‘Yes. But I’ll be back again in a few weeks for a little bit longer.’
‘Cool.’
Another hotel employee joins the desk and things start to move quicker, though Barney makes no move to return to his room or head for breakfast or whatever his plans were before he happened to stumble upon me. And we continue to chat, just like the old friends we are, though as we do, I keep one eye on the door, wondering where the hell Archer could be. It’s still raining heavily, but that’s no reason to fret. So why am I fretting, again?
‘Does your mum still cook those huge Sunday roasts?’
‘Sorry, what? Oh, yes. Three o’clock Sunday. Like clockwork.’
‘The image of you all around that table brings back such fond memories. Well, most of you would be seated, though invariably, one of your little sisters seemed to choose three o’clock to throw a tantrum, and your youngest brother preferred to sit under the table. And there was usually a baby in a highchair squishing peas and mashed potatoes through pudgy fingers and throwing it against walls. And you’d be so serene, sitting with your back to the fireplace, napkin dropped daintily to your lap, and your nose in a book as though pandemonium wasn’t breaking out all around you.’
‘It’s called selective deafness. And it still comes in handy.’ Usually when I’m at work.’
He sets off laughing, a great bellyful of bass chortling. ‘Goodness, I envied you all that.’
‘I don’t know why you’ve be envious. It was madness. Actually, it still is. There’s usually someone throwing a wobbler because they’ve been put on dish washing duties when they did them last week. And no one throws mash potato these days, though Primrose did throw a can of beer off Daniel’s head once.’
‘Really?’ He seems really tickled by the prospect.
‘He deserved it.’
‘And you all still sit down together for Sunday lunch?’
‘Not all of us all of the time. More like some of us some of the time. Lives.’ I shrug my shoulder, hitching my purse higher at the same time. ‘Jobs. Sunday hangovers. You know how it goes.’
‘Not really. Only child and all that,’ he answers, pushing his hands into his pockets. It’s weird how I remember all of these little quirks. The way he stares bashfully from under the mop of his hair and how he never seems to be able to keep still even when he’s standing in one spot. ‘Why do you think I spent so much time at your house?’
‘And here I thought it was my scintillating company.’
And then the weirdest thing happens; Barney’s face turns red. Yes, with blushing! The exact same way that mine does, but him instead of me! I feel sort of tickled. Chuffed! Is this how Archer feels when I go pink when he teases? No, I don’t suppose it is. My joy is in solidarity, not in making fun of someone. Also, Barney’s red face doesn’t make me think of sex, and Barney’s red face especially does not make me think of Barney having sex. Except it does now—now that I’ve opened the floodgates of my ridiculous mind. It’s not a good thought, especially as that tell-tale sting begins in my cheeks.
‘I always did have a soft spot for you. Leif used to tease me about it.’
Wait, what? ‘That’s so sweet.’
‘In fact—’
‘Can I help you?’ My attention is drawn by the liveried desk clerk and his bland but professional smile.
‘Ah, my turn.’ I shoot Barney a small smile of my own as he instinctively steps back.
‘Of course. I’ll just wait over here.’
‘Just checking out. Room 312.’ I turn my attention back to the clerk, sliding the key over the dark wood desk towards him.
‘Should I charge the extras to the card on hold, or would you like to check an itemised list first?’
‘Could I see the print, please?’
It’s duly printed and handed to me, my eyes scanning the long list as my heart does a painful little two-step in my chest cavity. I knew it was going to be expensive. I just didn’t think it would bethiskind of expensive as my eyes run down the list.
1 Moet & Chandon Piccolo.
Mine. And I had cause to celebrate. But, bloody hell. You can get a full bottle of the stuff for that price—probably vintage.
1 ½ bottle of French Chablis.
We’d needed wine for our impromptu bed-based cheese and wine party.
