‘I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for your kids.’
‘No,’ she said, trying to sound a little more diplomatic. ‘It’s very kind of you, but we’ll be fine out here.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘You know what? I can’t sleep in a hotel room knowing that there’s a boy who just got out of hospital sleeping in the back seat of a car twenty feet away. Nicky can have the other bed.’
‘No,’ she said, reflexively.
‘Why?’
She couldn’t say.
His expression darkened. ‘I’m not a pervert.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’
‘So why won’t you let your son share a room with me? He’s as tall as I am, for Christ’s sake.’
Jess flushed. ‘He’s had a tough time lately. I just need to keep an eye on him.’
‘What’s a pervert?’ said Tanzie.
‘I could charge up my Nintendo,’ said Nicky, from the back seat.
‘You know what? This is a ridiculous discussion. I’m hungry. I need to get something to eat.’ Mr Nicholls poked his head in through the door. ‘Nicky. Do you want to sleep in the car or in the hotel room?’
Nicky looked sideways at Jess. ‘Hotel room. And I’m not a pervert either.’
‘Am I a pervert?’ said Tanzie.
‘Okay,’ said Mr Nicholls. ‘Here’s the deal. Nicky and Tanzie sleep in the hotel room. You can sleep on the floor with them.’
‘But I can’t let you pay for a hotel room for us, then make you sleep in the car. Besides, the dog will howl all night. He doesn’t know you.’
Mr Nicholls rolled his eyes. He was clearly losing patience. ‘Okay, then. The kids sleep in the hotel room. You and I sleep in the car with the dog. Everyone’s happy.’ He didn’t look happy.
‘I’ve never stayed in a hotel. Have I stayed in a hotel, Mum?’
There was a brief silence. Jess could feel the situation sliding away from her.
‘I’ll mind Tanze,’ said Nicky. He looked hopeful. His face, where it wasn’t bruised, was the colour of putty. ‘A bath would be good.’
‘Would you read me a story?’
‘Only if it has zombies in it.’ Jess watched as he half smiled at her. And that smile was what broke her.
‘Okay,’ she said. And tried to fight the wave of nausea at what she had just agreed to.
The mini-mart squatted, illuminated, in the shadow of a logistics company across the road, its windows bright with exclamation marks and offers on crispy fish bites and fizzy drinks. She bought rolls and cheese, crisps and overpriced apples, and made the kids a picnic supper, which they ate on the grassy slope around the car park. On the other side the traffic thundered past in a purple haze towards the south. She offered Mr Nicholls some, but he peered at the contents of her bag and said thanks but he’d eat in the restaurant. She suspected he wanted a break from them.
Once he was out of sight, Jess relaxed too. She set the kids up in their room, feeling faintly wistful that she wasn’t in with them. It was on the ground floor, facing the car park. She had asked Mr Nicholls to park as close to their window as possible, and Tanzie made her go outside three times, just so she could wave at her through the curtains and squash her nose sideways against the glass.
Nicky disappeared into the bathroom for an hour, the taps running. He came out, switched on the television and lay on the bed, looking simultaneously exhausted and relieved.
Jess laid out his pills, got Tanzie bathed and into her pyjamas, and warned them not to stay up too late. ‘And no smoking,’ she warned him. ‘Seriously.’
‘How can I?’ he said, grumpily. ‘You’ve got my stash.’
Tanzie lay on her side, working her way through her maths books, locked into a silent world of numbers. Jess fed and walked the dog, sat in the passenger seat with the door open, ate a cheese roll and waited for Mr Nicholls to finish his meal.
It was a quarter past nine, and she was struggling to read a newspaper in the fading light when he appeared. He was holding a phone in a way that suggested he had just come off another call, and he seemed about as pleased to see her as she was him. He opened the door, climbed in and shut it.
‘I’ve asked Reception to ring me if anyone cancels their booking.’ He stared ahead at the windscreen. ‘Obviously I didn’t tell them I’d be waiting in their car park.’
Norman was lying on the tarmac, looking like he’d been dropped from a great height. She wondered whether she should bring him in. Without the children in the back, and with the encroaching darkness, it felt even odder to be in the car beside Mr Nicholls.
‘Are the kids okay?’
‘They’re very happy. Thank you.’
‘Your boy looks pretty bashed up.’
‘He’ll be fine.’
There was a long silence. He looked at her. Then he put both hands on the wheel, and leant backwards in his seat. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and turned to face her. ‘Okay … so have I done something else to upset you?’
‘What?’
‘You’ve acted like I’m bugging you all day. I apologized for the thing in the pub the other night. I’ve done what I can to help you out here. And yet still I get the feeling I’ve done something wrong.’
‘You – you haven’t done anything wrong,’ she stammered.
He studied her for a minute. ‘Is this, like, a woman’s “There’s nothing wrong” when actually what you mean is that I’ve done something massive and I’m actually supposed to guess? And then you get really mad if I don’t?’
‘No.’
‘You see, now I don’t know. Because that “no” might be part of the woman’s “There’s nothing wrong.”’
‘I’m not speaking in code. There’s nothing wrong.’
‘Then can we just ease up around each other a bit? You’re making me really uncomfortable.’
‘I’m making you uncomfortable?’
His head swivelled slowly.
‘You’ve looked like you regretted offering us this lift since the moment we got into the car. In fact, since before we got in.’ Shut up, Jess, she warned herself. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. ‘I’m not even sure why you did it.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, turning away. ‘Forget it.’