The Key to Finding Jack Ewa Jozefkowicz (books to read for self improvement TXT) 📖

I had no job. Then he asked what sort of stuff I could do, and said that his uncle was looking for a receptionist. I thanked him, but I thought it was just chat. So when he messaged me a couple of days later to say that I had an interview the following week, I couldn’t believe it. I ended up spending most of the money he’d lent me on a dress because I didn’t have anything professional to wear. I’ve been here almost a year now. I’m in a nice flat-share too, because I could afford to move out of the hostel when I got my first payslip from Michael.’

‘Do you like it here?’ I asked. Now that she had changed back into her own clothes, I couldn’t imagine Manfy working in an office.

‘Yes. I used to be on reception, but last month I got promoted to a sales role. I get to drive around and show people properties. Some of them are huge, with swimming pools and everything. It’s fun to imagine living in a house like that. Michael’s a great boss and the money’s not bad. I never imagined that I’d be working in an estate agent’s. I always thought I’d be a musician or a photographer. I still might be one day – I love taking pictures. You never know, do you?’

‘What sort of photos do you take?’

‘I have an old camera that belonged to my dad. It still uses film. I don’t put my photos on Instagram or anything. I only have hard copies that are mine to keep. It makes them more special. I like taking photos of people, capturing what makes them unique. With Jack, it was the way he laughed – he almost completely closed his eyes. Did you ever notice that?’

‘Of course,’ I said, and I knew that my voice had an angry edge to it. I think Manfy heard it, because she put her hand on top of mine as if to show her support.

‘I’ve taken a couple of good shots of him. I’ll give them to you when I develop the film,’ she promised.

‘Did you and Jack end up going out?’ I asked, swallowing hard. I dreaded the answer, because if she said ‘Yes’, it would be another part of my brother’s life that I knew nothing about.

‘No,’ she said and I could feel my shoulders relaxing. ‘But we hung out together a lot. I offered to teach him guitar in return for everything he’d done for me. He was getting good by the end – I mean, before he left.’

I recalled the battered guitar that Jack had bought second-hand from a music shop near Tottenham Court Road. He used to strum it sometimes when we sat in his room and chatted.

‘He was talking about doing grades, because his music teacher at sixth form had encouraged him. He sounded like a pretty awesome guy from what Jack said. Nothing like the teachers I had – they really didn’t seem to care at all.’

‘What was his name?’ Keira asked.

‘Who?’

‘This teacher?’

‘Oh, Finny. I’m pretty sure it’s a nickname – it’s what Jack used to call him. Finny taught him how to read music. I only taught myself the different strings. I don’t actually know any notes.’

‘So you would hang out and play the guitar?’ It was only when I said it aloud that I realised that I was jealous. I knew how stupid that was, but I couldn’t help it. He was totally allowed to have this other part of his life. We’d still done loads together.

‘Yeah, and sometimes at the shop. He was such good fun,’ Manfy continued. I hated that she kept using the past tense. ‘Did he ever tell you about the trick we played on Sutty?’

I shook my head.

‘Sutty is petrified of ghosts. He kept telling us about how his parents’ house is haunted. Unexplained things went on there, like stuff going missing and glasses getting smashed in the middle of the night. His mum dismissed all these things as random accidents but Sutty was sure there were supernatural forces at play.

‘Anyway, he used to do stocktakes at the shop once a month, usually on a Friday evening, and he would pay me and Jack to help. On one of those evenings, Jack thought it would be hilarious to pretend to go to the loo, fiddle with the fuse and turn all the lights off. Then he put an old white sheet over one of the kids’ toy drones that Sutty sold – the ones operated by a remote control – and sent it flying round the shop, banging into walls and shelves, causing loads of stuff to fall down. He played some shrieking sounds that he’d found on a YouTube horror film clip to make it even scarier.

‘I couldn’t stop laughing – it looked so ridiculous, but Sutty was scared out of his mind.’

The thought of Jack’s ‘ghost’ whizzing round the shop was enough to make even me smile. I noticed that the horrible drumming in my head had eased as Manfy was talking and, as I drank my sugary tea, I began to feel a bit better.

‘He loves a practical joke,’ I said.

‘Did he tell you the one that he played on your grandma?’

‘On Grandma Sylvie?’ I couldn’t believe that anyone would dare play a joke on her. She had always been super-strict, even with her appearance: she had flawless make-up, poker straight hair, and her immaculately plucked eyebrows disappeared into her fringe when she was cross. Then you knew you were in Deep Trouble.

‘Yeah, it was a great one,’ Manfy continued. ‘She was mad for a while, but she forgave him in the end. How could you not forgive Jack?’

Manfy’s story was interrupted by an urgent beeping from her phone.

‘I totally forgot I was supposed to be collecting the keys from my new landlord,’ she said, wincing. ‘But here, take my number,’ she added, scrawling it on a piece of paper and handing it