‘It meets all the criteria for a top-notch dream restaurant. Now you have to make it a reality,’ I say.
‘Can you help me think of a name? Perhaps one with a hashtag in the title, to help with the marketing. Something aspirational, or Italian.’
‘#Estrella? Doesn’t that mean a star in Italian?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t aim for a Michelin rating the first year.’ He grins, and I secretly award him five stars for being so delicious. ‘No,estrellais a Spanish word. Want to talk about names over a coffee?’
Back at the main entrance to the site, we settle on a café that looks like a ski bar, with sheepskin rugs slung over the back of the chairs and hot water bottles on demand. A waiter brings menus and offers blankets. Feeling chilly, I order a hot chocolate and pull a sheepskin rug around my shoulders. ‘Where would you go in a zombie apocalypse?’
‘Westfield? You could survive quite a long time in a mall as big as that. You?’
‘I’d follow Eva. She would probably capture and rent out the zombies. Doodle could be our early warning system.’
‘He’d just lick any remaining flesh off their bones. I used to play a drinking game based onThe Walking Dead. We should play it together sometime. You watch a random episode and knock back a shot every time anyone says a name that rhymes or half rhymes with Beryl,’ he says.
‘Daryl obvs.’
‘Carol.’
‘Merle.’ I pronounce it ‘Meryl’, the way people said it in the programme.
‘Carl …’
‘Carl doesn’t rhyme with Beryl.’
‘It does the way they say it. “Caaaaarrrrlllll”. And in the early series Carl is a pivotal and often-named character.’
‘I heard your American accent come through then. Here’s a coincidence for you, my coaching client’s from New York.’
‘I think you’ll find quite a few people live there.’ He smiles. ‘Now shall we turn our attention to getting you a second client?’ He pushes a blanket over my legs when I shiver again, and I snuggle up next to him.
Chapter 12
I spend two full days sorting out my Halloween costume. Dithering between going as Bellatrix or Cruella, I finally decide to dress up as teen icon Carrie. The nightdress I sourced from a charity shop hugs my chest a little too much before floating down to my feet, but no one is going to be looking at my boobs. Yesterday I put the dress in the bath and dumped a load of fake blood on it from a height. And earlier today, I washed my hair in the stuff before smearing it on my face, neck, arms and legs. Finding a plastic prom corsage in a pound shop a while back, I bloodied that too along with a giant set of rosary beads and an old copy of the Stephen King novel. I topped it all off with a prom queen tiara from the internet. The result? A pretty good impression of the main character from the world’s favourite period film.
As we walk to the bar, I inspect the route for triple drains and magically appearing ladders, as well as teenagers with mischief on their minds. We’ve taken the time to settle Doodle in the kitchen with calming music playing in case he’s driven mad by callers. This week is likely to be tricky with firework night also on the cards, but we’ll do our best to shield him from the worst of the whizzes and bangs. I start to wonder if we should have called an Uber? Eva can barely see through the 100-denier mask she’s rammed over her head and I’m not much more mobile in my glittery prom heels.
‘Is the tiara too much?’ I ask Eva, who fails to answer as her mouth is covered by an M&S gusset.
I’m delighted when a black cat runs into our path as I stop to admire the effort my neighbours have made with their decorated windows and spooky front doors. The primary school kids are still on their trick or treating rounds, their mums and dads hovering anxiously. Eva attracts curious glances from passers-by who are wondering why she’s wearing a large silver triangle on her forehead. I wrap my thin cardie around me. I’m chilly and the dried paint is starting to crack and flake, but the discomfort will be worth it.
As we enter the bar, I spot two Dexters, a vampire I assume to be Edward fromTwilightand the clown fromIt.We must be in the running for most original costume or even the people’s choice award? The room is covered in purple cobwebs and lit by fake candles and fairy lights– it’s atmospheric if you don’t inspect the quality of the decorations. I spot Kai at a bank of sofas, wearing a black open-necked shirt and charcoal jeans. We head over and he places a chaste kiss in the centre of the white triangle on Eva’s forehead. I turn away so they don’t notice me giggle. He’s visited a hairdresser since I last saw him, and the short crop highlights his prominent cheekbones. We order cocktails from a roving bartender, and he taps the payment device with his phone as promised.
I do a double take at the colour of his eyes. ‘Are you wearing white contact lenses?’
‘You think I have this eye colour naturally?’
‘Nope, they’re normally red from all the late nights. So, Kai, what have you come as tonight?’
‘A shapeshifter.’
I scoff. ‘What kind? A polar bear?’
When he howls at the moon through the window, zero heads turn– it’s that kind of night.
The drinks arrive and I’m keen to try the green potion bubbling with white froth.
‘Wait!’ Eva’s muffled voice comes from under her tights. ‘We have to chink!’
