Charles looks up at Patty who’s just collected his empty glass from the table. ‘No, thank you. I need to head off.’
‘You’re leaving before Loris is done coaching?’
‘Family duties. My aunt and her third husband are coming over. They drive my parents ballistic, I’m looking forward to dinner. Oh, I truly am! I’m never involved in their verbal fencing. I just enjoy the bloodbath, my food tastes like popcorn.’
Patty’s wrinkles deepen but, true to herself, she lets it go. ‘If you’re not here to keep Loris company, I’m gonna find more sketches of your face at the back of my invoices tomorrow.’
‘He does that?’
She rolls her eyes, but as soon as they fall back on Charles’ beatific smile, she drops the jaded act. ‘I like the mood he’s in. He’s even more patient with halfwits than he was before. I’m counting on you to keep this going. You take good care of him, you hear me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Oi! Patty! Should I help myself?’
‘Piss off, Richie!’ She raises her middle finger at the customer who’s drumming on the counter. ‘King of all halfwits… Jesus, I can’t do this anymore,’ she growls as she stomps away. ‘I’m also counting on you to keep Loris from leaving London, Charles. I don’t care about his plans. The little shit shouldn’t have made himself indispensable.’
Charles comes to a blunt stop after two steps towards the door. He pivots with a choked-up ‘Sorry?’ but Patty is alreadyby the counter, barking at Richie.
So Charles walks away, tucking his scarf into his coat, already cold although he’s still inside.
The comment digs itself a niche in Charles’ stomach, where it heaves all night.
His food tastes sour rather than caramelised, and the sardonic exchanges between Milton and his sister fail at distracting him from pernicious thoughts.
Once in bed, he grants himself a short pen-clicking session – during which he comes up with three catastrophic scripts – before grabbingThe Mind of Wonders. He wants to find a new angle to rouse the Pavel debate with Loris. It will result in their clothes carpeting the floor and hopefully in their bodies melded together like they’ve never been.
It feels like a healthier prospect to obsess over than whatever Patty’s remark meant.
TWENTY-FOUR
Charles presses Loris’ arm to bring his mind back down to Earth – on Hampstead High Street. Initially ecstatic about his fantasy of getting a ride in Milton’s Bentley, Loris fell quiet and lost himself in thought after Charles pointed out that he doesn’t drive.
‘It’s not a big deal, you know. I don’t need to.’
Charles rubs his ears through his beanie. They’ve decided to walk to the pub chosen by Phoebe for their gathering, but the temperature keeps on dropping.
‘But that’s not the only reason?’
‘No. My parents never encouraged me to pass my driving test. And it made me anxious, because of my brain’s tendency to log off. I often spaced out while on a run, until I bumped into someone, so taking the wheel never felt wise.’ Charles huddles against Loris’ jacket now that they’re on a darker side street. ‘Perhaps in the future.’
‘But you’re not scared of being in a car, right?’
‘Not at all, I trust people.’
‘Then I could drive you. All the way to Kent! My grandad would pass out if he saw me in a Bentley!’
‘Is it your way to invite me to the countryside? Smooth.’
‘No…’ Loris comes to a stop. ‘I mean, it wasn’t, but—’
‘I’m kidding.’
‘—it could be.’
‘We’re never borrowing the Bentley.’
‘But we could rent a car for a weekend. There are many places I want to visit on the coast.’
