Page 14 of On Circus Lane

I look out of the restaurant window at the car park, where Freddy is spinning Tom around while the others laugh. I let myself wish I was out there with them laughing rather than in here where Steven’s on hour four of being critical of people. It’s like listening to someone read theDaily Mail.

His voice stops, and I pin an interested look on my face. He gets up. “I’ll go and get another coffee.”

I nudge Ivy, who seems to have sunk into a coma with her eyes open. “Eh, what?” she mumbles.

“Coffee?” I say.

She gives Steven a weak smile. “That would be lovely.”

“I’ll let you get your own,” he replies.

Ivy makes a sound like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Won’t Tom and Freddy want to be getting going?” I ask him.

He follows my gaze to the group outside. Tom is now saying something and waving his arms around while the others laugh. They all look bright and lively in the cold air. A couple have emerged from Freddy’s car, yawning sleepily. The woman has long red hair and a svelte figure and is wrapped in a black coat that looks expensive. She’s holding hands with a tall, dark-haired man. I presume these must be the broccoli-blocking Theo and Georgina that Tom mentioned earlier. I eye them interestedly. I’m all in favour of drama as long as it doesn’t involve me in any way, so I’m going to keep an eye on them for my holiday entertainment.

“King Tom can stand to wait. I don’t dance to his tune,” Steven says sourly before stalking off to get coffee.

Ivy watches him go and then turns to me expectantly.

“Oh no,” I say. “Whatnow?”

“You must see it, Bee.”

“See what?”

“I don’t think Steven’s very nice.”

“He’s just a little socially awkward with people he doesn’t know.”

“No, that’s you,” she says simply. “You’re sympathetic to him because you can be awkward sometimes. You’re not great with strangers because your brain is usually occupied with work, and you’re fifty percent shy, and fifty percent can’t be bothered. But, Bee, you’re usually kind even at your briskest.”

“You don’t know Steven,” I automatically protest, even though I have a sneaking suspicion she’s right. Everything he says seems to be about making him look good against other people’s inadequacies.

“And you don’t know him either,” she says. “At least not well enough to defend him.”

I open my mouth to argue and then close it because I can’t.

“You see,” she crows. “Steven’s literally been talking about himself for half an hour. He never let either of us speak, and I’m fine with that, but he hasn’t said one nice word about anyone, and that’s horrid. For example, everyone else in the group seems to love Tom.” She gestures toward the window. “So why is Steven so snarky about him?”

I spin my empty coffee cup thoughtfully, watching the action outside. Tom’s smile is wide, and he’s very beautiful. He’s also been trying to engage me in conversation during the drive, and I’ve been rude.

I squirm. “I think I might have made a teeny mistake.”

“Finally.”

I spread my hands. “You would have done the same.”

“Maybe or maybe not. You were drunk last night and made one of your snap judgements.”

“Sometimes they’re right. Look at Stewart.”

“That is youronlysuccess in fifteen years, but you cling onto that, lovely.”

“Thank you.” I bite my lip. “I think Tom might be a nice bloke.”

“I think you’re right. He didn’t have to give us a lift, but he has. He could have been grumpy about the fact that you overslept and kept him waiting this morning, but he wasn’t. He’s been funny and kind so far. He lost his temper last night with Steven—for what seemed to be justifiable reasons—and I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude to you.”

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