Page 43 of You Belong With Me

Yeah, it’s the company that’s the problem – Fraser’s mates are a brace of scallywags. You know how ginger cats are silly? Prepare yourself for the human equivalent of a lot of ‘orange behaviour’.

PS explain later. The short version is, I think they like high society.

So it was that on Friday evening, Edie rolled up in a black Mercedes outside a quietly flashy looking hotel address with logo-ed awnings, downlighters, and a row of wooden box planters delineating premises from pavement.

She pressedsendon her greeting –Here! X– as the driver heaved her no-brand trolley case from the boot.

Inside, there was a scroll-like sweep of gold reception desk, and Edie felt conspicuously unsuited to the Daliesque luxe gorgeousness.

The women behind it gave practised smiles of hospitality welcome, and Edie said: ‘Hi. Uhm, I’m with …’

Erk.Elliot usually used false names for hotels, like he was Bono. She’d not asked him what it was.

Both the women suddenly broke into looks of rapture and familiarity at someone over her shoulder.

Edie turned and saw Elliot, phone clamped to face, mid-conversation. He was pointing at Edie and pointing at himself, and then back down again at their check-in screens.

They nodded and beamed with a newfound degree of acceptance towards Edie, started tapping at buttons. A key with a tasselled fob was pushed across the desk and her luggage case was spirited away.

Elliot was wearing black jeans and a dark-blue t-shirt with sunglasses hooked over the neckline, his usualpeacocky actor boy off-dutyuniform. It was February, but Edie had learned that Rich World was seasonless.

‘… Yeah, I know, but I think we’re in danger of seeing Jesus’s face in the tea leaves, if you know what I mean?’ Elliot was saying. ‘I don’t want to become scared of my shadow … yep. I mean, I take your point – you’re the expert. It simply didn’t register as alarming to me. You keep an eye on it. I will. Thanks. OK.’ He made the internationally understood circling-finger gesture forI have to finish this, sorryto Edie, who nodded.

Edie had grown accustomed to the never-ending phone call, as if Elliot was a stocks and bonds trader in the yuppie 1980s. She’d learned not to take it personally. She’d taken it personally in their very first encounter and got it out of the way.

Once done, he’d put his phone on silent, andmissed callnotifications and messages would rain like confetti across the lock screen. It would vibrate and push itself around the table like a resentful wasp.

While the verbal admin continued, he pulled her to his side and kissed the top of her head.

She slid her arms round his middle and linked her hands. As she did so, Edie noticed a row of people sat on a chaise longue nearby observing them both with wide eyes, as if the sofa was a Jeep that had pulled alongside a pride of lions on a safari. Phones were discreetly yet threateningly weighed in several palms. She could hear their thoughts.

Definitely NOT his sister or a P.A. Is it too close-range-obvious to get a picture? As this angle, I could pretend to be checking my texts?

She turned her face away from them.

Edie had raised Lillian’s suggestion of a hard launch of their coupledom via staged paparazzi photos to a huge ‘YUCK’ from Elliot.

(‘She knows my implacable aversion to anything like that, and I don’t appreciate her using my girlfriend to try to get round it,’ Elliot had said. Edie had adolescent-thrilled to the casual use of the G-word. His name in glitter ink on her pencil case.)

‘Who was that?’ she said, as Elliot rang off.

‘Lillian,’ Elliot said, beaming at her. ‘It’s so good—’

‘There she is! Edie Thompson!’ came a possibly alcohol-amplified voice from across the lobby. ‘Soon to be Edie Owen! Or Owen-Thompson? Oh my God, I’ve got your Brangelina name. EDIOT. Hahahaha.’

Elliot closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

They were assailed by the hulking form of Fraser Owen, clad in a sky-blue cord suit, salmon-pink shirt, and white trilby hat, skidding towards Edie. He put his arms around her, swung her around in a bear hug, then took her hand and twirled her on the spot.

Fraser’s Monster Energydrink behaviour was sometimes awful-adjacent, but Fraser was impossible to dislike. Boisterous and silly, but kind. Undeniable shades of witless tomfoolery, no malice. The fact the two brothers were so different, Edie had observed, somehow made them even closer.

Fraser turned to address the sofa audience, who were now sitting very upright, in front row seats at the Actual Gossip show.

‘Just kidding, guys. They’re not engaged. Do NOT tweet theSunnews desk – thanks for your co-operation.’

‘Jesus Christ our redeemer, Fraz,’ Elliot muttered, while Edie laughed helplessly in surprise-horror.

‘We’re all up on the roof by the pool – come say hi!’

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