Mal was almost feeling like himself after a pint of Coke had washed away the bleariness from all that cider on the beach. What was it about drinking outdoors that always made alcohol taste so much better, and not seem to be making you drunk until suddenly you were, and it was too late?
That was when he noticed Tash kept darting worried glances at him.
She must have noticed him noticing. “Babe? You okay now?”
Mal forced a grin. “Course I am. Never better. ’Sup?”
She looked away. “I had a call from Dev while you were out.”
Unease knifed him in the gut. “Oi, what’s happened? He all right? Is it Kyle?”
“It’s okay. They’re fine— Well, Dev’s fine. Kyle had a problem with his meds, it was no big. They changed the brand on him and he had a reaction.”
“But he’s okay, yeah?”
“Yeah, but . . . they wanna make sure he’s fine on the new stuff before they come down, so it’s not gonna be Friday night now. Dev reckons maybe the middle of next week.”
It was like . . . like having some arseholes give you a kicking, and then getting shat on by a pigeon while you lay there bleeding. Like totalling your car in a crash, finding out your insurance had lapsed, and then getting a final demand from the finance company. Like he was a pumpkin that’d been hollowed out with one of them blunt plastic scraper things they sold around Halloween so the kiddies wouldn’t cut their fingers off making lanterns. Mal put his head in his hands.
And he knew he was being a wanker, and it wasn’t all about him. But . . . he’d been counting on Dev coming down. He fucking needed his best mate, all right?
“Babe?”
Mal scrubbed his face with his hands and forced a smile as he looked up. “I’m good. Bit disappointed, you know? And it sucks for Kyle,” he added guiltily.
“Yeah. Dev said he ain’t too bad, though. They’re just being safe. You want another Coke?”
“Nah. Cheers. Think I’ll go watch the telly for a bit.”
“Okay. See ya.”
“See ya.”
Mal had thought they’d finished talking about all the difficult stuff, but Tasha cornered him later as he walked out of the bathroom after his shower. “You weren’t the only one looking forward to seeing Dev, you know.”
Mal felt like a complete arsehole. He wrapped a mostly dry arm around her shoulders. “I know you’ve been missing him too. Come on, tell your uncle Mal all about it.”
She sniffed. “It’s Ceri, innit? Going away like that. Just when I thought we was . . .”
“I knew it! I fucking knew it. Hey, congrats, Tash. Welcome to the bi side, where love has twice as many chances to screw you over like a boss.”
Tasha managed a weak smile. “Do I get a membership card?”
“Better than that. Free invisibility cloak and a pack of unicorn stickers.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Does she know you like her?”
Tasha shrugged. “Dunno, do I? I never said nothing. But I thought it was gonna happen. Then she bloody well bogs off out of the country without me.”
“Maybe she needed a bit of space to think about it. I mean . . .” Mal wasn’t sure how to put it tactfully, so he just went for it. “Does she even fancy girls?”
“She never talks about that stuff.”
“What? You’re girls, aintcha? I thought you talked about everything.”
“Yeah, but . . . she don’t go out with people, does she? Not no more.”
Mal grinned, because there had been a bloody big dollop of West Country in those last few words. Then he saw her expression and kicked himself, mentally speaking. This wasn’t the time to tease her about going native. “Well, that’s good, innit? Means you ain’t got to worry about her getting with someone while she’s away.”
“S’pose.”
“And, like, when she’s here, she spends all her time with you, right? Apart from studying and that.”
“S’pose.”
“So you’re sorted, aintcha? Bet she’s missing you as much as you’re missing her.” He gave her a squeeze, which was when the towel round his waist decided to make a break for freedom and fell to the floor.
Tasha squealed and shrieked, “Get away from me, you perv!”
Jago reached the top of the stairs to see her pissing herself laughing and Mal trying to hold on to his dignity with both hands. He had a lot of dignity, all right?
Jago raised an eyebrow and said, “Never mind, my lad. Chances are you’re still growing.” Then he walked past them to his bedroom.
Well, if nothing else, it cheered Tasha up, Mal thought as he made a grab for his towel and legged it to his room.
Jory had never expected to be so grateful for his stopgap job at the museum, but it was a lifeline over the next few days. He threw himself into organising the mermaid exhibition and didn’t think about Mal in the slightest.
The fact that he couldn’t seem to keep himself from looking up hopefully whenever the door opened was just . . . just him hoping for more visitors, that was all.
After work, he went for walks on the beach, with or without Gawen. Or he baked. He’d taken to keeping a tin of biscuits on the front desk at the museum now, and offering them to anyone who came in—well, there were only so many he could give to Kirsty and Gawen, and Bea was no help at all in eating them up.
Bran could buy his own biscuits. Jory couldn’t help thinking half the trouble between him and Mal was down to Bran having flown right off the handle last year over Dev.
Of course, strictly speaking, he should be blaming Bea too. But he couldn’t bring himself to, somehow. She’d been so . . . quiet lately. He wouldn’t go so far as to say she was sad, because he’d never been any good at telling how Bea was feeling, but
