‘So,’ Maggie continued, returning them to the matter in hand. ‘Let’s start with who you are . . .’

  By the end of the evening, they had produced a personal statement that read pretty well, and Romany was feeling much calmer about the whole process. Maggie’s guidance had been clear and logical, taking her through what she needed to say in a way that made it flow with purpose and ended up at exactly the right place with a nice uplifting finale. She had the word count completely spot on, too. Romany would never have been able to do that on her own, and she had to admit that if Mum had been helping, they would probably have ended up arguing about what should go in and what be left out. Maggie had been the perfect person for the job.

  ‘Thanks, Auntie Maggie,’ she said as she selected a champagne truffle from the almost-empty box. ‘That was really helpful.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘Glad to be of use,’ she said. ‘To be honest, it’s nice to do something that makes me think for a change. I miss using my brain.’

  ‘Do you not have to do that, then?’ asked Romany. She wasn’t sure that she entirely understood what Maggie meant. Surely, if you were clever like Maggie then you must use your brain all the time – you couldn’t really avoid it.

  Maggie wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m a bit overqualified for the job I’ve got at the moment,’ she said. ‘I mean, it’s a great business and the people are lovely. But I’m used to having a bit more responsibility.’

  ‘So why stay?’ Romany said.

  Maggie plucked a chocolate baton from the box but didn’t put it in her mouth. Instead, she tapped her lip with it thoughtfully.

  ‘Well,’ she began. ‘I don’t need to earn much money. There’s only me and I’m cheap to run. And the job is easy and safe. Plus, it’s great to go home in the evenings and just switch off . . .’ She started to tail off.

  ‘But it’s boring?’ suggested Romany.

  Maggie nodded.

  ‘And unfulfilling?’

  Maggie nodded again.

  ‘Maybe it’s time to try something that’s a bit more of a challenge?’

  ‘I think maybe it is,’ she said.

  ‘But you’re scared?’

  Nod.

  ‘Once bitten, twice shy?’

  Nod.

  Romany sat back in her chair and took a long, appraising look at Maggie. ‘What would you say to me if it was the other way round?’ she asked.

  Maggie took a deep breath. ‘I would tell you to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get right back on the horse,’ she said.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Romany said, letting her mouth twist into a wry smile. ‘Would you now?’

  She thought she saw Maggie blush.

  42

  Maggie was making dinner for her and Leon. It was going to be lasagne, made from scratch. There had been no time for meals with so many constituent parts when she had been working as a solicitor. Back then, she would have just made a quick pasta dish, a tomato sauce with a few veg chucked in for good measure, and eaten it without concentrating whilst she looked over emails or documents for the next day. Now, though, with the ragù already bubbling in the oven, she stirred the béchamel sauce carefully, making sure that it didn’t thicken too quickly or stick to the bottom of the pan. It was nice to have the time to cook properly, therapeutic even. Ironically, however, now that she finally had the time to stir a sauce without doing anything else at the same time, she no longer felt the need for calm. She almost missed the grabbed meals eaten without thought because her mind was occupied with more interesting things.

  Leon was sitting at the kitchen island, a glass of wine in front of him, flicking through the TV options for the evening on his iPad.

  ‘There’s a new four-parter starting on ITV that looks promising,’ he said. ‘Or we could just plough on with House of Cards.’

  Maggie sighed internally.

  ‘Shall we try the new thing?’ she said. She had lost interest in House of Cards after season two, but she didn’t want to disappoint Leon who still seemed to be enjoying it.

  ‘If you like,’ replied Leon. ‘How did it go with Romany last night?’

  ‘Oh, it was very productive. We got her personal statement whipped into shape. It was pretty much there in her head. She just needed some help getting her thoughts down on paper. She’s a smart girl.’

  Leon nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Did she mention that list I sent her? A hundred books to read before you’re twenty-one. I googled what to read and up it popped. There was some great stuff on it, although there were plenty I’d never heard of, too.’

  ‘No,’ replied Maggie. ‘It didn’t come up. And to be honest, Lee, I’m not sure that she needs things like that just at the moment, with her A levels just around the corner. She’s under enough pressure as it is without feeling like she’s supposed to read her way through a list of novels on top.’

  ‘Yes. You’re probably right,’ he said. He looked dejected, resting his chin on his hand. ‘Between you and me, I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to be doing with this cultural guardian role. It’s all right for you. It’s obvious that she’s going to need help with stuff like her UCAS form, but my brief is so vague. I wish Angie had given us a bit more direction.’

  Maggie stopped stirring the sauce and took it off the heat. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down next to Leon. ‘I think what she really wanted was to make sure that Romany had some significant adults in her life. What you’re responsible for isn’t really the point.’

  Leon looked surprised. ‘Really? Then I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Why don’t you try taking Romany out to something – the theatre or a film, something you’d both enjoy, and then you can have a chat whilst you’re out.’

  ‘What? Just her and me?’ Leon asked doubtfully.

  ‘Why not?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know really. It just seems a bit odd.’

