Impossible to Forget(32)

Her fluttery brain turned an unexpected cartwheel towards Leon. He once told her that he’d pick up his saxophone in moments of nervous tension and lose himself in his music. Angie had always envied him that escape. She wondered idly if he still did that or whether Becky had put paid to it.

She hadn’t seen him for ages. Their lives had headed off in opposite directions after he’d met Becky. He was married now. Married! She and Maggie had been invited to the wedding and they had gone as each other’s plus one. It had all felt very grown up and middle class to her and she couldn’t quite believe it was happening, or that her friend had chosen to marry Becky. Leon had seemed radiantly happy and so Angie had had to conclude that she was missing something about his bride. There had been precious few meetings since that first dinner party – Becky’s doing, she imagined – and so Angie hadn’t had a chance to review her initial opinion of her; but Becky clearly made Leon happy and that would have to be enough. In the Christmas card that had as usual arrived promptly at the beginning of December, written in the neat girlish script Angie had come to recognise, it said that they had had a baby – a boy. Leon had a son! This had been such a surprise that Angie had shouted out loud when she read the news. It made her sad, though, that Leon hadn’t thought to tell them that Becky was even pregnant. There had been a time when she and Maggie would have been top of the list, but days turn into weeks, months and finally years and you can lose the habit of keeping in touch.

She wasn’t surprised by Leon’s tumble into conventional life. If any of them was going to do the two-point-four children thing, then she supposed it was going to be Leon, although she had never quite given up on the hope that he would eventually drop it all for the smoky Blues clubs of New Orleans. Never say never.

But Leon and his sax were of no use to her now. She needed to find something to do to pass the time whilst she waited for Jax to arrive. Perhaps she could do some meditation. That might help calm her down. But just as she settled herself cross-legged on the sofa, there was a knock at the door. He was here, and faster than she had thought. He must have picked up the last lift easily.

She bounced up, heart drumming, and raced down the stairs to answer the front door, ready to hurl herself into Jax’s arms, but as the door swung open she saw that it wasn’t him but Tiger standing on the doorstep. Every fibre of her being sagged in disappointment.

‘Surprise!’ he beamed, but then his smile slipped as he took in her expression. ‘Well, that’s a great welcome, I must say,’ he added.

Angie managed a small smile. ‘Hi, Tiger,’ she said.

‘Well, you could look the tiniest bit pleased to see me,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’

Angie desperately wanted to say no. Jax would be here any time now and everything was ready for him. The very last thing she needed was Tiger playing gooseberry.

‘It’s not that convenient right now,’ she managed. ‘I mean, if I’d known you were coming . . .’

Tiger looked a little taken aback, but ploughed on regardless. ‘Oh, you know me,’ he said. ‘There’s never a plan. I just go where the wind blows me.’

Well, the wind could blow him right back to where he’d come from, Angie thought. ‘Yes, but I’ve got someone coming to stay. They’ll be arriving any minute now. In fact, I thought you were them.’

‘Even better,’ said Tiger as he pushed her gently to one side and began to climb the stairs. ‘The more the merrier. We can have a little party. I’ve got some great weed. Hid it in . . . Well, you don’t need to know where I hid it, but Customs didn’t find it.’

Angie sighed, took a long look down the street to see if Jax was anywhere on the horizon – he wasn’t – and then set off up the stairs after Tiger.

‘And there’s no need to worry about me. I don’t need much. I can kip on the sofa. I won’t get in your way and I promise not to be too dazzling for your friend.’

This would be the moment to tell Tiger that rather than the girlfriend he seemed to assume was coming to stay, Jax was very much all man and Tiger would not be welcome whether he was on the sofa or not, but somehow the words stayed locked in her throat. What would be the point? She knew from past experience that there would be no shifting Tiger, not tonight at any rate. And he was one of her oldest friends. She couldn’t just kick him out on the street, not when he had only just arrived.

Tiger dumped his rucksack on the floor in the middle of the room and flopped down on the sofa so that the length of him took up every inch. He was grubby and in serious need of a close encounter with plenty of hot water and soap, but other than that he looked well. According to a hastily scribbled postcard, he had turned thirty in a yurt somewhere in the Atlas Mountains, but to look at him Angie thought you would probably still place him in his mid-twenties. His body was tanned and athletic-looking and his face glowed with health. That must be what a life with no worries did for you.

‘Beer?’ he asked expectantly. ‘As in, any chance of a . . . ?’

Angie sighed and took a bottle from the fridge. She passed it to him, and he flicked off the top with his thumbnail and took an appreciative swig.

‘Ahhh. That’s better,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to that.’

Angie was tempted to comment that there were plenty of other places to buy beer between wherever he had come from and her flat, but Tiger was Tiger. He was just acting true to form and she had never objected to his behaviour before, so it hardly seemed fair to start now.