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While Jonathan is preparing his reply, I step in. “He needs toset an example. It’s no good telling the staff to be on time if he doesn’t get in punctual himself.”
My intent is to help. I don’t.
Uncle Johnny turns to his nephew with an at least appropriately avuncular look on his face. “No, no, no.” He puts his hands on Jonathan’s shoulders and spins him around to face him. Since Jonathan’s still making toast, this means he comes very close to sticking his uncle with a butter knife. “What you want to do my lad, is sayI’m in charge and you’re not, you’ll do as I say not as I do.”
With a patience that, given who we’re dealing with here, borders on grace, Jonathan nods. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Sorry”—Barbara Jane has come over now, mostly to nick the jam—“how many businesses have you run, uncle?”
“A few.”
“I saidrun, notrun into the ground.”
Taking advantage of the distraction, Jonathan swipes his toast and makes for the door, but Wendy stops him as he’s getting his coat.
“Here,” she calls after him, “when’re you going to get Nana Pauline?”
“Tomorrow.” And then he stops and looks at me. It’s sort of the first time he has since last night—it’s hard to have a what-does-what-happened-mean-and-what-happens-next moment when a man in a checkered shirt is asking you how much black pudding you want—and now there’s a sort of quiet between us. A quiet that’s still filled by people going on about eggs, bacon, and how Barbara Jane needs to get some baked beans down her neck, but a quiet even so. “I—Sam, I should have said, I’m going to need to go to Sheffield to pick up my grandmother and, well…”
“And he wants to know,” says Les, “if you’d rather spend five hours in a car with him, or a day in the house with us.”
Barbara Jane has gone back to her seat at the kitchen table.“Oh well done, Dad. You realise that means whichever he picks he’ll feel like he’s insulted someone.”
“Oh no, we won’t be insulted,” cries Wendy. “We won’t be insulted, will we, Les? Whichever he picks is fine with us.”
“Assuming,” adds Barbara Jane, “that Jonathan trusts us to stay in his house unsupervised. Well”—she shoots Uncle Johnny a sharp look—“I sayus.”
“I resent that,” Uncle Johnny replies.
“And you won’t be unsupervised,” adds Agnieszka. “Don’t worry, Mr Forest, I’ll keep an eye on them. Although I may have to ask for acting up pay.”
Jonathan has his coat fully on now. “Don’t push it. I’m not totally convinced you aren’t on their side anyway.”
“Listen to him,” Wendy says to no-one in particular, “talking about sides where his own family is involved.”
“He’s a bad son, Mrs Forest,” Agnieszka agrees.
“Ialso,” Jonathan turns to me in a desperate effort to change the subject, “thought you might—it might help us to see if your memory has got any better. I was going to take the opportunity to check in on the Sheffield branch while I was there anyway and we could see if you recognise any of your co-workers.”
Fuck. If I really had amnesia, that would be a fantastic idea. Such a fantastic idea that saying no sounds sus as fuck. Plus I’m not sure Iwantto say no. Even with the risk of getting rumbled, just having some time away with Jonathan to—though that’s where it all falls apart. Time towhat? To sayyou know that thing we very specifically said was a onetime deal, well how about we admit that was bollocks?
Fuck.
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I’ll come with yez. It might help.”
“Andyou’ll get to meet Pauline,” adds Wendy. “She’s a right love is Pauline. And she’ll be very pleased to meetyou.”
I’ve given up protesting that me and Jonathan aren’t dating. For a start it’s increasingly feeling like a lie. Which is ironic really, because it’s one of the few things I’ve told them that’s actually true.
Johnny does another fry-up next morning, and this time Jonathan does hang around for the full eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, baked beans, black pudding, fried mushrooms, grilled tomatoes combination because unlike most days, he’s not headed into the Croydon branch to yell at his staff. Instead he’s going to come up to Sheffield with me, so as he can yell at my staff. Something he’s warned them he’s planning to do because while Jonathan Forest the Boss is exactly the kind of man to pull a surprise inspection from head office, Jonathan Forest the Concussed Person Taker Care Ofer is a bit more considerate. Which bodes well for Claire and them. But not so well for me and my increasing sense of being in over my head.
Barbara Jane is still on the toast, mind, and Wendy is insisting on running the hoover around the living room.
“Should I ask why?” Jonathan asks her over the noise as we’re finishing our fry-ups.
“Well, Agnieszka’s coming later, and I want to make sure the place looks nice for her.”
Jonathan shakes his head. “She’s a housekeeper, Mum. Making the place look nice is what she’s paid to do.”
