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‘You’re all here,’ I say, hugging all of them in turn. ‘Did you have a good Christmas, girls?’
‘I GOT A SCOOTER!’ cries Bella.
‘And I got my shark,’ announces Paige.
‘A real one? Does it live in the bathtub?’ I ask and they both explode into giggles.
‘Hello, lovely. Yes, we are here and I’m bloody exhausted,’Gemma tells me. ‘Happy New Year! How long is it acceptable to keep saying that?’
‘I believe it’s today. Twelfth night, possibly…’ I say, confused as they all make their way into my flat, the girls nosing around and diving on to my sofa. ‘Can I get you anything? Drinks? I think I’ve got some squash hiding away somewhere.’
Gemma goes over to the television and turns the channel to some kids’ programme to settle them. ‘Feet off Aunty Maggie’s sofa, just give us a moment, yeah?’
The girls both nod and she comes over to sit at my tiny kitchen table, Harry still fast asleep despite his sisters’ shrieking. It’s good that he’s learnt how to do that much in his short time on this planet. ‘Look at you in Christmas goblin mode,’ she laughs, pointing at me. I don’t argue. I haven’t really made much of an effort since coming home on Friday.
‘Did my parents send you?’ I ask her, realising why she might be here.
‘Your parents? No. Did they have a good cruise though?’
‘They did. Actually, here,’ I say opening a tin of Norwegian Christmas cookies on my kitchen table.
She takes one as my brow still remains furrowed as I try to understand why she’s dragged three very little children across West London to come see me. That would have taken time, effort, and she could have done this with a phone call.
She rolls the sleeves up of her hoodie. ‘Right. I won’t beat around the Shepherd’s Bush here because I have kids and this one’s going to need milk in a bit, but I had a message yesterday on social media,’ she tells me.
‘You’ve lost me,’ I say.
Gemma shakes her head at me, grinning and kissing the top of her son’s head. ‘It was one of your mates from work.’
‘Leo?’ I ask, hope surging through my veins at the mere mention of his name.
‘No.’ I try and pretend that doesn’t completely take the wind out of my sails.
‘It was Frank with the bad hair. Getting in touch to ask if I could help him with something.’
‘Something?’
‘Is that the bloke you went to the wedding with?’ she asks me.
‘It is, what did he tell you?’ I ask curiously.
Gemma has a wry smile across her face as she drip-feeds me these details.
‘You quit your job,’ she tells me, like I didn’t know that already.
‘Not quite.’
‘But the way he explains it, you did it to save their jobs,’ she adds, proudly.
‘In a nutshell, yeah,’ I say, trying to deflect that pride she feels for me. It will always feel right but it does currently leave me feeling a little lost. I tap my fingers on my kitchen table unable to look up.
‘That is why, Maggie, we are friends and will always be friends,’ she tells me, putting a hand in mine. ‘These cookies are bloody lovely. Make sure I don’t eat the lot. Breastfeeding has me starving at the minute. The kid drains me.’
‘So you’re telling me Frank messaged you to tell you that…?’ I say, drawing the conclusion out of this story.
‘We had a conversation. He was worried about you but I think they’re all very grateful for that sacrifice you made, so they asked me to come and speak to you.’
‘About what?’ I ask her, intrigued by the word ‘all’ and how that might involve Leo in some way.
