She reached out a crooked finger. ‘Jinx, Davy.’
He hooked his little finger over hers. ‘Yeah, jinx. You noticed he’s pining for Gem too then?’
‘Yep,’ Clarrie said. ‘Still loves her, I reckon.’
‘Casting vote, Si?’
‘Well, yeah, obviously,’ Si said. ‘Arse over tit, as ever. Never stopped really, did he?’
6
‘I saw Gem again last week,’ Clarrie said a little later after Dave had made a trip to the bar for another round of filthily named beers. This one was called Virgin’s Ruin, which he delivered to her with a wink and a grin. ‘Day after the quiz. She stayed over for a film night and we got hammered.’
‘Yeah?’ Dave looked suddenly interested. ‘You’ve only got the one bed at yours, haven’t you?’
Clarrie shot him a look. ‘I took the settee.’
‘Braid each other’s hair? Practise kissing? Talk about boys you fancy who are all me?’
‘We’re twenty-six, David.’
‘Okay, what do twenty-six-year-olds talk about at sleepovers?’
She shrugged. ‘Just the usual. How hard it is to get a bra that fits. The elusive multiple orgasm. Girl-on-girl oral sex techniques involving banana yogurt.’
Dave winced heavily. ‘What did you have to go and say that for?’
‘Gaz has got a shower upstairs. Want me to ask if he’ll run you a cold one?’
Si laughed. ‘Stop teasing him, Clarrie.’
‘He started it.’
‘Still, it’s mean. So do you reckon Sonny would ever get back with Gem?’
‘I dunno,’ she said, shrugging. ‘She did cheat on him. Would you take her back?’
‘Maybe not.’ Si shook his head. ‘Still can’t believe she did it though. She always seemed besotted with him.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Clarrie stared into her pint. ‘Maybe there’s more to it.’
Gemma had never told the lads about her pregnancy scare. Only she and Clarrie knew what had happened that weekend, the weekend she’d realised her period was late and gone completely off the rails.
Dave sighed. ‘Down to them in the end, isn’t it? Come on, let’s talk about something else.’
‘Like what?’ Clarrie asked.
‘You could tell me more about this banana yogurt thing.’
‘Well, I’ve heard Müller Lights are best, lubrication-wise…’
Luckily for Dave’s peace of mind the band started up then, a rock covers five-piece. The three friends sat a while in appreciative silence, listening to the slightly out of tune renderings of everything from Bat Out of Hell to Heartbreak Hotel. A few drinkers meandered up to the front, gyrating themselves an area of dance floor that quickly became no-go for the quieter element.
‘Hey, Clar. You free this weekend?’ Si asked after a bit, raising his voice over the music.
‘Oh, here we go. I thought it’d been at least five minutes since you last asked me out.’
‘God, love, get over yourself,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘I just wondered if you had plans for the Grand Prix.’
Dave nodded. ‘Yeah, I’ve invited myself round to Si’s to watch on his big telly. Thought we might make a party of it, the three of us racing junkies.’
She grimaced. ‘Can’t. Luke’s wedding on Saturday, remember?’
‘Oh yeah. Do you have to go?’
‘It’s a bit late to get out of it now. I RSVPed months ago.’
‘Right.’ Dave seemed distracted suddenly, staring over at the dance floor. ‘Er, hey, think I might just go have a boogie. The Proclaimers, I like this one.’
‘A boogie? What’re you, eighty?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Davy?’
‘That’s me.’ He stood up, still with the same absent look on his face. ‘See you in a bit, yeah?’
‘What’s up with him?’ Clarrie asked Si when he’d gone.
‘Dunno, must be a full moon or something,’ Si said, shrugging. ‘You don’t really have to go to this godawful wedding, do you?’
‘Feels like I ought to. Luke’s the only ex I’ve got who doesn’t think I’m a total basket case, it’d be nice to stay on speaking terms.’
Clarrie had had exactly three steady boyfriends since school. Her university boyfriend, Luke, was the only one she’d describe as a healthy relationship, with a nice, clean breakup to finish. After graduation, they’d smiled their goodbyes and headed home to build a life each, as university couples so often do. Perhaps that’s why that one had been so easy. She’d always known where the finish line was.
