‘Always have. Funny, isn’t it, when you turn eighteen people say, “Old enough to drink, old enough to vote.” I’ve been drinking since I was fifteen.’
‘So have I,’ I reply. ‘I mean, a sip of wine with dinner or whatever.’
‘I was doing that at thirteen,’ Ben reveals. ‘Proper drinking pints from fifteen.’
‘What?’ Ollie asks. ‘Pints at fifteen? How? Where?’
‘Here,’ Ben says. ‘At home. Friends’ houses. Parents not always aware, you know. I’m pretty hardened to it now,’ he laughs. ‘Takes quite a lot to get me drunk. That’s the only downside.’
‘You’re an expensive date then,’ Liv says, laughing, sort of missing the point, I think. ‘I’m a cheap date. Get drunk way too fast.’
‘Ben,’ I admonish, ‘that’s kind of crazy.’
‘You do drink quite a lot,’ Ollie says, not at all in his usual diplomatic style. He leans forward, narrows his eyes. ‘How muchdoyou drink?’
‘Want it in units, Doc?’ Ben asks, attempting a laugh, but it’s hollow. It’s his turn to shift in his seat, and he scratches at his hand. Something he was so proud of has been shot down by two of us. Liv isn’t quite there yet, ironically because I suspect she’s a bit drunk, slow on the uptake.
‘You drink every day,’ I point out thoughtfully. I had noticed this, but up until now I wasn’treallypaying close enough attention.
‘Yeah?’ Ben says, defending his choice. ‘Beers in the flat, or after a lecture in the union bar with you.’
‘Or both,’ Liv comments chirpily. ‘Wine too. I’ve noticed those Cabernet Sauvignon bottles in the recycling.’
‘I don’t drink a whole bottle by myself. I share it around. And … some of them are yours,’ Ben says, somewhat desperately.
‘I don’t drink red,’ Liv replies simply.
Ollie looks concerned. ‘Ben, you drink a few beersanda few glasses of red wine every single day?’
‘I’m a student,’ he says, his voice rising defensively. ‘Isn’t it in our DNA to drink for three solid years?’
‘According to you, you’vealreadybeen drinking for three solid years,’ Ollie fires back.
‘So?’ Ben asks, reaching for his pint and then, thinking better of it, he withdraws his hand. ‘You’re starting to piss me off.’
We all go silent. I’m watching Ben and so is Ollie. Liv’s holding her glass in front of her body as if it’s a shield. She’s studying it intently.
Ben gets up silently and suddenly, his chair toppling back before he catches it quickly, rights it and walks away in the direction of the loos.
I don’t think anyone knows quite what to say.Idon’t know what to say. Ben isn’t my boyfriend. But I thought we were heading there. And I think I’m OK with that. I think I want it. And he does too. He’s been vocal about that. We’ve been doing this strange dance for a couple of months, so we’re definitelysomething.And it doesn’t look as if it’s stopping anytime soon – nor do I want it to.
Should I do something about this? What can I do? I’mnot his mum. And is it a problem? Does Ben have a problem? With alcohol? At age eighteen? It’s only wine and beer. That’s OK, right? It’s not like he’s necking a bottle of spirits every night. Either way, it’s been flagged, so I need to keep an eye on it, I guess. And if Ben needs help, wants help … then I’m here.
I look at Ollie. His brow is furrowed and he glances back at me with the same helpless expression I think I’m displaying. It’s as if we’re having a wordless conversation.
Liv looks between the two of us and leans forward, whispering, ‘I think it would have been safer to talk about politics.’
CHAPTER TEN
We’re in Ben’s pool house, a fabulous floor-to-ceiling windowed complex in his ‘grounds’. It’s set apart from the main house and feels like a hotel spa. We slept in late, rose late, breakfasted late, and Chrissie acted like a short-order cook, volunteering to keep us supplied with ground coffee, freshly squeezed juice, eggs, bacon and fluffy white toast from the sourdough bakery. Now we’re in the heated pool, or clutching Mimosas and lazing around on sun-loungers under the glare of the low December sun. I’m glad we’re indoors and not out. The sun is already starting to move around. The trees outside are bare of leaves, twigs thin. The garden looks as if it’s slumbering, only evergreens showing signs of life. I wonder what it will look like in the summer. Gorgeous, I imagine. I wonder if Ben and I will still be a thing in the summer – if I’ll ever come back here again. I wonder why I’m thinking this, pondering it all ending before it’s even got started?
I sip my second Mimosa, and Liv and I compare the latest celebrity interviews and royal news. Liv’s flicking through the Sunday supplements that David left out, saying he didn’t mind if they got covered in pool water, now he was done with them. Liv’s on her third Mimosa although she’s not a hugefan of the orange juice, so hers have been mostly champagne. She admits she could do with a nap.
I decide I need to get in the water, swim off some of the idleness of the morning. Ben and Ollie are lazing around in the shallow end, talking about Formula One. The angst of the previous night has been forgotten. We came home, walking in couples down the lane from the pub back to Ben’s house. The banter resurfaced again slowly, with Liv trying to guess which of us votes Labour. She automatically assumes me, because ‘ofsomany glaringly obvious reasons’. I was too tired to delve into that, but I was grateful she’d started a different conversation. It was needed.
We said goodnight, grabbed glasses of water and went our separate ways in the quiet house, where the only sound was the grandfather clock in the hall. Ollie and Liv went to their room, and Ben said goodnight to me and went straight to his, leaving me standing in the hallway for a few moments. I went to bed thinking he might come to my room, at least try to talk to me about what we’d discussed in the pub. Or try to kiss me. But he didn’t and I eventually fell asleep at about two o’clock in the morning.
I swim up to him and Ollie now and I catch Ollie’s gaze land on me as I swim. I’m in a navy one-piece from Topshop that is cut high in the leg, making my legs look even longer; it’s high-necked and sporty. Liv’s in a little white bikini, looking every inch a petite modern-day Bond girl as she stretches out on a lounger. We bought our swimsuits together, in preparation for this weekend. Ollie’s gaze lifts from me to Liv and he gives me an acknowledging nod as he swims off, leavingBen and me alone near the deep-blue mosaic steps in the sloping shallow end.
