‘I really want another beer,’ Adam announces at nine o’clock.
‘You can’t, you said you’d drive Bridget home,’ Charlie replies resolutely. He’s had one too many himself to get behind the wheel.
‘I can walk,’ I scoff.
‘I don’t want to drivemyselfhome,’ Adam cuts off whatever it was Charlie had opened his mouth to say. ‘Can’t we just crash here?’
‘Youcan. Bridget won’t want to sleep on the sofa.’ Charlie casts me a sidelong glance.
‘Are you kidding? This is the comfiest sofa in the world,’ I reply. ‘I never want to leave.’ I’m tucked up under a fleecy blanket that he dragged out of an upstairs cupboard for me. We’re sharing the larger of the two sofas, but he said I could lie down. He’s right at the other end. I did protest, but he insisted.
‘You can stay if you want,’ Charlie tells me.
‘You’re not worried about leaving us in the same room together?’ Adam chips in cheekily.
Charlie lets out a sharp laugh. ‘Nope, not any more. Bridget is more than capable of fending you off.’
‘I thank you for your faith in me,’ I say to Charlie, mock-sincerely.
‘Awesome.’ Adam stands up. ‘Who wants one?’
I assume he means a drink, so I reply in the affirmative.
‘I’ll probably still walk home,’ I say to Charlie when Adam has left the room, calling out to us to pause the DVD until he gets back. We’re watchingRogue One: A Star Wars Story.Charlie missed it when it came out at the cinema last December.
He was a bit preoccupied at the time.
‘You should stay,’ Charlie says, draping his arm across my ankles. I don’t know why, but this makes me feel squirmy, until he casually squeezes my toes in such a friendly manner that all I want to do is smile at him.
‘Maybe,’ I murmur, staring at the paused TV.
‘What’s he doing?’ Charlie mutters after ages of our waiting. ‘Adam?’ he calls out. He cocks his head to one side, listening. ‘Is he on the phone?’
I lift my ear free of the sofa to check. He definitely sounds like he’s talking to someone.
‘Fuck this.’ Charlie unpauses the movie.
A moment later, Adam returns.
‘We got tired of waiting,’ Charlie says, glancing up at him. The sudden change in Charlie’s expression makes me whip my head around. ‘What is it?’ Charlie asks Adam uneasily as his brother kneels in front of me.
‘That was Michelle,’ Adam tells me gravely, as I push myself up on my palm, wondering what the hell is going on. All of his cheeky humour has vanished from his face.
‘Bridget, Beau died two years ago.’
‘What?’ I ask, even though I heard him perfectly.
He looks pained. ‘It was a drug overdose.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not Beau.’
I sit up properly, folding my legs up underneath myself. I’m vaguely aware of Charlie pausing the film again and staring ahead in a daze.
If I were lying on Beau’s sofa, he’d somehow manage to squeeze into the gap behind me. He’d wrap his arms around me and pull me tight against his torso so that we’d both fit side by side. We could stay there for hours in that position, watching telly. He was so warm and affectionate. I adored him. Ilovedhim. And now he’s gone.
I can’t believe he’s gone.
Despite their attempts to persuade me otherwise, I tell Adam and Charlie that I’m going back to the campsite. I insist on walking – I need the fresh air – but I’m also craving my own space. I’m intensely aware that my sadness might be causing Charlie pain or bringing back memories of his own.
