“It’s like being godfather to Frank Spencer.”
“Who?”
“Never mind, dear boy. If only you could be clumsy on demand, we could book the Palladium and sell tickets.”
Uncle Ben sucked back on his cheroot and coughed.
“Thesituation?” he repeated.
“Better than expected,” I confessed. I told him about the apology and the pyjama party. “Then this morning he was incredibly sweet and held my knee while I had a minor panic attack about a helicopter ride.”
“My God, do you remember Cannes?”
“But then afterwards, he slipped me his MP3.’
“Sounds positively erotic.”
I rolled my eyes. “He shared his audio file.”
“I’m not sure I understand your generation,” Uncle Ben said. “In my day, if you were sweet on a boy, you shared a kiss, not an audio file. Occasionally, you might even share a police cell. But the 1950s were like that.”
“What the bally hell makes you think he’s sweet on me?” I asked.
“Isn’t he sweet on you? You watched movies together. In your pyjamas. In your bed.”
“I don’t think he is.”
“But you’re sweet on him.”
It was a statement, not a question. I was taken aback. Where had he got that impression? What had I said? Wait,wasI sweet on Sunny Miller? I didn’t think so.
“We’re just colleagues, Uncle Ben,” I said.
“If you say so, darling boy.” He sounded disappointed.
“Put it this way: So far, he hasn’t asked me to put in a good word for him with Father, Mummy, or Jonty. So, he might be an overzealous class warrior, but at least he’s not using me as a stepladder to a better job. That’s more than I can say for most of the other reporters I’ve met since joining theSentinel.”
There was a knock on my bedroom door.
“I bet you that’s him now,” Uncle Ben said. “Bearing champagne and roses and confessions of undying love.”
“It’s probably the landlady,” I said. “I better go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“If it’sthesituation, dear boy, then he’s definitely sweet on you!”
I sighed heavily.
“Goodnight, Uncle Ben.”
“Sweet dreams, dear boy.”
We ended the call, Uncle Ben’s words rattling around in my head like a pea in a baby’s rattle, demanding attention. I got up and opened the door…
Chapter19
Sunny
Ludo opened the door dressed like after-hours Don Draper fromMad Men. All that was missing was the tumbler of whisky. I felt a flush of excitement at seeing him, which disconcerted me slightly. When had that started? Hopefully, it didn’t show on my face.
