‘When you say it like that it sounds weird. I didn’t mean it like that!’
‘Oh, you want to lend them to me but for me not wear them, just carry them around. Hmm, little bit kinky for dawn on a Sunday morning. I may have to tell Temperance.’ Rory had met Temperance in the mini-mart yesterday and the two had bonded ridiculously quickly.
‘You’re an idiot. You know what I meant.’
‘Uhhuh, I’m saying what you meant. You want me in your trackies…’ He giggles and then looks mortified. ‘You know I’m just joking, right?’ He uses both hands, flat out and down, to try and reinforce his message. He looks a bit panicked. Which I’m not sure is flattering.
‘Woah, woah. We’re good. I’ve known you, what, ten years? I think it’s safe to say I wouldn’t be comfortable inviting you to spend time with me and Marsha if you were some kind of predatory sex pest slathering to get in my trousers.’
Rory nods in a relieved fashion and then makes some freaky kind of laugh/groan/monster noise and pretends to dribble whilst rolling his eyes into the back of his head.
‘Ha, ha, you look like the men I date when you do that.’
Rory laughs and then looks at me as I drive. ‘Yeah but you’ve grown out of them now, right?’ he says.
‘Oh yeah, yeah, of course,’ I reassure him. And then that whole not being able to lie thing kicks in and I can’t not say it. ‘Well, kinda. I’m trying, let’s go with that. I am not going to date Lost Boys anymore.’ He quirks an eyebrow. ‘I want to keep my mind solely on getting the Shakespeare project off the ground, concentrate all my energies into that. I can’t think of anything I want less in my life than some man trying to get in my pants, lessen my focus. I really have got enough going on at the moment as it is. Seriously, naked Idris Elba could turn up and declare undying love on my doorstep right now and I’d tell him to put some clothes on and leave me alone. I am off men for good, for good! Especially after my last boyfriend and that whole internet palaver…’ I trail off and wince, shooting a quick look in the rear-view mirror to check that Marsha is still plugged in.
He stares at me. Shit. If I weren’t driving I’d close my eyes. Instead, I fix my eyes firmly on the road ahead. If only I had one of thoseMen In Blackzapper thingys. That would come in handy right now. I count to twenty and risk glancing across at him. He’s still staring at me, a definite twitching at the corners of his mouth. He grins.
‘So, the internet palaver?’
Argh! Eyes on the road.
‘Please don’t make me tell you.’
‘Okay.’ And that is that. Luisa would have pushed for detail. My family would have launched into a litany of you-can’t-be-trusted. Rory just starts to chat about one of his clients, a Formula 1 driver, comparing him to me.
‘How, how are you still alive?’
‘No wonder walking on the edge of the Suspension Bridge held no fear for you.’
‘Have you ever considered a career as a rally driver?’
These are just some of the comments he makes as we swing around corners and down lanes. ‘Outrageous hyperbole, Walters. I did an advanced driving course the minute Marsha was born, to reassure myself I was competent enough to put that bundle of screwy-eyed, bawling treasure in the back of my car when I started godmother duties proper.’
‘And you passed?’
‘Aced it!’
Rory hmpfs and then grabs the dashboard as I come to a shrieking halt behind a van.
‘Jesus!’
‘Shhh! Marsha will tell Temperance on you.’
‘I believe you. I reckon she’d sell you out too, if she got a good enough deal.’
‘Yep, she would.’ As the van moves off I have a flash of guilt. Rory’s girlfriend died,diedin a car accident and here I am driving super-fast, although as I believe I may have mentioned, competently. How selfish am I? How could I forget such a huge thing and drive at speed? I slow down and flash a quick glance at him. I really am a complete arsehole. He seems pretty oblivious, and his mild teasing appears to be exactly that, rather than some kind of PTSD call for help. But still, how could I be so thoughtless?
‘Just a minute, are we going to your parents’ house? Voluntarily?’ Rory asks, recognition clear on his face as he clocks the village we’re turning towards.
‘Not exactly, no.’ I check the mirror to make sure Marsha can’t hear, and sure enough she’s still lost in her story. I have never wanted her to meet the duo of toxic negativity that are Nick and Cyndi and today is no different. ‘But we are stopping, just here.’ I pull up outside a rundown, roofless stone hut. ‘Wait a minute.’
‘What the?’
‘Where’s Belle going?’ I hear Marsha ask through the open car door. It’s important I’m quick here, that I’m not spotted.
‘I have no idea,’ Rory says, ‘but let’s trust her and if she’s not back in one minute we’ll go find out.’