After him there’d been Olly. Nice lad. Good-looking too: tall, dark curly hair. He’d got on with her mates, liked the things she liked. But he’d told her he loved her after six months, she’d freaked out and that had been the end of that.
Oh yeah, and Ed. That had been her fault too.
It had seemed wonderful at first. He’d been a sweet guy, Ed. Made her candlelit meals, that sort of thing. But then she’d started to notice the way he rubbed his fingernails when he was anxious. The way he always took his shoes off in the house and misused apostrophes on Facebook. His preference for keeping ketchup in the fridge instead of the cupboard.
Nope. Goodbye Ed.
She winced and pushed the graveyard of boyfriends past back into the depths.
‘Want me to come with you?’ Si asked, giving her shoulders a squeeze. ‘I know you hate stuff like that.’
‘No, you watch the racing, I should be able to cope. I’m an adult, for Chrissakes. Anyway, it’s only the reception. Just a few hours of torment and it’ll be over.’
‘York, is it?’
‘Yeah, some swanky hotel.’
‘Well, text if you need me, okay? I can pick you up any time.’
‘Cheers, Si.’ She patted his knee. ‘Appreciate it.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Si muttered suddenly, staring at the makeshift dance floor.
‘What?’
‘Clar, look over there and tell me if you see what I think I’m seeing. My eyes might’ve gone funny.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Clarrie echoed, following his gaze. ‘He only got up five minutes ago.’
Under the dancing disco lights, Dave was tonsil-deep in a short, fair-haired girl wearing a Metallica vest.
‘Come on.’ Si grabbed Clarrie’s hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘This is too good to miss.’
They weaved through the dancers swaying drunkenly to an off-key rendering off Don’t Want to Miss a Thing until they reached Dave. Si tapped one of the hands rubbing up the Metallica fan’s back and their friend made an unpleasant sucking sound as he unplugged himself from her.
‘That was fast work,’ Si said. ‘Well done, Davy.’
‘Cheers. Our eyes met across a crowded pub.’
‘So are you going to introduce us then?’ Clarrie asked, nodding to the girl.
‘Hiya,’ Dave’s new friend said with a bashful smile. ‘Lyndsey. Nice to meet you.’
The look of relief that flashed over Dave’s face suggested exchanging names hadn’t been the first item on the agenda when he and Lyndsey had hooked up.
‘Er, Lyndsey, these are my mates, Si and Clarrie. Girl mate but, you know, not a girlfriend. So, er, no need to worry. I’m all yours.’ He gave a high-pitched laugh then stopped abruptly.
‘Well, your loss,’ Lyndsey said to Clarrie.
Clarrie opened her mouth to make a comment, then quickly closed it again.
‘You two want a drink then?’ Si asked.
Lyndsey leaned over to whisper in Dave’s ear.
‘Shit, really?’ he muttered.
She nodded.
‘No, we’re going back to hers apparently,’ Dave said, blushing furiously. ‘Um… so I guess I’ll see you later, guys. Bye.’
Dave let Lyndsey lead him away, looking dazed. He just managed a thumbs-up for his friends as she yanked him through the door.
‘Blood-y hell,’ Si said, staring after them. ‘What just happened, Clar?’
‘I think… Dave pulled.’
‘Don’t be daft. Dave doesn’t pull.’
‘We are well down the rabbit hole here.’
Si glanced at the band, who’d stopped playing and were downing instruments. ‘Looks like they’re taking a break. Quick, grab us a table before these dancers sit down. I’ll go to the bar.’
‘No, it’s my shout for this one,’ she said. ‘I can just about afford a round now Dave’s gone.’
It took Clarrie fifteen minutes to get served. By the time she eventually got her hands on a couple of pints, she was wishing she’d let Si use his barmaid-melting superpowers after all.
‘Took your time, didn’t you?’ he said when she got back to their table.
‘Barmaid doesn’t want to get in my pants, it turns out.’
‘Good thing Dave’s gone, he’d have his legs crossed for weeks with a visual like that.’ He took a sip of the beer she handed him and stuck his tongue out. ‘Ew. Tastes like cream soda.’
