3
The moon rises. The temperature outside plummets.
Bee arrives. Lucy meets Tommo for the first time. He’s fascinated with her art collection. When he asks about the history of each piece, she’s delighted to oblige him. Bee holds his hand throughout, beaming like a lottery winner.
Nick shows up an hour later. He brings a tiny wrapped box for Billie. Inside is a set of keys on a dolphin-shaped fob. Outside, a brand-new Vespa scooter stands on the driveway. A giant teddy bear sits astride it.
‘It’s electric,’ he tells her. ‘So once you’ve done your training, you can ride it around guilt-free.’
‘Oh my God, Uncle Nick!’ Billie cries. ‘You can’t … It’s too much!’
‘What else am I going to spend my money on?’ he laughs. ‘Go on. Enjoy the damned thing.’
Billie embraces him. ‘Thank you,’ she says, kissing his cheek.
Lucy stares at the scooter, bemused. Nick’s displays of largesse are nothing new. Still, this is unusual even by his standards. Back inside, she tops up her drink and escapes to the study for five minutes’ respite. By the window she stands in darkness, watching the rising moon, listening to the party begin to hum under its own steam. Behind her the door opens, sound and light spilling in. It closes before she looks round.
‘Busted,’ says a voice.
Lucy hears Nick cross the floor. When she turns, all she sees is his silhouette, and the two bright points of his eyes.
‘Just a quick time-out,’ she tells him. ‘Getting old, that’s the problem.’
‘Not you, Lucy-Lou. All that gym work – you’ll stay young for ever. Look at you in that dress.’
Lucy sips her drink. Ice clinks against her teeth. ‘So, Mr Povey. Who’reyouhiding from?’
Nick grunts. ‘Daniel didn’t tell me he was inviting industry people.’
‘He didn’t?’
‘Like a damned marine engineering convention out there.’
‘And enough single women to form a football team.’
‘None my type, though.’
Lucy laughs. ‘You don’thavea type.’
Nick pulls a paper wrapper from his pocket. Into atriangle of moonlight on the desk he tips a pile of white powder. Pulling out a credit card, he begins to grind and chop. Lucy watches, feeling a pinch of irritation. Rude not to ask permission. But everyone’s had a few drinks – she can forgive him. Not that Nick would care either way.
‘I hope you approve of the gift,’ he says.
‘Pretty extravagant. Even by your standards.’
‘I think you’re meant to say generous.’
‘OK, generous, then. But it’s still a fortune on a present. Tell me you’re not dying of something inoperable.’
‘Affirmative. Although I do have to tell—’
The door swings open. Bee and Tommo appear. Nick straightens, angling his body to hide the coke. Instinctively, Lucy retreats a step.
‘Oh,’ Bee says, stopping short. She screws up her face, peering from Nick to Lucy. Her T-shirt is a wall of orange text:DRINK LIKE DWARVES, SMOKE LIKE WIZARDS, SING LIKE ELVES AND PARTY LIKE HOBBITS.Tommo’s T-shirt features a Wookiee behind a pair of turntables, beneath the words:CHEWIE, DROP THE BASS.
‘Sorry, dude,’ Bee says. ‘We didn’t … I mean, we were just trying to find an empty …’
Her words fizzle out. She hiccups.