Authors: Lisa Jewell

A Friend of the Family (41 page)

BOOK: A Friend of the Family

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‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re right. I’ll stop for a while.’

Ned smiled to himself. Gerry unlocked the front door and then suddenly turned around and whipped Bernie off her feet, picking her up and attempting to carry her over the threshold.

‘Get off me!’ Bernie protested, hitting him with her handbag. ‘Put me down, you stupid bastard. What on earth do you think you’re doing.’

‘Oh shut up,
Granny
,’ said Gerry, giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

‘Granny,’ said Bernie, testing out the word and smiling as Gerry deposited her in the hallway. ‘Oh my God – I’m going to be a granny!’

Goldie shuffled into the hallway to greet his absentee family, his expression telling them that he couldn’t quite believe that they’d all gone out for the night and had fun without him.

Mum and Ness went into the kitchen to make coffee and Ned looked round the house. Something felt wrong,
but he wasn’t quite sure what. There was something strange about the atmosphere. Something missing. He wandered through the living room and the dining room and then he went upstairs, already knowing what it was but not quite able to believe it.

The door to Gervase’s bedroom was closed. Ned knocked on it. No answer. He knocked again. ‘Gervase. Are you there?’ Still no answer. He slowly pushed open the door and was confronted by an empty room. And not just empty of Gervase, but empty of Gervase’s things. His guitar. His record player. His record collection. His leather jacket. His wardrobe was empty. His shoes were no longer lined up under his full-length mirror. The confederate flag was gone from his window and the picture of Elvis was missing from the wall. His bed had been stripped down to the mattress and the sink in the corner was devoid of his toothbrush and toothpaste.

Gervase was gone.

His friend Gervase.

Gone.

Ned’s chin dropped on to his chest. How could he do this? How could he just up sticks and leave them? He was part of the family. He was one of them. He
belonged
here.

He shambled towards his bedroom and opened the door. There was something on his bed. A Robert Gordon album, a proper vinyl album. On top of it was an envelope. Ned sat down heavily on his bed and opened the envelope.

Inside was a card with a picture of Elvis on the front. He opened it up and read:

Ned – nothing personal, mate, but it’s time to move on. It’s been a true honour hanging out with the Londons these last few months, but I go with the wind, really, and I can feel it changing direction, taking me somewhere new. I’ve written to your mum and dad separately but this one’s for you and your brothers. Your mum’s done her best with you and I don’t think I’ve ever met a mum like her, with so much love in her heart. But in trying to love you all to death she did you some disservices – she never taught you about responsibility or how to put other people ahead of yourselves. People are like cakes, Ned – you’ve got to slice them up and share them round otherwise you’ll eat the lot and puke up. Well, not so much you, Ned; you’ve a kinder heart than your brothers, but you can still be a bit of a flake. I think you boys have all learnt a lot about sharing yourselves these past few weeks – just keep it up, yeah? The more you share, the better you like yourself.

I don’t know if we’ll meet again – I hope so. You live in London long enough you tend to bump into everyone you know at least once, don’t you? So keep your eyes peeled, Ned – you never know!

Live long, live well, love much and keep it real.

Your friend,

Gervase McGregor

E-pilogue

From:	Anthony London [SMTP: [email protected]]
Sent:	Tue, 4 Dec 2001 23:14
To:	Sean London [SMTP: [email protected]]
Subject:	My niece

Well you two! You did it! And a girl – about time there was one of those in the family! Thanks for the picture – am I allowed to say that she looks like Granddad Seamus when he’s pissed? But then
all
babies look like Granddad Seamus to me! Seriously, though – I’m sure she’ll be a stunner when she’s older, like her mum. How is Millie? She wrote to me last week and said she felt like she was going to give birth to a walrus. Nine pounds two ounces – that’s fucking big, isn’t it? Hope my niece doesn’t end up with my physique, poor little thing. Though you’d probably not recognize me now – all this sunshine and healthy eating – I’ve lost loads of weight. Back to a 36”-waist trouser now!

