He nods like it’s obvious. ‘I told you, he knows Theo from medical school.’
I help myself to a glass of water and try to compose myself. ‘Why can’t he come for the wedding and leave again?’
‘He gave up his flat in Leeds because he’s moving abroad. He wasn’t supposed to be in the country at all, but he delayed his departure for Theo. He’d already left his job, so now he’s doing locum work at Ealing Hospital for a few weeks. He needed a room and I offered.’
The situation isn’t ideal, but as long as I stay away from Yan’s flat, I probably won’t see Mark again until the wedding, and it shouldn’t be hard to avoid him on the day itself.
I take a sip of water, already feeling calmer. ‘Where’s he moving to?’
‘Venezuela to help train surgeons. There’s a shortage because they keep getting kidnapped and murdered.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Still an adrenaline junkie, then.’
He puts down the spoon he’s holding and squeezes my arm.
‘That was his way of coping with all the shit he went through as a kid. He’s not that hot-headed eighteen-year-old any more.’
‘No, but I’m still the bitch that broke his dead brother’s heart.’ My voice catches.
‘He won’t still think that.’
Sudden tears overwhelm me, and Yan pulls me into a hug.
‘I’m sorry, Nell.’ He strokes my back as I try to calm the sea of emotions in my gut. There’s sadness, a little anger, but mostly it’s guilt. A tidal wave of the bloody stuff. I haven’t thought about Leo for years for exactly this reason.
I clear my throat. ‘Doesn’t Mark have anywhere else to stay? What about his mum?’
‘She’s in a care home.’
The news hits me in the solar plexus. ‘Poor Anthi.’
Anthi and Mum came from the same village in Cyprus, although they didn’t really know each other until they found themselves in London, living on the same street. She was like an auntie to us before everything changed.
‘She has rheumatoid arthritis. She needs constant care, and no one else can do it.’
He’s right, of course, Leo died, and Anthi’s Sicilian husband ran off years ago. Which was just as well because he sounded like a violent psycho.
‘So what’s he like now? Out all night and hungover till noon?’
‘He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon.’
This isn’t news to me, not really. I vaguely kept up with what he was up to, but it’s not something I’ve properly digested. That Mark Marino – an angry, rebellious, walking middle-finger – now saved lives for a living.
‘Doesn’t mean he doesn’t party or sleep around.’ He broke alotof hearts at school.
‘He’s not a delinquent tearaway any more, shagging teachers or whatever else the rumour mill churned out.’
‘Vandi swears she saw him doing Miss Martinez standing up in the sixth-form toilets.’
‘Your mate Vandi has an overactive imagination. He wasn’t all bad. He looked out for me when I needed him.’
I begrudgingly accept he’s right. When the school bully used to jump Yan for being gay, Mark would always pile in to defend him because his mum ran a dance studio and he took lessons, so somehow that madehim‘gay’, too.
Yan might have appreciated Mark’s readiness to use a bit of force, but Mum didn’t. ‘It’s his Sicilian side,’ she would mutter after hearing about another dust-up. Because of course, the genes fromourend of the Mediterranean couldn’t possibly be at fault. ‘Leo’s a sweet boy – he took after his mother,’ she’d say, ‘but Mark is too much like his father. Charming but unpredictable.’
‘He’s the perfect flatmate – he works all hours, hardly uses the kitchen or living room, and is super tidy. He should be chargingme.’
‘You just like the idea of him walking around in a barely-there towel.’
