“Aye. By the time it had arrived he was awake and trying to persuade the paramedics not to take him. To be honest, they seemed more worried about Cameron—silly sod sat there passed out with pen all over his face. I think they thought we’d kidnapped him into a mad cult, or something.”
“Is Keith back at work?”
“Yep.”
“Is he, you know, angry at me?”
“Well, he’s not exactly delighted. But Meredith is treating him like a war hero, constantly fussing over him, so I think he’s secretly quite enjoying it. She’s the one you want to—” Peggy stopped herself.
“What?” Andrew said.
“She kept talking about getting Keith to press charges.”
“Oh god,” Andrew groaned.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Peggy said. “There is a chance I may have had a little word with her about it, and that she’s not mentioned it since.”
Andrew couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like Peggy was trying to suppress a smile.
“You sound like a Mafia boss,” he said. “But I’m very grateful, whatever you said.” He looked across at the oven clock and scrabbled to sit upright. “Jesus,” he said. “Have I really been asleep for twelve hours? What are you still doing here? You should be at home.”
“It’s all right,” Peggy said. “I’ve FaceTimed the girls. They’re staying in Croydon with one of Imogen’s friends. They got to stay up and watch something horrifically inappropriate on the telly last night so they couldn’t care less that I’m not there.”
She turned the sleeve over. “I’ve got a confession to make. I haven’t listened to the mix tape you made me.”
“I’ll let you off,” Andrew said. “Like I said”—he winced as he rubbed at his swollen foot—“it barely took any time to put together.”
Peggy placed the record carefully back on top of the pile.
“Your mam was a big fan, you said?”
“I don’t really know. I’ve just got really vivid memories of her putting these records on and singing along as she did stuff in the kitchen, or playing them out of the window as she gardened. She always seemed, I don’t know, like a completely different person when she let herself go like that.”
Peggy drew her knees up to her chest. “I’d like to say I have similar memories of my mam when I was younger, but if she was dancing around the kitchen it was usually because she was trying to wallop one of us, or there was something on fire. Or both. Right, you look like you need some toast.”
“It’s fine, I’ll do it,” Andrew said, starting to get to his feet, but Peggy told him to sit still. Andrew just hoped to god she didn’t judge him too much about the three cans of baked beans and possibly stale loaf of bread that made up the contents of the cupboard. Before he could make preemptive apologies his phone vibrated. He read the message and felt faint again. He waited until Peggy brought over a plate of generously buttered toast and a mug of tea.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” he said.
Peggy took a big bite of toast. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be honest with you, Andrew, after last night I’m not sure there’s much you can say that’ll shock me. But go for it . . .”
By the time he’d finished telling her about Carl and the blackmail Peggy had lost interest in her toast, which she’d thrown onto her plate in disgust. She was pacing back and forth, hands on hips.
“He can’t do that to you. There was a reason Sally gave you that money, and the fact he’s threatening you is outrageous. You’re going to call him right now and tell him to get fucked.”
“No,” Andrew said. “I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because . . .”
“What?”
“It’s not that easy. I can’t . . . I just can’t.”
“But it’s just an empty threat now, because it’s not as if . . .” Peggy stopped pacing and looked at him. “Because you are going to tell the others at work the truth about everything, right?”
Andrew didn’t say anything.
“Well,” Peggy said, matter-of-factly, “you’re going to have to. In two weeks’ time you’re supposed to be hosting the next dinner party so you haven’t really got a choice.”
“What?!” Andrew said. “But what about what happened at Meredith’s—that was a disaster. Surely Cameron doesn’t want that happening again.”
“Oh, on the contrary, he’s got it in his head that it’s the perfect way for you and Keith to make up. He was so hammered that night he didn’t really understand what had happened, other than that you and Keith had ‘fallen out.’ I managed to wipe his face clean and pour him into a taxi. He kept mumbling something to me about ‘redundancies,’ but god knows what’s happening there.”
Andrew folded his arms.
“I’m not telling them,” he said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? Because I’ll get fired! I can’t afford for that to happen, Peggy. I’ve got no transferable skills, for one thing.”
They were silent for a moment. Andrew really wished there were music playing. Peggy moved over to the window and stood with her back to him.
“I actually think you do have transferable skills,” she said, “that you could do something else. And I think you know you do, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andrew said.
Peggy turned around and went to speak, but then stopped, seemingly changing her mind.
“Can I ask you something?” she said eventually.
Andrew nodded.
“How much has this place changed since you moved in?”
“How do you mean?”
Peggy looked around. “When did you last buy new things? Have you, in fact, changed anything since the day Diane . . .”
Andrew suddenly felt horribly self-conscious.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Not a lot. A bit, though. The computer’s new.”
“Right. And how long have you been doing your current job?”
“What is this, an interview?” Andrew said. “Do you want another cup of tea by the way?”
Peggy came to sit next to him and took his hand in hers. “Andrew,” she said softly. “I’m not even going to pretend to know how much shit you’ve had to go through, but I do know from experience what it’s like to live in denial, to not confront things. Look at me and Steve. I knew in my heart of hearts that he wasn’t going to change but it took me sinking to absolute rock bottom to do something about it. Didn’t you have that same realization last night? Don’t you feel now that it’s time to try and move on?”
Andrew felt a tightness in his throat. His eyes began to sting. Part of him wanted Peggy to keep on at him like this, part of him just wanted to be alone.
“People won’t be as kind as you,” he said quietly. “And you couldn’t exactly blame them. I just need more time—to think about how I’m going to do it, you know?”
Peggy lifted Andrew’s hand and used hers to press it against his chest. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage.
“You’ve got to make a choice,” Peggy said. “Either you can try and keep up with the whole pretense—pay that money to Carl even though it’s yours, keep on lying to everyone—or you can tell the truth and start accepting the consequences. I know it’s hard, I really do, but . . . okay, that day in Northumberland. When we had our ‘moment,’ shall we say.”
Andrew really, really wished he didn’t blush so easily.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Look at me. Please.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay, then just close your eyes. Think back and picture that moment. You don’t have to tell me, but just think about how that made you feel. How lovely and different and . . . intense it was. I don’t know. I’m only going on how it felt for me.”
Andrew opened his eyes.
“Later,” Peggy said, “when you were falling asleep on the sofa. You kept saying, ‘You’ve saved me.’ You thought I was your way out of all this. But, and you’ve got to trust me on this, only you can change things. It has to come from you.”