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‘It’s alright, you can both go. I’ll stay with him,’ I inform them.
There’s no way I’m leaving Jago to drown in his own sick.
‘The bleddy old bag…’ Janice mutters to herself, biting her lip, shooting me an apologetic glance.
‘You mean my grandmother, don’t you? I saw her limousine earlier. I know she went to see him. She’s the cause of this, isn’t she? She was heard shouting at him. What did she say to him to upset him so much?’
‘He won’t say,’ Janice answers. ‘All I know is that Ralph from The Rolling Scones says she drove by the Bend or Bump. And when she left, he closed up shop and went for a walk. The rest, you know.’
‘Oh my God. What the hell could she have possibly said to hurt him so much? I know she doesn’t think much of him, but to lay into him like that?’
‘Emmie,’ Martin says. ‘There’s really no reason for you to get caught up in this.’
‘If you want to stay and take care of Jago, fine,’ Janice interrupts her brother, ‘thank you. But for your own good, just… stay out of everything else, OK?’
‘I’m getting sick and tired!’ I shout. ‘I need to know what all this cloak-and-dagger business is about. What’s going on between my grandmother and Jago Moon? How are they even connected?’
The two glance at each other.
‘He’ll have to tell you himself, if he wants to, Emmie,’ Janice says. ‘All you can do is be there for him if he needs you.’
My eyes swing to Martin, who nods.
‘It’s not for us to say anything, Emmie. We’re sorry…’
‘Fine.I’lltake care of him. Thank you for helping me.’Not.
‘I’ll call in later, OK?’ Janice promises.
I wipe my face in anger and nod.
‘Thank you, Janice.’
‘Hang in there,’ she says, squeezing my arm. ‘It’s worth it.’
Whatever that means.
When they’re gone, I rush into the bathroom and get some facecloths to wipe his face. Then I remove his shoes and belt and cover him with a soft blue throw. Should he wake in the night, I’ll give him a couple of aspirins and get him to drink some coffee, maybe even eat something.
Poor Max. He hasn’t left Jago’s side for a moment. He must be exhausted. The sheer loyalty of this beautiful creature brings tears to my eyes. I freshen his water bowl and open a can of dog food from the pantry, sitting on the floor next to him as he polishes it off in one minute flat, his intelligent eyes scanning me. He knows I mean him no harm. He knows I’m here to help.
I go into the kitchen to make something to eat, but his pantry has few items besides sliced bread and Marmite. This man doesn’t eat. Instead, there’s a full-blown collection of dog food, plus booze of every kind and price. I stand back, my eyes travelling over all the bottles. It’s like a suicidal mission. Why, oh why, is he doing this to himself?
As I’m making some Marmite sandwiches, through the door I see him stir. I wipe my hands on a tea towel and bring in a strong cup of coffee and the sandwiches, which I set on the coffee table before him.
‘Hey…’ I whisper as he opens his eyes and turns to look at me in surprise.
‘What are you doing here?’ he rasps, scratching the stubble on his throat.
‘You’re OK,’ I say. ‘You’re home. Janice and Martin have been and say that you just need some sleep. And some food.’
He suppresses a moan.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he admonishes. ‘Your grootmother will have a fit.’
‘I don’t care about that,’ I assure him. ‘I just want to make sure you’re OK.’
‘Why?’
