‘Yes, I’ll come.’
‘Wonderful.’ He snakes an arm round the back of Big Steve’s head. ‘Right, sweetie, it’s time to lock up. I want to go home and binge watch Orange is the New Black.’
‘I’m with you,’ Big Steve agrees.
A door bangs at the rear of the gallery. There’s a clattering of heels on wood. Lucy appears, clutching our coats.
‘I’ve had a shit day,’ she announces. ‘Where did you two disappear off to?’
‘Shopping.’ Little Steve examines his fingernails. ‘We found a camper van.’
‘Well, thanks a lot,’ Lucy growls. ‘Two fucking hours with Shih Tzu Man … on my own. Two hours of halitosis.’
The Steves chortle in unison.
‘Yeah, very funny. He’s spent another six grand, by the way.’
‘Excellent,’ Little Steve chuckles.
‘Excellent? His dog ran riot and shat on the floor, and then … then, he only fucking asked me out.’
‘I hope you said yes,’ Little Steve counters, mustering all the seriousness he can. ‘He’s very well-heeled.’
‘Piss off,’ Lucy snarls. ‘If he’s that well-heeled, why doesn’t he have his breath sorted out? I’ve had enough.’ She points at me. ‘And don’t think you’re forgiven. We’re going out on the lash and I’m only taking you because there’s no one else.’
Oh God, no. An evening of heavy drinking is the last thing I need. It’s bound to end in another argument, a handful of badly-judged, drunken admissions, and then, quite inevitably, the obligatory tears.
‘You’ve got work tomorrow,’ I remind her.
‘What do I care?’ She hurls my coat at me.
‘You’re cooking risotto.’
‘Fuck the risotto. Do you really want your teeth cemented together? Coat. Drink. Now.’
Without any further ado, I stand and shrug on the coat. I’ve had just enough time to grab my handbag when I’m yanked sideways and dragged into the streets of Soho.
‘Hang on a minute,’ I moan, grabbing hold of the railings to anchor myself. ‘Let me sort myself out.’
She pauses, lets go of my arm, moves back a little and proceeds to shuffle impatiently from one foot to the other while I button up my coat and look at the darkened sky. It makes me think of the darkness hanging over my life. Boyd could be anywhere. Anxiously, I check over my shoulder, reminding myself of Dan’s promise. I’m being protected every single minute of every day. I just wish it were more obvious.
‘I don’t really fancy a drink,’ I say at last, watching as Lucy’s features crumple in disgust.
‘You’re no fun any more.’ She edges to one side, allowing a group of men to pass by. While I ignore them, she eyes them up, obviously deciding they’re not worth the bother. ‘You’re getting all sensible.’
And maybe I am. A few months ago, I would have gladly joined Lucy on a binge, drinking my own body weight in wine, and flirting with anything possessing a heartbeat. But now, I’d love nothing more than to cuddle up in Dan’s arms, watch a film together, and maybe indulge in a little small talk. When he’s back in my life and I’m officially part of a couple, I’ll have a ready-made excuse to avoid the bars. And with Clive back in her life, maybe Lucy might calm down a little too. But for now, with no excuse, I need to come up with something, and quickly too.
‘How about a little shopping?’ I suggest, stunned by my own words. Jesus, I must be desperate to say that, especially at this time of year.
‘Shopping?’ Lucy’s mouth falls open. Evidently she’s as surprised as me.
‘Shopping,’ I hit back.
‘But it’s nearly Christmas. The shops are heaving.’
‘I know that. How about Liberty?’ I opt for the only shop I can really stomach. At least it’s quirky and different and old. I might be sufficiently distracted by its eccentricity to avoid a full-on meltdown. ‘I need to get a few bits for the family.’
‘Bits?’ Lucy snorts. ‘From Liberty? Exactly how much money have you got?’
‘Plenty.’
She puckers her lips. If I’m going to get anywhere, I need to knock her out of her foul temper. Another apology might do it.
‘Look, Luce … I’m sorry about New York. I really am.’
‘You dumped me.’
‘And I’m ashamed of myself. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that. I shouldn’t have done it. I just got carried away.’
‘Bang out of order.’
Oh, I’ve had enough. I’m in the mood to give it to her straight.
‘Gordon said you’d have a chaperon, and I thought you’d have a blast. I texted to see if you were alright.’
‘You gave up pretty quickly.’
‘Whatever. You didn’t reply. Not once. I thought you were enjoying yourself. Anyway, it’s done now. Forgive me. Please. I can’t go on like this. You’re my best friend.’
‘Your only friend,’ she corrects me.
We spend a good thirty seconds exchanging glares before the next idea lands in my brain.
‘Look … I’ve got a lot of money at the minute. He-who-shall-not-be-named left it in my account before we split up.’
That sparks her interest.
‘How much?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Ball park?’
‘Lots.’
She readjusts her handbag.
‘You should give it back,’ she mutters, glancing at a passing couple.
‘No way. Not after what he’s done.’ And now, I’ll dangle the bait. I just bloody hope it does the trick. I’m beginning to freeze. ‘I could always treat you to something in Liberty. A peace offering?’
That does it. Her features soften, lips rise into a begrudging smile, eyes widen and I swear she’s begun to vibrate with excitement. The prospect of shopping, married with a nice, tasty bribe is far too much for her to resist. In an instant, all thoughts of alcohol are banished. With a squeak, she pounces on me, links her arm through mine and urges me to move.
‘What’s