  ‘She’s got no dad, the only men she knows are you and Tiger, and he’s not going to sit in a theatre, is he? Why don’t you see what’s on at the cinema and make a couple of suggestions? She can only turn you down. But lists of books? I’m not sure that’s the way forward.’ She gave him an encouraging smile.

  Maggie wanted to tell Leon about Tiger’s astonishing knowledge of Durham. She wasn’t sure why it had been so surprising, and yet it had been. And underlying that was the slightly uncomfortable feeling that she had underestimated him. She had always just taken him at face value and not looked any deeper. Thinking about it now, she supposed that there must be more to him, or his friendship with Angie wouldn’t have survived for all those years. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Leon, though. It didn’t feel quite right. She needed to talk it through with Angie. God, she missed her.

  Instead, she said, ‘Actually, I wasn’t the only one giving advice.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘No. Romany suggested that maybe I wasn’t fulfilling my potential by working at the architects’.’

  Leon raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I could have told you that,’ he said.

  ‘I know, I know. It was just, hearing it from her, a child.’

  ‘She’s eighteen, hardly a child.’

  ‘No, but you know what I mean. It made me think, that’s all.’

  ‘And what conclusion did you reach?’ he asked.

  Maggie drew in a deep breath. ‘Something needs to change,’ she said.

  43

  ‘It’s down here,’ said Romany.

  Leon was looking very unhappy, peering down the dark alleyway at the overflowing bins and stacks of beer crates.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look very promising.’

  ‘Certain,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been here loads of times.

  She led the way down the cobbled path, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of being in charge, until they came to the peeling black door.

  ‘It’s up here,’ she said.

  Leon looked back over his shoulder as if he was being led into a trap of some sort, and Romany laughed at him.

  ‘God, Leon. Don’t you ever go out?’

  ‘Not to strange pubs down dark alleys,’ he said, but she was pleased to see that he was smiling.

  The open mic night had been her idea. She had been a couple of times in the past and sat through the usual mixture of good, passable and downright dreadful acts. But there were always a few gems, shining like diamonds amongst the coal, that made it worthwhile. Tonight, though, Laura was going to sing and so Romany was mainly there to support her. A bunch of friends from school were going too, and usually she would have tagged along with them, but then she’d got a text from Leon.

  Hi Romany, the text had begun. I was wondering if you’d like to go to the cinema one night. I’m not sure what you’re into but I’m happy to go with the flow.

  Bless him, she had thought. He was doing his best and it was definitely a step up from the list of worthy but decidedly unappealing classics that he’d sent her.

  There wasn’t much on at the cinema, though, and she’d have to choose a film carefully to avoid being inadvertently hijacked by anything emotional. The last thing she needed was to cry all over Leon. She wasn’t sure the poor bloke could take it.

  But then she had thought of the open mic night. It was perfect. It was culture; there was all sorts – poetry, folk guitar, singers and other musicians – and it was live, so that meant that there wouldn’t be much time for conversation. He might even enjoy it! Leon didn’t look like he got out that often and Maggie was hardly living life on the edge.

  So, she had texted him back. My friend is playing at an open mic night on Thursday. Do you fancy going with me?

  And he had said yes.

  She led the way up the stairs and into the room at the top. It was a loft space that ran across the length of the pub downstairs with a bar at one end and a little stage at the other. The floor was just wooden boards and the walls and ceiling had been painted black, so that even though it was reasonably spacious, it felt intimate. The room was half-full already, and Romany selected a table not too close to the speakers and sat down.

  ‘I’ll have a bottle of Becks, please,’ she said.

  Leon’s expression was sceptical. ‘On a school night?’ he asked.

  She’d forgotten that he had two boys of his own and would be hot on that kind of thing. But this was her night.

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘And could you get a bag of salt and vinegar crisps as well. Tiger and I didn’t quite get round to making dinner.’

  Leon shook his head and tutted and she thought that he was about to comment on the precarious domestic arrangements at the flat, but he must have changed his mind and sauntered off to the bar instead, returning with two bottles and two bags of crisps.

  ‘So,’ he said when he’d sat down and she had torn one bag along its edges and opened it flat so they could share. ‘How does this work?’

  ‘Basically, you sign up the week before with what you want to do and on the night you get the mic and then it’s up to you. They get a mixture of acts each month. There’s a fair amount of crap poetry but the comedians are sometimes funny. And my friend Laura, that’s who we’re here to see, she’s really good.’

  ‘What does she do?’ Leon asked.

  ‘She sings and plays the guitar. She’s fantastic. She does covers of Adele songs, Norah Jones, that kind of thing, but tonight she’s going to try out one that she’s written herself, so she’s a bit more nervous.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to hearing her,’ said Leon, and Romany thought that he did actually look quite interested. As they chatted, his eyes kept flicking round the room, taking it all in. Maybe she had hit on something that they could do together, which would save her having to endure his other slightly painful suggestions.

  There was a shout from across the room and Romany looked up to see a group of her school mates plus Laura, her guitar strung across her back. Romany had intended that they would sit separately so as not to inflict them on Leon and vice versa, but now they seemed to be coming towards her and before she knew it, they were all settling themselves down around them, borrowing chairs from other tables and getting drinks.

