Page 109 of Last Night

‘You best be pouring me one of those, right the fuck now,’ I say.

I struggle in the door, kick off my filthy shoes, peel away my coat, and hand the heavy shopping bag to Justin.

‘Oh, you darling. Charles and Diana are through there, you’ll see wine bottle and glass in the kitchen on your way. Follow the handbag-sized dog.’

I lean down to pet the bouncing Leonard. The beams of the cottage are so low I have to duck to pass through doorways. In the front room Ed and Hester look up at me, resembling a Boden picture, side by side, in their chunky jumpers and crackling firelight glow.

‘Evening, Eve!’ they singsong, as Leonard resumes his place on a chair nearby. I toast them with my glass. I’m relieved the fight at the wake is long enough ago we can simply pretend it never happened. Ed flashes me a slightly discomfited look, and I smile to assure him things are normal. As normal as they can be.

Justin brings me a plate of stew and mash, and I’m asked for a summary of Edinburgh between mouthfuls.

I keep it brief and positive.

‘How was the brother, did he keep up the Nosferatu levels of affability?’ Ed says.

‘More of a Yes-feratu for me,’ Justin says.

I hadn’t considered how to handle this very obvious line of inquiry. My mind has been on larger matters. Like recalling the way Finlay Hart looked down at me in a darkened hotel room.

‘He was … fine, actually. I ended up quite liking him. I think he was on the defensive when we met him, because he knew we’d have a low opinion of him.’

‘We had a low opinion of him because Susie told us he was a total turboshit. Checkmate.’

‘Who do you think you’re checkmating, me?’ I say to Ed.

‘Him, mainly.’

‘Well, I know him better.’

‘What, on the basis of a few days of going up Arthur’s Seat, you’re saying you know him better than his own sister did?’ Ed scoffs.

‘Maybe, in a way, yes I do,’ I say, watching Ed’s scowl of incredulity deepen.

‘What?!’ he spits.

‘Do you know him better in the sense Susie never slept with him?’ Justin says to me, pressing his hands together in prayer. ‘Did you, in fact, “go up Arthur’s Seat”? Please say you did, and bring me news from the wild erotic frontier. My love life is up on bricks, here.’

‘Sorry to disappoint, but no,’ I say, and avoid looking at Ed, and thus gauging his response or relief. This is a shift. I don’t care if Ed cares? Ed caring has been my lode star for a long time. I test my feelings on this matter again …he’s jealous, don’t you care?Nope, nothing.

‘Hahaha, she wouldn’t tell us if she had, Justin,’ Hester says.

I look over at Hester and she’s twirling a piece of golden hair by her ear, shapely legs crossed in black skinny jeans, her vivid mouth painted with her favourite Mac Lady Danger lipstick. Hester is so damn decorative.

In the sarcastic twitch of her crimson mouth, I can perfectly easily see that Hester hasn’t forgiven me for the spat at Susie’s wake, and instead a different level of enmity has been unlocked.Challenge accepted. In female fights, never trust the wishful interpretations of men.

Ed is frowning, knocking back wine.

‘I would tell you. Why wouldn’t I?’ I say.

‘Because everyone thinks he’s awful,’ Hester shrugs a cable-knitted shoulder, unwinds, and sloshes some more wine into her glass.

‘If I wanted to sleep with him I wouldn’t care if you thought he was awful,’ I say, and as I speak, I can hear that the mood has plummeted from carefree chatter to loaded subtext, flying in every direction.

‘If you say so,’ Hester mutters, plumping the sofa cushions with one hand before rearranging herself against them.

‘Yes I do say so,’ I say. ‘Given I know my decision-making process better than you do.’

‘You got that right,’ Hester mumbles, under her breath.

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