Claudia Carroll 3 Book Bundle. Claudia Carroll
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it. ‘Always too good for the likes of us, always wanting better for yourself. With your fancy books by writers none of us ever heard of by Russian writers that aren’t even alive any more, sure what’s the point in that?’
Jake smiled to himself at this, knowing his mother would think that reading anything more challenging than OK! magazine was akin to reading a treatise on sewage management in the fourteenth century.
‘Sure I remember you as a teenager,’ his nana reminded him, through her whistling teeth that she then whipped out and stuck on the dinner table in full view, like she always did whenever they were at her. ‘You were always writing out fancy to-do lists for yourself: must learn to speak better, must try to dress better, must study harder. How you didn’t get the shit kicked out of you more often round here was a minor miracle,’ she cackled at him toothlessly, the breath whistling out of her.
‘I remember,’ he smiled his warm, slow smile at her. ‘I was reading The Great Gatsby and I wanted to be just like Jay.’ But his nana just looked blankly back at him, the reference utterly lost on her, then grinned gummily and told him she really believed he’d do well no matter what. ‘I wouldn’t worry a bit about anything love,’ she’d told him kindly. ‘Sure look at you, you’ve the same hands as me. Intelligent hands. You’ll do well for yourself, you’ll be OK. Just don’t forget us when you land some big fancy job in town for yourself. And no running off with any tarty little gold-diggers when you’re rich and successful either, do you hear me?’
She was gently teasing him and all his notions of getting on in the world, but deep down Jake knew that of all people in his family, Nana probably understood best.
Understood that he’d had enough of the life he’d been born into. That he wanted to kill it as fast as possible and start over. Quickly, before they got to him and dragged him back in, like they always seemed to, just when he’d stumbled on a chance of getting up and on and out. And the invisible noose they had around his neck was already beginning to tighten, he knew only too well. Already, his ma said a few of the old gang had phoned the house, faux-casually asking where he was staying since he got out. He could trust his ma not to give him away though. ‘In town, that’s as much as I know’ she’d told them firmly, and that seemed to suffice.
At least, for the moment.
In his coursework, he was reading about the Sword of Damocles and in his darker moments, that was exactly how he felt these days. Like he was enjoying a rare and spectacular piece of undeserved good fortune right now, but the sky was surely about to fall in on his head.
Like it usually did.
And it was just a matter of time.
Chapter Seven
One night back at the flat in Sandymount, Jake had been studying till very late and suddenly found himself unexpectedly starving. He was just beginning to fry up some noodles with chicken and green vegetables when there was a buzz at the intercom – Eloise, dropping off the latest draft of his re-done, re-worked, proof-read, ready-to-go CV. Come on up, he’d told her, door’s open. It was one of those miserable, filthy wet nights you sometimes get in the middle of springtime, when it feels more like November than May, so he’d lit a fire hours earlier, then stayed up late reading his course books by its flickering warmth.
In she came, dripping wet and looking even paler than he’d seen her in the longest time, which was really saying something. The girl always carried a kind of tense, jumpy energy around with her, but tonight her nerves were practically pinging off the walls. Something was seriously up, he knew by the look of her. No one this side of a correctional facility went around looking that fraught and strung out, and he should know.
‘You OK?’ he asked quietly.
‘Fine,’ she said tersely.
‘You sure?’ he asked gently.
‘Cosy,’ she nodded brusquely, avoiding his question, arms folded and face taut as she took in her surroundings in one of her lightning-quick, up-and-down appraising looks.
‘Thanks,’ he nodded, towering like a colossus over her, even in bare feet, making the room seem smaller just because he was in it. ‘Here, sit down at the fire, dry yourself off a bit.’
‘It’s okay thanks, I’m not staying, I need to go …’ she began edgily, but then seemed to waver a bit as the tantalising smell of garlic and onions hit her.
‘Are you cooking? In the kitchen?’
If she’d asked him if he was in the kitchen shaving his head, she couldn’t have sounded any more stunned.
‘Ehhh … It’s actually what people do in kitchens, wouldn’t be all that uncommon,’ he grinned down at her. ‘You hungry, by any chance? Plenty of grub for both of us.’
‘No,’ she wavered, but unconvincingly. ‘That is, yeah, but I have to get home, I’ve still got a pile of emails I need to answer and I’ve so much else to do tonight, just to stay on schedule …’
‘Oh for feck’s sake Eloise, just for once, do as I’m telling you. Don’t leave just yet. Sit down, stay and have something to eat,’ he told her, in a don’t-mess-with-me tone.
So looking like all the fight had finally drained out of her, she slumped exhaustedly into the armchair by the roaring fire.
‘Atta girl,’ said Jake. ‘Do you good to let someone else mind you for a change. You look wrecked.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ she said wryly, rolling her eyes up to heaven. ‘After the day I’ve had, my spine feels like a ladder of lead pipes.’
‘Just sit back and relax. Grub’s on its way.’
He went back to the stir-fry in the tiny galley kitchen, while Eloise looked all around her, taking everything in, and as usual, missing absolutely nothing.
‘You’ve been doing some work on the place,’ she commented, nodding towards a load of pictures left strewn around the floor by the last tenant, now neatly framed and dotted tastefully around the walls.
‘Ahh yeah, I’ve just been fixing a few things round here up a bit,’ he shrugged from where he stood at the cooker, making modest light of the fact that since he’d moved in, he’d done everything he could to repair anything broken around the flat, jazz it up a bit and generally leave it in turnkey condition for Eloise’s sister. Already he’d revarnished the wooden floor, fixed the leak in the sink and shower, repaired the kitchen cupboard door that was hanging off its hinges; the works. Least he could do, he felt.
‘Looks far better than it ever did,’ she said approvingly, stretching her legs out in front of the fire and finally starting to relax a bit. ‘Have to hand it to you Jake, I never would have had you down as a metrosexual that would be good at knocking things into shape around the house.’
He laughed, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of wine and pouring her out a glass.
‘You mean, by the size of me, you’d swear I was the type better suited to smashing up things, rather than putting them back together again?’ he teased lightly.
‘No, I didn’t mean that. The place is just so spotless, that’s all. Usually in an apartment with a single guy living in it, you’d nearly expect to see a kitchen sink fit for mice to throw a party in …’
‘Don’t tell me, with the stench of a three-day-old microwaved dinner for one from Tesco hanging in the air …’ He grinned.
‘Gakky underpants strewn across the back of the sofa …’
‘… All while an FA Premiership match blares away on TV. Yeah, I’ve lived in plenty of places that fit that description in my time alright. Here, have a glass of wine.’
‘Can’t. Driving.’
‘You can have a mouthful, can’t you? Go