  When they were all assembled, Romany did the introductions. Leon raised a hand in greeting and smiled widely. He didn’t say much, but he followed their conversation attentively, nodding and laughing as appropriate. He seemed to be coming alive as the place filled up and the noise levels rose. She had always taken him for a bit of a loner, had wondered why her mum had been friends with him when they appeared to be polar opposites, but maybe this was it. Maybe Leon was a creature of the night? He was chatting easily to the others now whilst they waited for the acts to start. He was actually quite funny, she thought, with a dry, sharp sense of humour and, as they all warmed into the evening, Romany began to feel quite proud of him.

  The first few acts were fairly standard – a comedian who only really had three good gags and a poet who seemed to want to rage against the machine quite a lot. Laura was down for the fifth slot and as it approached, she became quieter and quieter. Romany wanted to go and reassure her, but her chair was tucked into the wall and she couldn’t easily get closer to her friend without make a fuss. Instead, she mouthed what she hoped were helpful comments. Laura nodded, but she was biting her lip and had gone a little pale.

  Then she saw Leon lean in towards her and say something. He had turned his head away from Romany so that she couldn’t lip read, but whatever it was, it made Laura smile. She sat up straighter and seemed to get some of her colour back. And then, when the MC announced her name, she looked at Leon again, as if he was a kind of mentor. Romany was curious and she wondered what Leon had said that had made the situation less nerve-racking. She would have to ask Laura later.

  Laura took her guitar, stepped up to the little stage and perched herself on the stool in front of the microphone. Then, after a last-minute tuning check, she began. She picked out the opening melody confidently. It always surprised Romany how good she was. She didn’t go on about it and it wasn’t a talent that you could see just by looking at her, so it was easy to forget, but now, as she began to sing, it was obvious that she had something. Her voice, with its distinctive style somewhere between Amy Winehouse and Dido, was tentative to start with but then began to gain in confidence as she realised that the room was with her. When she strummed the final chord, the audience burst into appreciative applause. Laura smiled bashfully and then came back to sit with them.

  The girls all crowded around her with their fulsome praise, Romany amongst them, but she noticed that Laura only really wanted to know what Leon thought. He was nodding appreciatively and smiling widely.

  ‘That was fantastic,’ he said. ‘I loved how you built the intensity as you went through, and your bridge was the perfect counter to the rest. Mesmerising, in fact. Really good. Well done.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Laura, her eyes shining.

  Romany was intrigued. What was going on? Where was the nerdy Leon that she had always known? Not here, that was for sure. This Leon was actually pretty cool. Her friends certainly seemed to think so as they each vied for his conversational attention. Then something sparkled at the back of Romany’s memory. Hadn’t her mother told her that Leon used to play an instrument when they were at uni, that he’d been quite good?

  ‘Do you play, Leon?’ she asked him.

  The response was instantaneous and unmissable. He seemed to shrink a little in his chair and his shoulders hunched over.

  ‘Not really,’ he said into his lap. ‘I used to play a bit of sax when I was your age, that’s all.’

  ‘Were you in a band?’ asked Laura.

  Leon shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. I just played for myself really.’

  ‘You should do a slot here,’ said one of the others.

  ‘Yes!’ said Romany. ‘Yes, that’s a great idea. We can sign you up for a slot for next month. What kind of stuff do you play?’

  Leon bit his lip and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Jazz, but I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Oh, go on,’ urged Romany. ‘There’s barely anyone here anyway. It’ll be cool.’

  Leon was still looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. So then Romany deployed her killer point.

  ‘You should do it for Mum,’ she said.

  44

  ‘Did you get your uni application sent off?’ Tiger asked Romany the following Saturday. Whilst they didn’t see much of each other during the week, they had taken to coming together on a Saturday evening to watch whatever was on the television for a bit. It wasn’t too much of a sacrifice. If Romany had plans for the night, they didn’t generally kick off until a bit later, and Tiger seemed to appreciate the chance to chat. She was learning that he was good company, too.

  ‘I once met this shaman in Bali,’ he might start, or, ‘When I was working in a shoe shop in Helsinki . . .’

  She never knew what was true and what wasn’t, but she assumed that most of his stories had either happened to him or to someone he had met. She could picture him, sitting round in hostels the world over, swapping tall tales to keep the other travellers entertained. He was good at it, a natural storyteller. She hadn’t really thought that being able to tell an anecdote was such a skill until she heard Tiger weaving his. It didn’t matter how the story ended, either, whether it was funny or tragic, or whether, like some modern-day fable, it came with a warning attached. The joy of Tiger’s stories was in the journey. She had told him that he should write them down, but he just scoffed at the suggestion.

  ‘Me?’ he laughed. ‘I can barely hold a pen.’

  She thought he was joking – but she wasn’t entirely sure.

  ‘No, I’ve not sent it yet,’ she replied. ‘School said I couldn’t put just Durham down. I need a Plan B apparently, so I’ve had to do a bit of research on other places. It took a bit of time.’

  He nodded. ‘Makes sense,’ he said. ‘Although I’m sure you won’t need one – a Plan B, I mean. And Durham is still your top choice?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ she replied.