Page 48 of Love and Other Paradoxes

“I guess not.” She looked at him sideways: a low, lingering glance, as if she was trying to memorise him.

He felt a wave building inside him, powerful as the sea, deep with unknown currents. He let it carry him to his feet. “Come on. If we don’t get back soon, Mum’s going to call the coastguard.”

They slopped in, shedding their dripping waterproofs in thehall. Up in his room, he peeled off his wet jeans and boxers and groped in the drawer for his pyjamas.

The door of his room opened. Before he could cover himself, he heard Esi scream. “Oh my God! Sorry!”

He pulled on his pyjamas, swearing. She was gone, and the door was firmly closed. He laughed in delayed, breathless panic, waited until he had stopped shaking, and went to knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said in a high, strange voice.

She was sitting on the bed, wearing Kirsty’s skeleton pyjamas and a faded peach silk headwrap. Her face was glowing, and she was having trouble meeting his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. I’m decent now. What—uh, what did you want?”

She looked down, fiddling with the blanket. “I wanted to say thank you. You didn’t have to invite me here. I don’t know if it was a good idea to come. Maybe it wasn’t. But—I had fun.” A wild laugh burst out. “Also, now I’ve seen Joseph Greene naked.”

He puffed out his chest. “And nothing will ever be the same.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She smiled wickedly. “Like you said. What happens in Scotland stays in Scotland, right?”

He didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. He lay in bed, acutely aware of her just across the landing, thinking about the few steps between her room and his.

He rolled over, groaning into his pillow. It was never going to happen. With an effort, he turned his thoughts to Diana. He imagined her in London, frozen in place at the door of her house, as if her life were on pause until he arrived. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of Esi writing her name on his hand, over and over, in endless spiky lines.

The next evening, they stood outside the door of a snow-white town house in Chelsea. Joe was trying to look casual, which was difficult when wearing full Highland dress. Esi was radiant in a white gown she had found in a St Andrews charity shop that looked distractingly like a nightie.

“You look really ving,” he said gallantly.

She looked like she was going to explode. “Please don’t ever try and use that word again.”

He grinned, enjoying her discomfort. “This party’s going to be deev. Can’t wait to get rashed.”

She tugged at the hem of her dress, eyeing the grand houses that lined the street. “This is a bad idea. I’m not supposed to be here. On multiple levels.”

He turned to her. “Hey. If you want to go. Anytime. You know what to say.”

She met his eyes. “Threshold,” she said, as the door was opened by a tall, pale man with fashionably shaggy hair.

He stared at each of them in turn. “I have no idea who you are, which means you’re Diana’s problem. DI!” he bellowed over his shoulder. “Your Scottish stripper’s here!”

“Um—we brought—” Esi held out the wine.

He looked at the label with barely concealed disdain. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.” He took the bottle and turned smartly away, shoes clicking on the marble floor.

Joe hardly had time to process that he had just met Crispin when Diana swept into the doorway dressed in blue, looking like the goddess of twilight. He had forgotten the presence she had, a palpable aura that seemed to pull everything in the world towards her. Now, faced with her, he was literally breathless.

Esi was staring at him in alarm.Say something.

“Uh. Hi,” he said suavely. “I—Joseph Greene? The, uh—the poetry—”

Diana shot Esi a look, as if to say,What are we going to do with him?“Yes, I know who you are, Joseph.” She took in his outfit with unmistakable appreciation. Her attention shifted to Esi; her face flickered, a moment of confusion, then she held out her hand. “Diana. Lovely to meet you.”

In the future, Esi must have seen the face before her on screens and billboards, lit up larger than life. He’d wondered if she would be starstruck. But she took Diana’s hand calmly, head high, almost in challenge. “Esi.”

He felt them quaking, the three of them, on some faultline. Then a dog rushed out of nowhere and shoved its nose under his kilt.

Diana laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Chamberlain has a tendency to get—amorous.” She grabbed the dog by the collar and yanked him backwards. “Come and find me later,” she called to Joe as she left. “We should talk.”

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