‘We tried calling, love, but your phone was switched off.’
‘Oh.’ I fished out my mobile. I’d turned it off last night, before Jasper and I had watched the film, and had forgotten to turn it back on again. ‘Sorry. Have you been there long?’
‘Nearly an hour! We went to visit Aunty Jean and we were just passing on the way back. Where’ve you been?’
‘Oh … just had a bit of … needed to go to the cashpoint … Look, do you want to come in for a cup of tea before we drown? Hi, Dad.’
My father emerged from the other side, shielding himself from the rain with the Sunday Telegraph.
As we headed for the steps, I wondered why Jasper hadn’t gone yet.
His door opened.
Oh, my God, don’t do this to me …
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
Chapter Six
Even in the rain his smile was enough to stop traffic. Lucky all the traffic had stopped already.
Mum and Dad turned round on the steps and looked down at him, then at each other, then at me.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘This is my friend Jasper. He gave me a lift to the –’
‘Home,’ interrupted Jasper, speaking clearly and firmly. ‘I gave Sarah a lift home.’
‘Let’s get inside and get the kettle on,’ I said. Family drama was bad enough, but family drama in the lashing rain – no, thanks.
In my first-floor studio flat, wet coats were taken off and wet heads shaken while I scooted over to the little kitchen corner and put on the kettle. Hopefully I still had enough left on my electricity key to put the heating on for a bit. The room was arctic after a night spent out of it. My parents would pick up on that.
‘Am I right in thinking that you’re Sarah’s parents?’ Jasper’s voice.
I didn’t want to look at them, and concentrated fiercely on getting the teabags into the pot, opening the wonky fridge door without making it tip over, getting the milk out, sniffing it. Fine.
‘That’s right.’ Dad’s voice was guarded.
‘Have we met before?’ Mum sounded as if she was dredging her memory.
‘I don’t think so. Jasper Jay.’ I glanced around and saw him shaking hands with Dad, who was none the wiser, by the looks of things.
‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere … you look so familiar,’ Mum persisted.
‘Jasper used to be an actor,’ I said, over the gusty rattle of the kettle.
‘Oh!’ she cried, experiencing a revelation. ‘Of course. You were in Open Heart Surgery.’
‘That’s right. For my sins.’
They wandered over to my sofa and took places on its worn chintz.
‘Do you remember, Geoff?’ said Mum eagerly to Dad. ‘Years ago, mind you. It’s all different people now.’
‘I didn’t pay a lot of attention, I’m afraid,’ said Dad, a little brusquely. ‘You don’t act any more then?’
‘I direct,’ he said.
‘Brilliantly,’ I contributed, pouring the boiling water into the pot. ‘He’s won major international prizes.’