The Survivors, стр. 73

‘Ash, mate,’ Kieran tried to jump in but George held up a hand.

‘It’s fine. The thing is, Ash, I only take criticism from people I’d go to for advice.’ George’s tone was light, but cut straight through. ‘And when it comes to writing, do you know how many people are in that group? About three, my friend. And not one of them is you.’

‘Hey, I’m not implying anything, mate. I don’t even read them.’ Ash took a half-step forward as George moved out from the table. ‘But I heard reviews for your last one were – what’s the polite term? – mixed.’

‘Well.’ George looked faintly amused. ‘That book let me buy your nan’s treasured family home for cash. So I reckon I must be doing something right.’

Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again in such a way that Kieran almost had to smile. The door to the toilets swung open and Olivia appeared. She looked tired and her head was down. She started towards Sean’s table when she clocked Ash and George in the other corner and stopped in her tracks.

‘But you seem to be struggling to understand what all this means, Ash,’ George was saying. His voice was flat and slow, like he was talking to a child. ‘It means I own that house now. And the garden. It also means you’d better stop hanging around my property at all hours with that look on your face. You think I didn’t see you out there again this morning?’

‘I’ve been keeping an eye on the cops for you, mate. You know how they’ve been stopping by your place the last few days? Yep –’ Ash’s voice was hard. ‘I’ve seen them in there talking to you. Why are they asking you so many questions, anyway?’

George looked at him closely, before giving a small shrug. ‘Who knows, eh? Who knows what they’ve uncovered?’

‘Liv says you wrote a pretty personal message in Bronte’s book.’

‘Hey, Ash. Don’t,’ Olivia said, but George simply frowned.

‘Did I?’ he said. ‘Probably. Bronte was trying to make it in a creative industry. I know what that’s like. She enjoyed my books. I thought her pictures were good. Her plans for making a living in an artistic field seemed professional and realistic, which is rare. You don’t see that a lot. So, yeah –’ George nodded. ‘If it surprises you that Bronte and I had enough in common to have some sort of loose friendship, then that says a lot more about you, Ash, than it does about me.’

‘I don’t know about that, mate. Not with her ending up like she did.’

‘Ash!’ Olivia was angry now. ‘Enough!’

His eyes met hers and for the first time, he hesitated. In the corner, Sean was on his feet. The sole waiter at the cash register kept looking anxiously at the door, probably wishing Julian would hurry up and return. Ash turned back to George, not quite ready to let go yet, but George had already taken a step towards the exit.

‘The thing is, mate –’ George put his satchel strap over his shoulder. ‘You can try to make this about Bronte – bit ghoulish and tacky, if you ask me – but we both know that’s not what’s driving this. It’s not even really about me ripping up that garden. Which, once again, I own.’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’ Ash was frowning.

‘No?’ George’s voice was steady and soft. ‘It’s not about the fact that it annoys you that I make more money than you doing a creative job that you don’t respect? Or how you think you could have done a lot more with your life, but have realised lately that you’ll probably never leave here?’ He glanced at Olivia, her face stormy. ‘Or how you suspect your girlfriend is too good for you? Which she absolutely is, by the way. You’re right to be worried. What? –’ George gave a hard laugh at Ash’s expression. ‘It’s not magic, mate. It’s called paying attention to your surroundings. I mean, I know literally nothing about your father, other than the fact you clearly have a very poor relationship with him –’

‘Stop tearing up the bloody garden!’ Ash shouted. ‘Jesus, it’s not about any of that stuff. Just stop destroying my garden, all right?’

There was a long silence. Ash rubbed his hands over his face and held them there, breathing in and out. Finally, he dropped them.

‘Forget it,’ he said, his voice quiet now. He looked defeated. ‘It’s too bloody late anyway.’

No-one moved, then Ash shoved a chair out of his way with a clatter.

‘I need some air.’

He let the door slam. Olivia was a few paces behind, looking upset. Through the windows, Kieran saw her follow Ash around to the side of the building. George waited only until they were clear, then adjusted his bag and walked out himself without a word, shaking his head.

Kieran and Mia watched him go, then looked over at Sean, who had sat down again in the corner.

‘Maybe we check Ash is okay then call it a night, hey?’ Mia murmured.

‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘I just want to put some money in Bronte’s collection box. Thanks –’ she said as Kieran handed her some cash to add to what she was fishing out of her own purse. ‘I’ll see you at the table.’

Kieran could hear the faint sounds of Ash and Olivia talking outside as he sat down opposite Sean. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone floating through the closed window had the feel of an argument.

‘What do you reckon?’ Kieran said as Sean looked up. ‘Try again tomorrow?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Sean raised his eyes to the window as the voices outside grew a little louder, then died away again.

‘Should one of us go out?’ Kieran said, but Sean just shrugged.

‘Wait until they come in. They do this sometimes. It runs its course, they make up.’

‘Even after what George said?’

Sean managed a thin smile. ‘Was any of that