‘Not sure you would,’ he answers, his voice low.
‘I wasn’t that drunk!’
‘There are lots of kinds of drunk, sweetheart.’ And I shiver as he bends, brushing his lips against my ear. ‘And you were definitely fuck drunk at one or two points last night. Also, champagne makes you giggly.’
Funnily enough, his words are like cold water on my libido. I push him away. ‘That isn’t something we used—I’d know.’
But Archer already has his wallet out and is handing over his credit card.
‘I’ll explain on the way home.’ He signs the slip with a flourish, taking the itemised bill from the clerk’s hand which has been folded into a heavy stock envelope. ‘Promise.’ His hand returns to my shoulders, pulling me close.
‘Well, you’d better because that was the most embarrassing...’ In the commotion, I’d forgotten Barney who views the arms that Archer has around my arm with just a tiny hint of recrimination in his hazel gaze. ‘Oh, Barney, you waited.’ I find myself making a weird sort of magician’s reveal.Ta-daa!
‘I did say I would.’ Now he looks like a dog that’s been kicked. And I feel like I’m the person who kicked him as I paint on a smile and begin with the (awkward) introductions.
‘Archer, this is Barney. Barney and I grew up living next door to each other. He’s a doctor and works in Somalia with MSF. Barney, this is Archer. We work together.’ I look up into the face of Archer who stares back a little mutinously.
‘Yeah. Weworkwelltogether.’ Our bodies already flush, Archer’s grip tightens across my shoulders, silently reminding me of all the ways we do work well.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Barney sticks out his hand, ever the statesman.Even when he was an eight-year-old.
‘Same,’ Archer responds without conviction.
‘There was some trouble, I gather?’ Barney asks next, referring to the check-out desk.
‘Oh.’ My head swings that way briefly. ‘Nothing too bad. Right, Archer?’
‘Nothing bad at all. I’ll prove it to you later, if you like.’
My heart does the two-step again. Less painfully this time. Also, it appears to have relocated to my knickers.
‘So, you knew Heather when she was a girl?’
‘Yes. For a long time. The longest.’
‘But you guys haven’t kept in touch?’
‘It’s hard to keep in contact with anyone when you’re based in the middle of nowhere. But we’re catching up now, H, right?’
‘H?’ Archer peers down at me, the slight hitch in one of his brows.
‘Yes. It’s one of the more pleasant nicknames my brothers came up with.’
‘Oh.’ So much meaning in that little sound. ‘Barney here is a friend of your brothers?’
‘Yes, I suppose.’ He’s not jealous, is he? No. This is Archer, man of the ladies, by his own admission. So why does it look like he’s contemplating peeing up my leg? Could it be there’s an ascribed period between having sex with one man and getting within two feet of another? Or is there some kind of after-sex pheromone I’m throwing out?
‘Actually,’ Barney begins, his gaze dipping diffidently to the phone he now holds in his hand. ‘I’ve just spoken to Leif. And Sorrel. And your mum. Almost the whole family! And actually, I’ve been invited to Sunday lunch.’
‘Where? At Mum’s?’ I’d had no plans to go today. A long soak in the bath, flannel pyjamas, and an afternoon of old films was in order, as far as I was concerned.
Or maybe an afternoon play of the highlights reel.
‘Yes. They’ll both be at your parents’ this afternoon. As I was driving back to London soon, I told them I’d bring you along, too. Should I call back and ask them to set a place for one more?’
19
Heather
