‘Eddie Markham was my best friend,’ Jack said, and the sound of his voice, low and deep, on the edge of breaking, made Abby’s breath catch.
Raffle, her husky, lifted his head briefly from his front paws, and then went back to snoozing at their feet.
‘We met at school,’ Jack continued, ‘and were pretty much inseparable. My background was more privileged than his, and that didn’t matter to me, but as we grew older, it was clear that it did to him. I tried my hardest not to ever make a point of it, and I thought we had enough in common that Eddie could see past it, but whenever we got in trouble he’d make quips about my dad bailing me out, how I was untouchable. In fact, Dad came down hard on me without fail, adamant that I had to learn from my mistakes.’
He glanced at Abby then away again, as if it was easier to pretend he was telling someone else. ‘As we got close to the end of school, Eddie started to behave outlandishly, splashing money that I didn’t think he had to go on expensive holidays, buying designer clothes, burning hundreds of pounds on nights out. And then we went to Oxford together, and things got worse.’
He released Abby’s hand and took Shalimar from the coffee table, squeezing the tatty toy between his fingers.
‘Worse?’ she prompted softly.
‘He started taking drugs, disregarding everything except having a good time: wild nights out, turning up drunk or wasted to tutorials, insistent that I should join him, that this was the best time of our lives.’
‘And this was what the papers were referring to?’ Abby’s throat felt as if it was sealed shut.
He nodded. ‘I was young, living away from home for the first time, and I suppose I was weak. But it was a few joints, too much alcohol and partying. I never took the harder drugs, never went to the extremes Eddie did, but I’m not proud of the way I behaved. And of course, it began affecting my studies. I told myself I was going along with him to protect him, to stop him self-destructing, that I was still fully in control.’
‘But you weren’t?’
Jack ran a hand over his jaw, the gesture now so familiar to Abby. ‘Not at all. And Eddie laid it at my door, said that I could have anything I wanted so why shouldn’t he be the same. It was warped, but I felt guilty. I wondered if, somehow, I had pushed him into it. I couldn’t see straight to a way out for him, but when my grades started to suffer, and with Eddie getting more and more reckless, I realized that I had to change. I didn’t enjoy being constantly high or hungover, and I didn’t want to be part of Eddie’s blinkered destructiveness. I told him that I wasn’t doing it anymore, hoping it would make him see sense too.’
‘What did he say?’
‘At first, he left me behind, and a part of me was relieved. But then he got his act together, dragging up his grades and knocking on my door, wanting to reconcile. That became the pattern; he’d work hard for a while, and then get lured back into the drugs and start going downhill again.’
‘And you stayed friends with him all this time?’ Abby asked.
‘I realized, after that first time, that I couldn’t do anything else,’ Jack said. ‘I’d grown up with him. How could I live with myself if I left him to fall apart? I continued to go out with him – though it was more as a chaperone. I stayed away from the drugs, stood up for him when his dedication to the course was questioned. And then I had a wake-up call.’ He leaned forward and rubbed furiously at his cheeks.
Abby took hold of his wrists and gently pulled his hands away. ‘What happened?’
‘Eddie spiked my drink with Ecstasy on a night out. He was already wired, I’d refused, as always, and so he took the decision out of my hands.’
‘Oh my God.’ Abby’s stomach twisted. She tried to imagine the panic, the helplessness of something like that happening to her. For Jack, who was always – almost always – so in control, it must have been horrifying.
‘I’d started seeing a girl, Hannah, and when I got back to our flat I was a mess. I’d worked out what he’d done, but I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know how much he’d put in my drink, and Hannah ended up calling an ambulance. She was upset and scared, my parents were called and the college was notified. I was lucky not to lose my place.
‘After I’d stopped taking part in Eddie’s stupid games and tried to support him, he’d compromised my relationships, my future. I thought, if he can go that far, then what else can he do? I broke off all contact with him and threw myself into my studies. And, over time, I heard he’d improved. He got cleaned up, started studying again, managed to scrape through with a degree of his own.
‘A couple of years after I’d graduated, when I’d been writing for a while trying to get a novel finished, our old professor, Ernest Chisolm, contacted me. He said Eddie was writing a book and was desperate to rebuild bridges. I should have said no – to this day I wish I had – but I was curious. I also thought that what he’d done to me had been the catalyst for his own recovery and I felt, somehow, I owed it to him to hear him out.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Abby said, sliding her finger round the rim of her coffee cup.
‘Is it? I knew that getting back in touch with him was a bad idea, that however much he’d moved on, that self-destructive nature wasn’t too far from the surface. But I saw him, and there was a semblance of the old Eddie there. He drew me back in – he’s charming, clever, and very good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes. We weren’t as tightly bound as we’d been before, but our friendship was shakily resurrected. And then, just as we were both getting our careers off the ground, he was accused of plagiarism by Ernest Chisolm. He’d ripped off the work of our tutor, who had stayed in touch with him, helped him, long after graduation.’
Abby inhaled. ‘Seriously? Your tutor’s work?’
Jack nodded. ‘Eddie asked me to bail him out. He said he was innocent, that Ernest was making it up, bitter that Eddie’s book was being published when his wasn’t. He said Ernest was lying but that he could placate him, make it go away. However, there was also a journalist who had uncovered it, and it was someone I knew. I wanted time to compare their work, to see for myself and make a decision, but Eddie told me the story was going to print, that there was no time.
‘He was so close to the edge, high on drink and drugs again, worse than I’d ever seen him, and I knew this could tip him over. I agreed to pay off the journalist while he settled whatever he needed to with Ernest, as long as he never mentioned my involvement to anyone, got his life back on track and stayed away from me.’
He looked at Abby, laughing when she was unable to hide her confusion.
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘I should never have agreed to it. But he was drowning, Abby. And I, all high and mighty with my book deal and good early reviews, thought I could pull him out of the depths. It was about helping an old friend but, looking back, I realize it was about my own arrogance, too. I wanted to show him that I was tired of all his shit, that I was stronger than he presumed, and I could get this journalist to listen to me. Look how that’s turned out.’
‘Jack.’ Abby scooted forwards and took his hands. His T-shirt was faded red, the neckline pulled slightly out of shape. She thought of him putting it hastily on as Eddie had knocked on the door of Peacock Cottage that morning, imagining it would be her, then the shock at seeing him standing there.
‘He
