Chapter 8

Graham was at home in his new, luxurious, one bedroom apartment overlooking the Thames, eating a breakfast of coffee, fruit and wholemeal toasted bread.

A boat passed on the Thames, probably full of tourists. On the opposite bank there were people gathering in Greenwich, around the Cutty Sark for photos, queuing to go into the ship.

The sun was in the blue sky, Graham had decided he was going to pay off his mum's debt in one big chunk, he didn't need that new car anyway, he barely needed a car, living in London. Then he would arrange monthly payments for the rest, he'd get it cleared within a year.

He'd had a wonderfully useful, friendly call with Julia, the fiancée of his new client, Dave, and thought he'd persuaded her to take him up on the offer of styling her and the immediate wedding party so it went together well. They weren't having a formal wedding planner, which since Julia was a celebrity, had surprised Graham, but she'd explained because it was the second time round, for both her and her groom, she didn't want it to be a big splashy do, and they'd turned down an offer from a celebrity magazine for exclusive photo rights. She wasn't going for the enormous meringue of a white dress, huge long train, like Charles and Diana's wedding in 1981 and as she'd had for her first wedding. This, Julia explained, was to be minimalist, sophisticated, confident. Graham knew he could make her vision a reality, and had told her.

Graham felt everything was finally getting itself onto an even keel. He felt guilty that the biggest reason for this was their mum's passing. Of course, he loved her, always had, always would. It was just the having to parent the parent that had become exhausting, tiresome, and had taken over his life somewhat. He'd not only brought up Sam as if he were his son, but he'd also looked after their mum, from when he was a teenager. And she hadn't needed less care as she became older. Trips to the doctor, spells in hospital when she fell over drunk, attempts at rehab, each time failing. He'd been there for all of it, coordinating her care, being her advocate, driving her here and there.

Now, it was all over.

His phone rang, it was Sam.

Graham answered it with a smile. ‘I was just thinking about you. Well, Mum actually.'

‘Thing is,' Sam said, sounding frantic. ‘I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important.'

‘What's wrong? What's happened?' His throat tightened; his stomach constricted as worry flooded him.

‘Can you ask another personal shopper friend; I assume you have those?'

‘Yes.' Graham was uncertain where this was going.

‘Can you ask a mate to take on the Julia Lopez and Dave Hilsea clients?'

‘Why?' He very rarely did this. Only in exceptional circumstances when they couldn't get on. He told his brother.

‘The thing is; Julia is Ryan's mum.'

‘Is she? He's never mentioned in any of the articles or seen in photos with her.'

‘He and his sister, Sophie never wanted the limelight. Their dad's fabulous too. Big TV presenter, broadcaster, used to present Strictly Dancing. Loads of chat shows. Grant Wilson.'

‘Married to a man, who's younger than I am?'

‘That's right. He's Ryan's age actually.'

‘Takes all sorts, right?' Graham asked.

‘Right. Which is why I'm asking you this. I wouldn't. I said to Ryan, that I'd ask you. So here I am. Asking you.'

Graham frowned, watched another boat sailing down the Thames, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shut his eyes in thought. ‘I don't understand why he's so anti-me.'

‘It's complicated.'

Graham rolled his eyes. ‘Isn't it always?'

‘I think it's all to do with his mum and how he doesn't really want her to re-marry. There's a lot to unpack about that.'

‘I see. And this has to do with me, why?' The more Sam asked, the less Graham was inclined to acquiesce. He'd already put quite a lot of time into this client relationship, as he always did, and if he passed them over, he'd receive nothing.

‘He didn't say. They were at our place recently. All got totally pissed. I came home and they were practically dead on the sofa.'

‘Dead?'

‘Drunk. Full of curry. Stroking their stomachs cos, they were so full. You know.'

Graham nodded. ‘And what did he say?'

‘He said could I ask you to please not do the job with his mum and that Dave bloke?'

‘You said. What you didn't say is why.' If he was going to drop this job, abandon these clients, Graham needed to understand the reasons behind it, why it was so pressingly important to Ryan.

There was silence.

Graham said, ‘If Ryan really doesn't want me working with his mum and Dave, he should talk to me himself. I, for one, thought we got on well, and am really excited to get to know one of your friends better.'

‘So that's a hard no, then?'

‘It is. Unless you can explain why.'

Another silence. Long and awkward.

‘Did he not tell you?' Graham asked.

‘He said it was because he didn't want his mum marrying that guy.'

It felt like a very childish and selfish reason. ‘And me not styling him is going to resolve that?' Graham shook his head in disbelief. ‘Doesn't make sense. Not to me anyway. It might in Ryan's head, but to me, not so much. Tell him to call me.'

‘Why?'

‘I want him to explain why. I want to hear it straight from his mouth, rather than second-hand, related via you. To be clear, I don't want him to call me, because I'd prefer, we didn't have that conversation and he let me get on with my job. Why? What did you mean?' There seemed to be something else behind Sam's question.

Silence for a beat, then Sam said, ‘He's not interested in you in that way. He's not interested in anyone in that way. He's just Ryan.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘Nothing.' There was definitely something behind that tone in Sam's voice.

‘Bullshit,' Graham said.

‘I thought I saw some looks, that's all.'

‘There were no looks. Not from my side. I can assure you, very firmly indeed. If there were any looks, they were coming from your friend's direction. Besides, even if he was interested, which he isn't, I'm not interested in another fixer-upper boyfriend, someone I need to look after. I'm all done with that. I'm putting myself first. I'm focussing on being more selfish. Because it's not always selfish to think of yourself first.' It was just that Graham had spent his life, from twelve, looking after others' interests before his own. And now his mum had passed, and he was single, he wasn't falling back into that way of being with others.

‘I'll tell him,' Sam said.

‘No need. Besides, he's not interested. He doesn't date. He's not even gay, apparently, he's Ryan.' Graham rolled his eyes, whatever that bullshit meant. A pause and Graham decided he was done with this subject. ‘I'm going to pay half of Mum's debt in a lump sum. Then the rest monthly.'

‘Where are you getting the money from?'

‘Rainy day fund.'

‘Weren't you saving for a new car?'

‘No.' Yes. ‘It was a just in case fund.'

‘Let me contribute too. Even if it's a little bit each month, it'll help, won't it?'

‘It will.'

‘Thanks,' Sam said.

‘What for?'

‘Everything.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Being you. Looking after me when Mum couldn't. I appreciate it.'

A lump formed in Graham's throat. They didn't often discuss stuff like this. Sam was pretty understated. They both knew they'd had a difficult childhood and didn't reminisce about it much. It had been something they'd got through, difficult day at a time, rather than a memory to be cherished. ‘Yeah well, I did my best.' Out of a shit situation.

A pause, and then Sam said, ‘Cheers. Best get on.' He ended the call.

What a strange thing to ask your friend to ask someone, Graham reflected. If Ryan really disliked him, he'd masked it well. Ryan seemed to like him. So, what was it making Ryan so keen to not see Graham again? Getting on with his best friend's brother would surely be good, wouldn't it? It was hardly like they were a big family; it was just Graham and Sam. No dad, and their mum now gone. Mum didn't have any siblings, or if she did, they never saw them. Graham wondered if he had some long-lost aunties and uncles scattered around the country. It would have been typical for their mum to not tell them. Perhaps she'd fallen out with them too, and thought it best not to mention it.

Maybe.

He finished his breakfast then jumped in the shower, ready for the day where he was meeting a client in Bond Street for a luxury, high-end, designer makeover. No budget, high fashion. His favourite sort of client.

Brilliant.