Impossible to Forget(62)

Romany raised an eyebrow and shook her head. ‘I’m not six years old,’ she said. ‘Have a great time. Say hello to Auntie Maggie from me. And what’s his name, Leon.’

‘Will do.’ Angie gave her another quick kiss and a squeeze of her shoulder and then left the flat.

It was cold outside and her dress wasn’t thick enough. She should have brought a coat, but if she went back now she would be even later, and Romany would laugh at her for being disorganised. So, she set off at speed up the street, hoping that the exercise would warm her up sufficiently to not miss the coat.

When she arrived at the restaurant, the other two were already there and a bottle of something red had been opened and poured into two large glasses.

‘Why am I always the last?’ Angie asked breathlessly, dropping herself down into the remaining chair and pushing her hair away from her sweaty brow.

‘Because you have a special talent for it,’ replied Leon with a fond smile. ‘Do you want some of this?’

He picked up the bottle and went to pour some into her glass, but she put her hand over the top.

‘Why can’t you remember that I don’t drink any more? It’s been fifteen years!’

Leon shook his head. ‘I suppose because I always picture you with a beer in your hand,’ he said, and she punched his arm. ‘What can I get you instead?’

‘Water is fine,’ she said, and he shook his head.

‘Don’t you miss having a drink?’ he asked.

Angie was about to give her stock answer about no longer needing alcohol, but then she remembered who she was talking to.

‘Hell, yes! Sometimes I dream about beer, lots of little bottles all marching towards me like the brooms in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. But then I remember that this was my decision and no one forced me into it. And I do feel so much better without all that shit in my system.’

‘Personally, I like a bit of shit.’ Leon laughed.

Angie turned her attention to Maggie then. So far she hadn’t spoken, but was sitting and quietly observing the other two.

‘So, Mags,’ Angie began before she had switched her gaze from one friend to the other. When she did, the rest of the sentence stuck in her throat. ‘God, Maggie. What’s the matter? You look bloody awful.’

Maggie tried to laugh. ‘Gee, thanks for that, Ange,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry. But honestly, what’s the matter? Are you ill? Is it serious?’

Thoughts of cancer or some other life-threatening illness raced through Angie’s mind. She had never seen anyone age so quickly in such a short period of time. She tried to think when she had last seen Maggie, and concluded that it must have been when she had dropped round just before Christmas with gifts for her and Romany. That was only four months ago. How could a person change so much so quickly?

Maggie seemed to retreat a little, wrapping her arms around herself as if in protection from the glare of Angie’s focus.

‘I’m not ill,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’

Angie didn’t believe it and she said so. ‘No, you’re not. Something’s definitely up. What is it? Come on. You can tell us.’

Maggie studied the table hard, as if the answer to the question was somehow caught in the striped grain of the wood. Her bony fingers pulled at the skin on her chin repetitively and with some force so that Angie wanted to put a hand out to stop her.

Then she took a deep breath.

‘I lost my job,’ she said.

She pulled her gaze up to meet their eyes. Then she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, as if she had decided to own this information. She reached for her glass and took a long drink.

Angie was stunned. Part of her thought that she couldn’t have heard properly, although she knew that she had.

It was Leon who gathered himself first.

‘But you’re a partner,’ he said. ‘The boss. They can’t do that, surely?’

‘They can,’ replied Maggie. ‘And they have.’

‘But why?’ asked Angie.

Maggie must surely have been the best lawyer in the place. Angie knew nothing about the law, but she had never once had any doubt that Maggie would be brilliant at what she did. She was just that kind of person. Her skills brushed off her all the time, like lily pollen. They were just there, obvious.

Maggie shrugged. ‘My face didn’t fit any more,’ she said. ‘Too old, too traditional, too change-averse. Too risk-averse, more like it,’ she added with a sardonic raise of an eyebrow. ‘Anyway, whatever it was, I’m out. I am unemployed. And now, no doubt, unemployable on top.’

Angie wished that she had a beer. Taking a sip of water really didn’t cut it when there had been a shock. And this was a shock. It had never once occurred to her that a disaster of any type, let alone one of this magnitude, would ever befall Maggie. Her life was bolted together with titanium: blast-proof, bomb-proof, everything-proof. It always had been, and Angie had assumed that it always would be.

‘God, Maggie, that’s crap,’ said Leon. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Three weeks ago,’ replied Maggie. ‘Technically I’m still on notice, but they made it clear that they didn’t need any help picking up my files. So they’ve put me on garden leave until the end of June. And then that’s it. On the scrapheap just before my fiftieth birthday. Could it get any shittier?’