‘Happy birthday to you…’ The tune rang out with a line of waiters following a large cake, complete with candles and indoor sparklers. The other diners began joining in and I could see Alex torn as to what he felt he should do.
‘Go!’ I said and kissed him quickly. ‘It’s just a cake.’
He nodded, made an apologetic goodbye gesture to the table and headed off to the exit. I watched him go for a moment before my attention was drawn back to the cake now being lowered onto the table. Alex was pretty gorgeous but, boy, this chocolate-sprinkled creation looked almost as delicious as he did.
Amy and I were now sitting next to one another as Marcus and Charlie chatted and demolished enormous slices of cake between them. Though, to be fair, our own slices were hardly what one could call petite either.
I looked up to find her studying me.
‘What?’ I said, around a mouthful of utter chocolate yumminess.
‘Babe?’
I made a non-committal face. ‘It’s affectionate.’
‘Libs, you hate being called babe!’
‘I never said I hated it.’
‘You did actually.’
She was right and I knew this. For a long time, I’d never given it a thought if someone ever called me ‘babe’. And then, a couple of years ago, the boys went through a phase of watching the filmBabe. And, as could often be the case with small people, they chose to watch it over and over again. To the point where I became conditioned that upon hearing that word all I could think of was a little piglet. Admittedly, a cute little piglet. But a pig all the same.
‘Oh. Well, maybe it just depends on who’s calling me it.’
‘Really,’ Amy said flatly.
‘Maybe.’
‘Why don’t you just tell him you don’t like it?’
‘I can’t! I kind of just let it go the first few times because we’ve hardly been able to get together much, what with his shifts and holiday cover, plus all his studying for the detective exam stuff. Not to mention the craziness that is my work right now. I didn’t want it to come out wrong when it’s all so new anyway. And then it sort of seemed like I’d missed the moment to say, “You know what? Can you not call me babe, because all I can think of when I hear that is a pig?” It’s a ridiculous reason, Ames! I can see that, even if I can’t help it.’
‘So? It might be a bit ridiculous, but that’s you!’
I looked at her. ‘Did that come out exactly how it was supposed to?’
‘No, not really. But you get the idea. You’re entitled to have your own preferences and reasons, however ridiculous they may seem to anyone else. We can’t all be as logical as… say, Charlie!’
Upon hearing his name, Charlie looked up and gave a sideways glance at his brother. ‘Have you any idea what I’ve done this time?’
Marcus pulled a ‘not a clue’ face.
‘You haven’t done anything,’ Amy said, leaning across the table and patting his hand. I was tactile all the time. Amy was alcohol-induced tactile. ‘Libby was berating herself for not always being the most logical, but I said that it was all right and that not everyone is like you. Not that you being logical is a bad thing. It’s just a… thing.’
‘Libby’s logical when she needs to be. In business, for example.’
‘Exactly!’ Amy said, enthusiastically.
‘If you were as logical as me all the time, you wouldn’t be you. And that wouldn’t do at all. We need your…’ I saw a glint in his eye and smile curve onto his lips ‘… your va-va-voom to keep us all amused and on our toes!’
My eyes widened as I immediately realised what he was referring to. The last time he’d used that exact phrase was when what he’d now christened the ‘Sports Illustratedpicture’ of me had popped up on the computer.
He met my look with an orchestrated innocent one of his own.
‘See?’ Amy said, completely unaware of the double meaning Charlie had infused his reply with.
‘What’s she got to be logical about, anyway? Marcus asked.
