‘I was angry. And why should I believe what she says when she … she …’
‘When she’s been so truthful in the past?’
‘She told the truth once, after lying for months. Who’s to say she’s changed that much? You can take the girl out of the estate …’
‘Oh, fuck off! Listen to yourself!’
Jenna felt her face burn. She knew that had been a low thing to say, but somehow she couldn’t seem to let go of this paranoia, and it had the upper hand of her.
‘So,’ she said in a low, barely controlled voice, ‘you’re saying that Kayley is more important to you than I am?’
‘Don’t be a dick, Jen.’ He picked up his cat, as if he needed it as a shield, tickling it under its ears. ‘I’m not saying that. But what I am saying is that, until you pick up that phone and give that girl her job back, I don’t want to know you.’
Jenna’s head was a deafening noise of conflicting options. Admit she’d acted in haste? Burst into tears? Run into Jason’s arms? Swallow her pride?
But her pride was like a lump of hot ash in her throat; unswallowable. She was still too angry, too hurt.
‘I guess I’ll see you later then,’ she said hoarsely, and she left the attic.
‘Jen, don’t …’
Jason’s voice in its exasperation floated after her, but she stomped down the back stairs with miserable determination.
She had done nothing wrong. She’d fired plenty of people for much less. It was Jason, with his estate code of ‘look after your mates’, who was at fault.
There was no way she
was stewing around the house all day, waiting for Jason to come downstairs and speak sense. He could get knotted.
She switched off her mobile, picked up her handbag and headed for the car. If she wanted to look into those old parish records, now seemed like a very good time for it.
Some hours later, she was thoughtful at the wheel. So thoughtful that she sat at a red light long after it had turned green. Only the impatient honking from behind her brought her back to herself.
What she had found out at the county archive was potentially immense news.
She wasn’t even sure she could tell Jason. Would he want to know? Almost certainly not.
The spat with Kayley was a long way back in her mind now. Even Deano hadn’t featured in her consciousness for hours.
So she was almost surprised when she walked into the kitchen and found no Kayley, sitting at the table with her notebook, looking at spreadsheets with a mug of tea to hand.
The memory hit her like a sledgehammer.
Oh.
God, she had been completely over the top. Jason was right. Kayley was their friend, and at heart she was loyal to a fault. If she’d been sucked in by Deano, she was hardly to blame for it. More sophisticated people than Kayley fell prey to his manipulations and charms every day of the week.
She went to the wine rack, took out a bottle of Jason’s favourite red, and headed upstairs with two glasses and a corkscrew.
‘Pax,’ she said, entering the attic and holding out her peace offerings, but she was stopped in her tracks by the progress he’d made on his history of Bledburn fresco. It was finished. ‘Wow.’
‘What’s stuffing mix got to do with it?’ asked a yawning Jason, who had been asleep on the manky old sleeping bag she’d somehow never been able to bully him into throwing out. The cat was lying on his chest, purring away.
Jenna laughed. ‘I said pax, not Paxo. It means, let’s call a truce. Jason, this is just … well, I don’t use the word much because it’s overdone these days, but in this case it really does apply. It’s awesome.’
‘Cheers. I’m quite chuffed with it myself.’ He sat up, dislodging Bowyer, who mewed and gave him a dirty look. ‘What’s the wine for …? Oh yeah. I remember now.’
‘Are you still talking to me?’