‘Same here,’ said Sam. ‘I just finished the third draft of my latest book, so we’re treating ourselves to lunch at The Crooked Cauldron.’
‘That’s a new one to me.’ Kieran had eaten at his fair share of Edinburgh restaurants, but not that one.
‘It’s really nice,’ added Jinnie. ‘A favourite of Jo and Harvey’s. In fact, they got engaged there!’
‘Lovely,’ said Kieran, not remotely interested in where Jo and Harvey had got engaged. Despite Jinnie and Sam’s friendliness, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasweird.They had given off a peculiar vibe while huddled in the pub with Wilma and the others.
‘Ooh, the choo-choo is coming!’ Jinnie went into full mum mode, whisking Dahlia out of her buggy and flapping her little hand at the incoming train.
‘Right. Well, congratulations on finishing the book, Sam.’
Sam sighed heavily. ‘If only. I might get it right by the tenth draft if I’m lucky.’
‘Sounds about as painful as my app. Which I won’t bore you with. Enjoy your lunch.’
Kieran deliberately picked another carriage. That was more difficult than it sounded, as there were only two. Rude? He didn’t care. He didn’t want to analyse what, if anything, was going on.
At Waverley station, he deliberately sprinted up the stairs to Princes Street. With a baby and buggy, Jinnie and Sam would take longer to disembark.
Kieran headed to George Street, where high-end shops peddled their wares. Well-known brands, but did they tick the sustainability box? And did the public give a shit? ClosetAura could be a compass: cut through the sludge, show people what to buy, what to skip, and why.
‘I need that outfit.’ A woman halted in front of him so abruptly that Kieran slammed into her back.Damn.Stammering an apology, he moved on.
The next shop brought him up short. Fitness, Witness.He gazed at a window full of stretchy, impossibly sleek and hideously pricey gym and yoga wear. The mannequins had inflated breasts, waists that suggested they lacked an internal organ or two, and legs that went on forever.
‘Yep,’ Kieran said. ‘Completely realistic.’
‘Kieran.’
Kieran dragged himself away from the window display. That voice. Husky, with an undertone of ‘shall we have sex now, or later?’
‘Lisa.’
Looking drop-dead gorgeous, as always. Kieran’s nether regions did an involuntary memory surge. He thanked the gods of small mercies for wearing baggy shorts.
‘Well, this is a surprise.’ Lisa said and pasted on a smile. Because she couldn’t genuinely be pleased to see him, could she?
‘It is. I was considering some skintight Lycra shorts, but you always said I looked like I was smuggling walnuts in my underwear.’
Lisa emitted a tinny laugh. ‘I never said that. Oh, shit, did I really say that?’
‘Yes, you did.’ Kieran adopted a wounded expression. Lisa pouted, and Kieran noticed her lips seemed bigger than before. As did her breasts. Surely health-obsessed Lisa, who balked at taking antibiotics and swore she’d never have plastic surgery, hadn’t gone down that route?
‘You’re staring, Kieran.’ She flicked her glossy ponytail.
‘Am I? Sorry, you just look a little … different.’
‘I’ve lost a few pounds.’
And gained a few elsewhere,he didn’t say.
‘How’s Sven?’ That name had given Kieran nightmares. And dreams in which he’d crushed his yoga-pants-clad balls in a vice, cracking them like nuts. Bigger than walnuts, but…
‘He’s great. Totally great. He’s in Thailand, leading an ashram. Giving people a space to immerse themselves in spiritual practices, personal growth, and self-discovery.’
Lisa sounded as if she was reciting from a brochure. And wasn’t that a glimmer of a tear in her eye?
‘Right up his street. OK, I think I’ll head off. No need for Lycra, just strong coffee and a bite to eat.’