I’m writing to you from a café in downtown San Francisco. It’s nearly midnight and it’s still warm outside. It’s fantastic here. I never thought I’d feel as passionate about another city as I do about London, but I tell you – this place, it’s got everything. You two should bring little Eva over as soon as you can travel. There’s a spare room in my house and I’m a five-minute walk from the
beach. I’m going to book my flight home when I’ve finished writing to you. I should be back next Wednesday – just a flying visit, though, I’m afraid. Yeah, you’ve guessed it, there’s business issues. I met up with a guy last week, an illustrator… of course we got talking and we’re thinking of setting something up – a card business. Well, stick with what you know! I just can’t help it; I’m crap at sitting around. I’ve had my holiday now – it’s time to get back to the graft.

Ned’s doing really well at London Cards. I keep getting e-mails from my (ex) staff singing his praises. I just hope he’s looking after my flat and hasn’t turned it into a carbon copy of Mum and Dad’s place! And what about him and Ness?! What a turn up for the fucking books! He was really nervous about telling me, as if I was going to get all proprietorial about it and jealous! I could not be happier! I knew they were getting really friendly and spending a lot of time together but I never thought it would turn into anything else. I’m really, really glad for them both – they’re both really nice people and they both deserve it.

Mum says the publishers loved the second book and have given you a new contract – that’s fantastic. When’s it coming out? I’ll have to come back for the launch. And send me an advance copy, you fucker! I’ve got a bit more time these days for sitting around and reading!

Anyway. I’m so happy for you, Sean. So happy about the book and about you and Millie (when are you going to make an honest woman of her?!) and now little Eva too. It’s so ironic that you’ve ended up exactly where I thought I’d be at your age and here I am sitting in an Internet café in San Francisco wearing shorts and flip-flops and behaving like an overgrown student. Life is strange. Good, but very strange.

Love to you all, Sean – to you and Millie and the baby. And congratulations! I can’t wait to meet her next week!

Your big brother

Uncle Tony (!)

From:	Ned London [SMTP: [email protected] ]
Sent:	Tue, 4 Dec 2001 18:15
To:	Tony London [SMTP: [email protected] ]
Subject:	Little Eva!

Fuck – can you believe it?! A girl! It’s so weird! I went to see her last night for the first time – she was exactly twenty-four hours old! She’s a big girl, I tell you. Looks like she’s at least a week old! And she looks just like Millie (thank God). You should see Sean – it’s incredible – I can’t believe he’s the same bloke. He just sat there and stared and stared at this kid like it was some kind of miracle. I walked into Millie’s flat (God, Tone, you should see her flat – it’s amazing) and the three of them were all sitting on the sofa, log fire going in the fireplace, cats everywhere, like some kind of perfect family. Almost felt a bit broody for a minute – just for a minute, mind! Mum went gaga and even Dad got a bit misty-eyed. You’d think this kid was the new messiah or something, the way everyone was behaving!

Life’s good for me right now – things with Ness are just getting better and better and we’ve actually started talking about getting a place – together – fuck! What a year! Don’t tell Mum, though – not until we’ve decided for sure. Mum and Dad are great. The house still feels a bit weird, though, since Gervase went. I still go in to his room every now and then, you know, just to remember him. And of course, it’s really weird without
Goldie. Poor old bugger. But he’s gone to a better place. And just you wait until you see this new puppy. He’s quite big now and he’s a total terror. He’s chewed half the furniture to pieces and all of Mum’s shoes. But he’s such a laugh and it’s nice for Mum and Dad to have something else to worry about now that I’m not living there any more.

Can’t wait to see you next week. I’ve got so much to tell you – mainly work stuff – but it’s just going to be so great having you back for a few days. I’ve really missed you, Tone. But I think you did the right thing going. I can already tell from your e-mails how much happier you are – maybe you can understand now why I left when I did. Sometimes the time’s just right for a change. You have to go with your gut feelings, don’t you? And there’s no point questioning why some things don’t work out – it’s all part of the journey and it’s where you end up that matters, not how you get there. You sound like you’re in a good place, and I certainly am – the best place ever.

Ta-ta for now Uncle Tony – see you next week. And can you bring a bit of that California sunshine with you?!

Love,

Your kid brother

Ned London

Fine Art Buyer

London Cards Ltd

Table of Contents

A Friend of the Family