Page 67 of On Circus Lane

“Who?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t even try it, Tom.”

“He is nice.” I pause and then can’t help adding, “And very clever and funny, too.”

She nods and we walk in silence for a few seconds. “I knew you’d like him when I met him.”

“Did you?” I say, startled. “I wouldn’t have put us together at all.”

“Really? I think you go together like peas and salad cream.”

“What a beautiful and evocative comparison. Have you ever considered a writing career?” She snorts, and I nudge her. “Why do we go together, then?”

“Because you have always fancied clever or capable people.”

“We’re very different.” I know I’m opening myself up to ridicule, but I equally know that while Sal will take the piss out of me in almost any circumstance, this won’t be one of them. I’m proved right when her next smile is gentle.

“I must admit I think there’s probably only a small percentage of the population that could match his brains.”

“I know,” I say a little too gloomily. “Ouch! You pinched me.”

“And I shall do it again and again if you keep talking crap like that. Stop doing yourself down, Tom. He may be scarily bright, but you’re more emotionally astute. You also have an almost pathological need to look after people.”

“I do not. You make me sound like Mother Teresa.”

“You do. We’ve had more lame ducks staying the holidays with us over the years than a farmyard. You’re loyal, compassionate, and you make people feel good. We just all wanted you to find someone who’d match your warmth.”

“Bet you never thought you’d say that.”

“I must admit that wasn’t in my top ten of things I’d like to say to you, but it had to be said, and now we’ll never mention it again.”

Jack comes up next to us. “What are you two talking about?”

“Sal was just telling me how wonderful I am.”

She rolls her eyes. “We were talking about Tom and Bee.”

I nudge her. “Keep your voice down, for god’s sake.” I look around. “Where’s Steven?”

“Gone back to the apartment. So, you and Bee?”

“There is no me and Bee.” I stop when they both blow raspberries. “What?”

Jack shrugs. “I was just thinking that you might have calluses on your fingers from all the typing you’ve done on Google this week.”

My sister starts to laugh, and I grimace. “Shut up.”

Jack smiles. “Well, I think it’s nice.”

“You do?” I stare at the man who is my best friend and has been since I met him at primary school. He’s always been the quietest in the group, but he’s the glue that holds us all together, and we orbit him like he’s a particularly gentle sun. There is no one whose opinion matters as much to me as Jack’s.

He nods. “You need someone like Bee to keep you on your toes, Tom. You’ve always had it so easy with men and women.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is,” my sister interjects. “Casanova had worse sexual luck than you.”

“Exactly,” Jack says. “You need someone for whom you have to put in some work. Anything worth having and keeping is worth working for.”

---