Page 90 of On Circus Lane

“Idon’t know,” I say, aggrieved. “How long is a piece of string?”

“Well, if you get into your eighties, you could see it as a success, but you’ll probably have broken Google by then.” He nudges me. “It’s nice that you want to interest him, but I don’t think you have to try so hard.”

“It’s not like that,” I protest. “I just like seeing him happy.”

“Babe, you do that anyway. You do it with everyone.”

Movement comes from our right, and I turn and smile at Ivy. She drags a stool over and settles down in front of us. “Alright,” I say. “Enjoying the night?”

“It’s wonderful. Isn’t the colour sofunky?”

“Funky,” Jack and I echo dutifully.

I look beyond her to see Bee has vanished and crane my head to see where he’s gone.

“The loo.” Ivy grins. It’s a crooked smile full of so much charm that I smile back. I like her. “He’s gone to the loo.”

“Who?”

She and Jack laugh. “Father Christmas,” she says. “He’ll definitely let you look at his sack.”

I shake my head as the two of them keep laughing like fools.

When she sobers, I ask her the question that’s been on my mind all afternoon. “Why were you so surprised when Bee showed me his Instagram account?”

She shrugs. “Because he doesn’t show it to anyone.”

“Really? But he’s so good at photography.”

She waves a careless hand. “He’s good at almost everything. It would be infuriating if he wasn’t so sweet and almost pathologically oblivious.”

“Almost everything? What isn’t he good at?” Jack asks.

“Ah, people are his nemesis. He’s not good at reading them.” She hesitates. “Some of that is his past, but I can’t say anything.”

I take a sip of my drink. “You don’t need to. He’s told me some stuff.” I set my glass down as she narrows her eyes at me. “What?”

“He told you?”

“About his childhood and uni? Yes.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes are wide and excited. “This isamazing.”

“If you say so.”

“No, you don’t understand. Bee compartmentalises life more than a Tupperware container. He likes his work, his dad, and his men all to be separate and not touching.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” I say sourly, thinking of that man he’d been with when at the beginning of the holiday. Bee had waved him off, his eagerness to be rid of him very obvious.

“Not with you, though.” She leans forward. “You seem to have avoided the compartment walls and got everywhere.” She pauses. “Like … like mould.”

“It's not the best compliment I’ve ever received, but thank you anyway,” I say faintly as Jack laughs.

“You’re very welcome,” she says grandly. She hiccups. “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she advises me. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

My heart starts to hammer. “But we’re going home tomorrow. We don’t exactly move in the same circles there.”

“Oh yes.” Her mouth droops. “That’s sosad.”

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