Duran Duran’s ‘A View to a Kill’ comes on.
‘I haven’t watched a Bond film in ages,’ Charlie says, getting up to join me at the oven while I grill our sandwiches. He’s wearing battered, worn jeans with a rip across one knee, and his T-shirt is dark grey, but I have a feeling it used to be black. It’s frayed around the hem.
‘Dad and I watchedSkyfallfor the third time the night before I came here,’ I reveal, remembering to check that our food isn’t burning. I peer into the oven. ‘We love a bit of 007. I grew up on Bond. God, I miss television,’ I say out of the blue, straightening up. ‘Especially on days like this.’ I look out of the window.
‘You can watch TV here, any night you like,’ he offers.
I glance at him. ‘I wasn’t trying to invite myself over.’
‘I mean it. I actually miss watching telly with company. The amount of times I used to argue with Nicki about what to watch... I used to encourage her to go out sometimes, just so I’d have the remote control to myself. Now I’d give anything to have her back, giving me shit because I refuse to watchThe X Factor.’
My heart contracts at his sudden look of devastation, but, before I can say anything, he rearranges his face. ‘You won’t want to watchThe X Factor, will you?’
‘No,’ I say, swallowing. ‘It’s not on at the moment, anyway.’
Later that afternoon, he knocks on the office door. ‘When was the last time you sawOctopussy?’ he asks.
‘Ooh.’ I lean back in my seat, thinking. ‘At least seven years, I reckon. Why?’
‘It’s on tonight. I’m making a curry. How about it?’
I smile at him. ‘Yeah?’
‘Go on,’ he says.
I don’t take any more persuading.
Chapter 16
‘We’re not getting out of it,’ Charlie says later that week. It’s Thursday afternoon and he’s just got off the phone to Adam. ‘He wants a night out.’
‘I can’t. I’m in Ireland this weekend, remember?’
‘You’re leaving Saturday morning, though, right?’
I nod.
‘He’s talking about tomorrow night. Mum can’t babysit on Saturdays – it’s the busiest day at the campsite. She’s coming here at six. Up for it?’
‘God, yes. Wow,’ I muse. ‘An actual night out with proper drinking and everything. Are you sure you guys don’t mind me gatecrashing?’
‘Of course not. Just watch out for my brother. He’ll probably make a move on you before the evening’s out.’
‘He’ll get a slap around the face if he does,’ I say indignantly.
‘I would giveanythingto see that.Anything.’
Pat arrives half an hour earlier than promised on Friday night.
‘Well now, that’s a jolly sight,’ she says warmly, coming into the kitchen.
I’m sitting at the table with April, feeding her chicken and veg. She can use a spoon, but it takes her forever to eat and Charlie wanted her sorted quickly. I took his place when he went to let his mother in.
Pat comes over to give her granddaughter a kiss on the top of her head and then puts her hand on my shoulder in greeting. April has been bopping along to the music blaring out of Charlie’s new radio. I’ve plugged in my iPod because we couldn’t find anything we wanted to listen to.
‘Is this Johnny Cash?’ Pat asks, raising her eyebrows when ‘One Piece at a Time’ comes on.
‘Yep,’ I reply, spooning finely chopped chicken into April’s willing mouth. I’ve obviously developed an immunity to the mush, because it no longer makes me want to throw up. Small steps.