Clarrie laughed. ‘That’s what it is! I knew the smell reminded me of your birthday parties.’
‘Heh. Yeah, I used to love that stuff. Thank God I grew up and discovered beer.’
‘Amen.’ Clarrie sucked on her pint and made a face. ‘Well, maybe not to this one.’ She glanced around the pub. ‘Are your mum and dad gone?’
‘Yeah, I saw them sneak off earlier.’ Si turned to her, breaking into a grin. ‘Hey. Look what’s happened, Clar.’
‘What?’
‘You’re going out with me.’
‘Am not.’
‘No one else here, is there? I’m pretty sure that’s what they call a date.’ Si glanced at the impromptu dance floor, where the band were preparing for the second half. ‘They’ll be off again in a minute. Want to dance?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, come on, I won’t grope your bum or anything.’
‘Can you just stop? I honestly don’t know who’s worse: you with your fake date-pestering or Sonny and Dave with their quiz-winning nutjobbery.’
‘Why do you always think it’s fake?’
‘Because it’s you, mate.’
He turned to face her. ‘Seriously. Why don’t you believe me? I keep telling you, Clar, I mean it.’
‘Oh, please. Asking me out was the next step on from twanging my bra straps. You’ve been doing it off and on since we were eighteen.’
‘Yeah, and it took me a year to get up the nerve. I spent most of sixth form trying to tell you I fancied you. No joke.’
He was smiling, but his expression was serious enough.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Well, you should.’
‘You couldn’t have fancied me at school. I’d have noticed.’
‘I did, you know. You were just too busy getting a lady stiffy for that lad on the rugby team to pay me any attention.’
Clarrie drew herself up. ‘I did not have a lady stiffy. That’s not even a thing.’
‘You still had one though,’ Si said, sipping his beer. ‘Didn’t Sonny tell you about the time I thumped him for telling everyone in the common room he’d shagged you?’
‘What? That little bastard!’ She paused. ‘That wasn’t why he had to take that week off, was it?’
‘Yeah, he had to stay at home while his nose healed. I nearly got suspended for that. Only got off because he told the head he started it.’
‘He said he was on army cadet camp learning to fly Chinooks.’
Si laughed. ‘And you didn’t think there was anything suspect about that?’
‘Well. I was young and innocent in those days.’
‘You’ve never been innocent in your life,’ he said, smiling. ‘So, now do you believe me?’
Clarrie blinked into her beer. Her head was reeling, and she didn’t know if it was the third pint or Si’s unexpected confession that was sending her into a daze.
She summoned a smile. ‘Stop winding me up, eh? Let’s call a truce for once and have a relaxing rest of the night. I’m too tipsy to spar with you now.’
‘On my mother’s life, Clarissa, it’s not a wind-up. I mean it. I want to go out with you.’
‘Because I’m the only girl in town you haven’t managed to charm the pants off yet.’
‘Because you’re Clarrie.’ He smiled. ‘I had you marked down for a keeper the first day of Reception when you let me catch you in Kiss Chase. You remember?’
‘I remember. And I didn’t let you, you rugby-tackled me.’ Clarrie couldn’t help smiling too as she remembered the curly, fair-haired boy who’d hurled himself at her on the school field, kissed her cheek and run away in embarrassment.
‘And I’d do it again too. All’s fair in love and Kiss Chase.’
‘Look, Si. Let’s pretend for five minutes that I’ve completely suspended reality and I believe you,’ she said. ‘Why me? You know it kills me to say it, but you could have anyone. And you have had most of them.’
‘I’m not interested in them the way I am in you.’
‘But why?’ she demanded. ‘Look at me. Really look at me.’ She took his face in both hands and forced his eyes to hers. ‘Some bony fake blonde with her roots showing. And you’re at least a seven.’
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Please. You know I’m a nine.’
‘Yeah, but I’m docking you for being so bloody cocky.’ She released his face. ‘I mean it. I’m nothing special.’
‘You are to me.’
She smiled. ‘Ah, well now you’re being charming at me. That’s cheating.’
‘Go out with me. Go on, I’m being sweet. Girls love that.’
