‘All my friends saw the state you put me in, so you better William the hell out of this!’
She raises her phone in selfie mode, kisses his cheek, and Charles manages to draw a smile from the relief of escaping this confrontation nearly unscratched.
Elsy uploads the photo to Instagram and mutters as she types, ‘Iwish he fitted in my suitcase, sad face, hashtag I will miss him, hashtag my everything, hashtag—’ she smacks the back of Charles’ head and walks away, ‘—jackass. You should enable being tagged in a story, for once. And you should share it.’
‘That’d be more suspicious than anything, don’t you think? I’ve never posted a thing…’
‘Maybe. True. George, shut up.’
‘I haven’t said a word!’
‘Your contempt is so loud, Chicago can hear it.’
‘I can’t help it if your subterfuge gives me—’
‘Shh! Charles, there’s a copy of your tab receipt in your coat. I want my compensation in gold. If that’s not enough for hoop earrings, sell your phone, it’s clearly useless.’
‘Yes, alright...’
Elsy strides to the door. ‘I like your place a tad better, George. It’s less narcissistic. How come? You fancy Hannah, so you don’t fancy yourself as much?’
‘I made changes in the burning hope that you’d come back! Your visits are always so pleasant, Elsy. Peaceful and—’
‘You two behead each other! With those silly samurai weapons!’
‘Those are priceless manga artefacts, and such disrespect won’t be tolerated in my—’ George drops his spoon into his bowl after Elsy slammed the door behind her. ‘Outrageous.’
Charles blows up his cheeks and exhales the anxiety arising from his feelings towards the situation. The guilt of hurting Elsy. The qualm of lying. The frightening realisation that the truth about Fred isn’t only out there for him to cope with, but also for the people who will expect him to cope with it.
‘You alright?’
‘Yes… Sorry for dragging you into this. And for worrying you.’
‘I wasn’t overly alarmed. In my defence, I was distracted. My room is off-limits by the way.’
‘Is Hannah in there, waiting for you with handcuffs?’
‘She’s gone. But I haven’t had time to clear the consequences of her vivid imagination.’
Charles chuckles, which lessens the pressure on his chest. He sits on the sofa and kicks off his shoes just as Hugo Lloris kicks the ball away from his goal.
‘Are you ready to talk about Liv’s revelations?’
‘No.’ Charles sighs, watching Tottenham’s counter-attack fail. ‘Not yet.’
‘I’m here for it anytime. Day, night, handcuffed or not.’
‘Thank you.’
It must have been an ordeal for George to broach the topic with Liv over Christmas and to witness a sorrow his sister had never expressed in front of him before. But he braved it for Charles, without any hesitation.
George gets up and disappears behind him. ‘How much was your tab that you owe Elsy golden earrings?’
‘She’s charging me with interest. Although that place overprices cocktails as if their ice cubes were made of unicorn tears.’
‘What bar doesn’t?’
Charles should tell Patty to sell cocktails, that would do wonders for her profit. Not that he knows anything about the pub’s finances. And she’s probably fine without the type of crowd that cocktails would attract. So Charles should refrain from trying to be an advisor in a field he’s clueless about.
