In the morning, when I opened my eyes, Sunny was already awake. He was sitting up against the pillows, one arm around the back of my head, hand resting on my shoulder, the other hand holding my water-damaged copy ofWolf Hall.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, reaching down to kiss my forehead.
“You’re not actually reading that, are you?”
“I’m not sure anybody hasactuallyread this. It’s impenetrable.”
“I only keep it there to impress boys,” I said.
Sunny threw the book on the floor and snuggled down into the bed until our noses were touching.
“You don’t need a book to impress me, Ludo Ben. You’re impressive enough all on your own.”
Then he kissed me.
“Hilary Mantel will be rolling in her grave,” I said. “All those hours researching Thomas Cromwell, completely wasted.”
After round two, and a shower, Sunny suggested we go for breakfast somewhere.
“We’ve got some serious talking to do,” he added.
It was the most deflating thing he could have said.
Chapter37
Sunny
Alarm bells started ringing in my head the instant I saw the queue and the expensive-looking people standing in it. Ludo had suggested breakfast at a posh place on the Hampstead High Street called Arabella McPhee’s. It had cute blue-and-green tartan tablecloths and gold lettering on the door and called itself a patisserie.
“You join the queue,” I said. “I’ll grab a menu.”
Ludo nodded. He’d been quiet since we left the house, which I found unsettling.
I found the menu by the door. Fear confirmed. A piece of toast with jam here would clear out my bank account.
I scoured the list for the full English. “Twenty-four quid? Piss off!”
An elderly woman in the queue clutched her chihuahua and glared at me. I apologised. She didn’t reply. That decided it. I wasn’t eating here. It was time for Ludo to visit the wrong side of the tracks.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I announced, finding him at the end of the queue. “There’s a great little caff near mine. Proper full English. Bottomless coffee. You’ll love it.”
Ludo frowned.
“But this is the most popular place in Hampstead. People fly in from Paris just for the friands.”
“Let me take you to the most popular place in Willesden.”
He raised his eyebrows. Then shrugged, giving in.
“Fine, let’s find a cab.”
“Sod that. It’s a ten-minute walk to Swiss Cottage, and we can take the Jubilee line to Dollis Hill. We’ll be there in no time.”
* * *
Half an hour later we were sitting at a table outside Gloria’s, Willesden’s best greasy spoon. Your elbows stuck to the table, but it was five quid for a fry-up, and they kept your coffee mug topped up. The waitress came out instantly and took our order. Two full English breakfasts and two bottomless coffees, for the grand total of fourteen pounds. Sweet.
The waitress disappeared back into the caff. Ludo picked up the used ashtray that sat between us, intent on moving it to another table, but fumbled it, and it fell to the pavement, spilling ash and cigarette butts all over the ground and my trainers.