His tone was light, but there was something in his eyes, an earnestness she’d never noticed there in all the years he’d been teasingly trying to coax her into dates.
‘I… no, Si.’ She shook her head. ‘Ask someone else. You always get plenty of takers, don’t you? You’ve had girls throwing themselves at you since Milly Raine showed you her knickers in Mrs Carroll’s reading corner.’
‘Told you, not interested. Anyway, everyone knew Milly Raine had nits.’ He dipped his head to look into her face. ‘Why won’t you? If you can give me one good reason, I promise I’ll never ask you again.’
‘I don’t fancy you.’
‘Bollocks you don’t.’
Clarrie flushed. It was hard to know what was worse: the fact she actually did fancy Si or the fact it was so bloody obvious.
‘All right then. Gem. That a good enough reason for you?’
‘Are you saying you won’t go out with me because you might lose your place on the quiz team? Nice ego boost, thanks.’
‘Yeah, like you need one. Anyway, you know what I mean. Failed relationships are the surest way to ruin good friendships, we’ve seen that first-hand. And I can’t lose you, Si, you’re too important.’
‘What makes you so certain we’d fail?’
‘Because it’s us, isn’t it?’ she said, waving a hand. ‘We’ve hardly got the greatest track records in the world. I’ve screwed up every relationship I’ve ever had, you’ve never even made it past the third date.’ She shook her head. ‘No. Even if I did fancy you – I’m not admitting I do, by the way – we’re better off keeping things as they are than gambling on something that might not work out.’
‘And what if this could be it? You know, it?’ Under the table, he covered her hand with his. ‘What if this was meant to happen and you pushed it away because you were afraid?’
‘That’s… a chance I’m willing to take.’
‘You can’t let fear make your decisions for you, Clarrie,’ he said softly.
She snorted. ‘Fuck off, Yoda.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘Yes, well… so am I.’ She forced a smile. ‘Let’s talk about something else, eh? We’ll put it down to the beer and forget this conversation ever happened. Quiz night next Tuesday.’
‘Yeah. Quiz night.’
Si fell silent, gazing into his beer.
Clarrie nudged him. ‘Not sulking, are you?’
‘I don’t sulk, Clar. I’m not Sonny.’
‘What is it then? You mad at me?’
‘No. Having an idea.’
‘Bloody hell. Don’t give yourself a nosebleed, eh?’
‘Funny.’ He looked up, eyes glittering. ‘Suppose we made a bet on the League?’
‘You what? We’re on the same team. Anyway, I’m skint.’
‘I don’t mean that kind of bet.’ He gave her hand a squeeze.
‘Oh no, Si…’
‘Go on, it’s a great idea. If we win, you go out with me, anywhere I like, one night. How does that sound?’
‘Terrifying. And if we lose?’
‘I’ll never ask you out again.’
She hesitated, looking into his face; trying to work out if he was teasing. ‘You mean it?’
‘Yep. We’ll let fate decide, if you’re too scared to make the decision for yourself.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘If we win I’d have to let you take me out on a date?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And if we lose you’ll never ask me out again?’
‘Lose or draw. It’d have to be an outright win, within the rules of the League.’
‘You’re taking a big risk, aren’t you? We never win.’
Despite Dave and Sonny’s best efforts, it’d been years since the Flower Arrangers had got even the whiff of victory. The closest they’d come had been a second eight years ago, when a combination of luck and an influx of knowledge from their A-Level revision had pushed them up the table.
‘That was before I had anything to play for,’ Si said.
‘And you won’t ask me out while the League’s on?’
‘As long as you promise to play fair. If you know an answer you have to tell us, captain’s honour. If I catch you cheating, bet’s void and I’ll ask you out twice as much.’
She hesitated. ‘Oh… what the hell, we’ll never win. I mean, I’ll sort of miss you asking me out on quiz nights now it’s become a tradition. But it’s for your own good.’
‘Except we are going to win. Here.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shake.’
‘All right.’ She clasped her fingers around his. ‘Game on, Si.’
7
Clarrie was jerked out of a daze by the unfamiliar sound of the bell over the bookshop door.
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