Maame(102)

I stand there silent but hear James say, “What’s wrong, Mum?”

I turn and notice she looks blindsided by the news.

James, however, is smiling, resting his hand on her shoulder. “You’re not upset about not getting the money, are you?” he says, and his gold tooth glints. “After all, you shouldn’t be so attached to this Earth’s material things. Matthew six, verse nineteen.”





Chapter Forty-two


“Have you decided what you’re going to spend the money on?” Nia asks.

I’m speed-walking through Shoreditch trying not to bump into anyone as I speak through my earphones and follow Google Maps at the same time.

“I thought maybe I could donate some of the money to a Parkinson’s disease charity, but there are so many. I need to keep researching.”

“That’s a really nice idea, Mads,” she says. “How’s James taking the news? Must be a bit of a blow.”

“I think he was upset, but he knows he wasn’t around when I was dealing with a lot.”

“Good, as he should,” Nia replies. “Are we still on for viewing the flats on Saturday? We’ve got two in Brixton and one in Crouch End, which is kind of far but looks really nice.”

I smile, remembering Avi once suggested I move to Crouch End. “It’s not far,” I tell Nia. “Oh, I can see the burger place and Sam is sitting at the window. He’s seen me; I have to go. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“See you on Saturday.”



* * *



“Okay,” I say, swallowing a mouthful. “This is the best burger I’ve ever had.”

“I told you.”

“Could you look a little less smug?”

Sam, in jeans and a knitted gray jumper, scratches where his beard is growing and says, “This is me trying, so no?”

“Regardless, thank you for bringing me here. I had no idea this place existed.”

This burger bar tucks itself into a corner in Shoreditch. It’s decorated like a cabin, with framed photos on the wall and a bar at the front. The lights are low and our window looks out onto the street and a corner section of Old Spitalfields Market.

“My pleasure,” he says. “Are OTP happy to have me?”

“Extremely. They didn’t think they’d get you, we know we didn’t offer the most money.”

“You still offered a lot, and I liked Thea’s art direction the most.”

“Penny thinks your decision had something to do with me.”

“That would be highly unethical—let’s leave it at that,” he says, smiling. “I am still a little surprised you messaged me.”

“Really?”

“You seemed concerned about my history with Jo.”

“I managed to talk to her about it.”

“I heard.”

He talks to his ex because they’re still friends. Is that a red flag?

He must see my expression because he clarifies. “I also spoke to her about us; it should have been a conversation I had with her anyway. She suspected more was going on between us because apparently you looked very guilty.”

“That is how I felt.”

“Why?” he asks.

“I don’t know. It’s another thing I’m working on.”

“Do you often feel guilty for things that aren’t actually your fault?”

My elbow slips from the table whilst he casually picks at his plate, as if to defuse how big a question that is.

“Why did you ask me that?”

“I just want to know how you’re doing,” he replies.

“Is it because of the whole ‘I’m sad’ thing in the garden? Look, I know that was weird. I’m really sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “I’m asking because when you said it, it came from somewhere deep and I felt it.”

“I was being dramatic.”

“Maybe not.”

I frown. “Sam, why do you care?”

“Because I didn’t once before. With someone I knew.”

“Right.” I put my burger down and push my plate away. “That’s why you asked me to dinner. Pity?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What? No.”

I don’t know what happens, but my brain switches off and then colored sparks fly. I have to blink and rub my eyes to get rid of them.

“If you must know, Sam, no, I’m not doing very well today,” I say. “Which is so frustrating because I thought I’d be better by now. I was supposed to have done the six stages of grief thing, I was supposed to be used to the guilt, and some days I am and I feel good and together, but other days I feel like I’m back at square one and I just want to know when I’m going to be fine again.” I have to grip the table to breathe out the air I didn’t take in. “So there, Sam. There you go.”

“Maddie.”

I don’t want him to look at me, so cover my face with my hands and try to calm my breathing. I started crying a while ago. I hate that people might be looking at me but the thought doesn’t stop the tears from spilling.

A thumb begins stroking the back of my hand before I hear his chair pull from the table. When I look up, Sam and our food are gone. I sit, trying to wipe my face as best as I can when he returns with paper bags.