Was it arrogance, Angie wondered, that she thought she knew better than Leon? Possibly; probably, in fact, but she was obviously right.
It wasn’t too late, though. Now that he was free from the clutches of that controlling wife of his, would he be brave enough to do something with his talent? But even as Angie was thinking that, she knew it would never happen. Leon just didn’t have it in him to push himself beyond where he had always been. Not without help, anyway.
She tiptoed through the flat, dropping her bag on the floor and kicking her shoes off so that one landed by the coffee table and the other half-under the sofa. There was a light coming from under Romany’s bedroom door, so she pushed the handle down gently and peeped inside. Romany was asleep, Lord of the Flies open across her face where it had fallen. Angie padded across the room and lifted the book, folding the corner of the page to mark the place. Then she bent down to kiss her daughter on the head and to turn off her bedside light. As she did so, Romany stirred and opened her eyes.
‘Nice night?’ she asked.
Angie smiled and nodded.
‘I must have fallen asleep,’ Romany said, reaching a hand out from under the duvet to retrieve the book from her mother. And then, ‘Mum!! Did you fold the corner?!’
‘I didn’t want you to lose your place,’ replied Angie indignantly. She had been pleased that she’d thought not to just shut the book.
‘Ever heard of a bookmark?’ Romany said, but she was too sleepy to be actually cross and she let her eyes droop and then close again.
‘Night, night, baby,’ said Angie, and then retreated out of the room.
She was too awake to go to bed, so she made herself a cup of chamomile tea to try and help her nod off. Sitting on the sofa, curled into a ball with her fingers wrapped tightly around the mug, it occurred to her again that for the first time in thirty years, she was the only one whose life was flowing along nicely. She had her thriving business and her flat, which was at least half-paid for. And she had Romany, the most precious thing in the world. For all her lack of a plan, she had made something good out of her life. It might have been more down to luck than judgement, but all was spectacularly well in her world.
Of course, she took no pleasure in the difficulties that the others were facing. That wasn’t how things worked. Life wasn’t like a see-saw where you could only be at the top if someone else was at the bottom. But at the same time, it did feel fair that she should have a bit of good fortune. It was her turn. If anyone understood the universe’s energy, it was her. Right now, it was her sun that was in the ascendant and for that she was very grateful.
Her mind cast back to that day in their second year at York when Maggie had caught her crying in her room. That day had been the start of their friendship. Until then they were just two people who had ended up living together through a series of random circumstances. But after she had accidentally revealed her vulnerability, a kind of reluctant trust had been garnered between the two of them that had been growing, little by little, ever since. At twenty, Angie had thought that she didn’t need anyone, that she was strong enough to get through life on her own. But gradually she had come to realise that sometimes you really do need someone rooting for you. Over the years, that person had become Maggie.
And now, here they were with the roles well and truly reversed, Angie with her life on track and Maggie adrift and without a clue what to do about it.
Angie had no magic bullets for her friend. She didn’t even know what her options might be. But she knew that she was going to be there when Maggie needed her.
34
A month after the reunion and Angie was still no wiser about Maggie’s situation. She seemed to have gone to ground. Angie’s calls went to voicemail and her texts were replied with cheerful but very brief responses from which no information could be readily discerned. Angie didn’t want to pry, but at the same time she didn’t want to leave Maggie stewing in her own juices. Brooding was no good for anyone. She had even offered her a number of therapeutic treatments, either from her or other members of her team, in case Maggie would rather not be treated by a friend, but they had all been politely but firmly declined.
She had to do something, though. Maggie was strong, but no woman was an island. Everyone needed some help sometimes, even Maggie; maybe especially Maggie. When things went up in smoke around Angie, she already had a whole armoury of defences built up over a lifetime of difficulties to help herself get back on her feet. This was, as far as Angie knew at least, the first time Maggie had ever encountered anything going other than entirely according to plan. She must surely need all the help she could get. And Angie was determined to be the one to provide it.