* * *
The final edit of my reply to Ned’s email went like this:
From:[email protected]
Subject: Second Hand Invisibility Cloaks
Hi Ned
While rescuing a child from a burning building I narrowly escaped death when an explosion sent glass flying everywhere. Although a main artery was almost severed, I survived to tell the tale. However a medicinal drink is required. I think copious quantities of wine might help. Know any good watering holes? I’ll be the one wearing the bandage.
All the best
Olivia
...which was how I came to be zigzagging my way through Covent Garden, trying to avoid idle tourists ambling through the midday sunshine. Ned had suggested meeting at a pub he knew.
The outside of the pub told me everything I needed to know before I even got in the door. My heart sank, even more so when I stepped inside. It was one of those ‘below average places’, grubby with too many spillages on the carpet, where men outnumbered women five to one and the wine came out of a box above the bar. A long way from my imaginary wine bar.
* * *
‘Thought you were joking about the bandage,’ said Ned, picking my drink up for me but only after he realised I couldn’t manage. Wearing a beige cord jacket and baggy jeans he looked slightly rumpled, as if he hadn’t been up for a very long time.
‘Better than a rolled-upTimesand a pink carnation,’ I said, attempting to be perky. It came out a bit flat. When the painkillers were at full throttle I could forget about my arm. The gaps between paracetamol and Ibuprofen weren’t much fun though as the wound was still raw. It preferred inactivity and plenty of rest. Traipsing across London was not part of the prescription.
‘What happened? You weren’t really leaping into burning buildings and rescuing children, were you? Don’t tell me you’re...’ he looked furtively around the pub, dropping his voice to a whisper, ‘Supergirl?’
I gave him a dim smile, the best I could manage. ‘No, I’m not.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘Some kid was practising his shot-putting technique. If they make vandalism an Olympic sport, he’ll be on the British team. His brick shattered my window and I got glass in my arm.’
‘Nasty,’ said Ned. ‘I thought you said you lived in Earlsfield. Isn’t it civilised round there?’
‘Normally, yes.’ I hesitated very slightly.
Ned picked up on it. He tilted his head to one side. ‘Wild partying upset the neighbours?’
‘No, our parties are very staid.’
‘Shame, I like a good party. So what happened?’ He raised his eyebrows prompting me to go on.
‘I’m not sure. It’s probably just coincidence.’ I took a sip of wine, weighing up whether I should confide in him.
Ned leaned back comfortably in his chair. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’ He looked searchingly at me over the top of his pint before taking a deep swallow.
I met his eyes. They were darker than I’d remembered and the brow of his hair slightly further back. Hopefully he would laugh laddishly at my silly fears and tell me I was being a girl.
‘Remember the speed-date? Sorry, ’course you do.’
He grinned. ‘I’ve drunk out on it quite a few nights. Most of my mates fancy being invisible. You should hear some of the conversations we’ve had...’ he trailed off, smirking. ‘Then again. Possibly not.’
‘I can imagine,’ I said dryly. ‘Do you remember any of the other guys at the speed-date?’
‘Not really, I was looking at you lot.’
I raised an eyebrow and he grinned unrepentantly.
‘The ladies.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I did notice there were quite a few prats in suits. Arsington-Smythe types.’
