Page 82 of Boyfriend Material
It was. And it usually lived in the attic. I’d like to think I would have noticed if I hadn’t been so distracted by, well, everything else.
“Ah oui. Luc’s father wants me to collaborate with him on a new album.”
I choked on curry. I mean, I’d been choking on curry already, but this time the reaction was emotional, rather than chemical. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me you had a fake boyfriend.”
“That’s different. Oliver didn’t walk out on us twenty-five years ago and isn’t a complete arsehole.”
“I’m not even sure I’m going to do it, mon caneton.” Mum forked up a curried banana with what appeared to be genuine relish. “I haven’t written in years. I think I’ve run out of things to say.”
Judy glanced up from her almost-empty bowl. No wonder the queen was still going—they clearly made the aristocracy out of concrete. “’Course you haven’t. Just need to get back on the horse, that’s all.”
“I’m not sure the horse is what I remember it being. Horses get old, too, you know. Sometimes, it’s kinder to leave them out in the field, eating the apples.”
“I can’t believe you’re even thinking about this.” I stopped slightly short of yelling. “Obviously, if you want to write music, that’s great. But why do you have to do it with Jon Fucking Fleming?”
“We always had something together. And this may be the last chance I get.”
I plonked what was left of my curry on the side table. This was a perfect excuse not to eat it, but I was also kind of too angry for food right now. “You mean, the last chancehe’llget. He’s blatantly using you.”
“So? I could use him back.”
“It’s true,” added Judy. “You’re never more popular than when you’re dead. Look at Diana.”
“Yeah but”—I accidentally elbowed Oliver in my effort to gesticulate—“you’ll have to spend time with him. He doesn’t deserve to spend time with you.”
“Luc, I decide who I spend time with. Not you.”
I opened my mouth. Then closed it again. “Sorry. I…just…sorry.”
“Don’t worry, mon cher. You don’t have to look after me.” She stood up decisively. “Now, shall we tidy away the dinner things and then gag on the fierce queens?”
Chapter 26
Partly out of a desire not to look like a terrible son and partly because I needed a change of scenery, I persuaded Mum to let me deal with the cleanup. It wasn’t until I got into the kitchen that I remembered quite what carnage my mum was capable of creating, especially when she was making the special curry.
“I can see where you get it from,” said Oliver, coming in behind me, with Eugenie trailing behind him.
I dumped the bowls next to the sink, which was full of other things that should in no way have been necessary to produce anything like what we’d just eaten. “I’m sorry.” I kept on staring at the washing up, too scared to look at Oliver, in case he was horrified or disappointed or confused or contemptuous. “This is awful, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s not awful. They’re your family, and you clearly all care about each other a lot.”
“Yeah but we’ve talked about my dad’s penis, served you a literally inedible nonvegetarian curry, and then I had a fight with my mum I really wish you hadn’t seen.”
His arms went round me, in that enfoldy sort of way he was so good at, and he pressed against my back. “It’s certainly very different from what I’m used to. But I don’t…I don’t think it’s bad. It’shonest.”
“I shouldn’t have freaked out about Jon Fleming.”
“You had a slightly emotional disagreement that I could tell came from a good place.”
I let myself lean into him, his chin settling neatly onto my shoulder as if it belonged there. “You can’t want any of this.”
“If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have come.”
“It must be so weird to you, though.” Turning, I discovered too late that it brought us way too close, way too quickly. Probably I should have moved away, but between the sink and the currypocalypse, there was nowhere for me to go. And, anyway, I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to. “I mean, you have two fully functional parents, and neither of them have ever been in jail or on TV. I bet you don’t row in public or ask if people are in the KGB two seconds after meeting them.”
He laughed softly, his breath warm and sweet against my lips—oddly sweet, actually, considering the curry. Must have been the banana. “No, we don’t. And I admit, I’m quite glad we don’t. But it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong you do. People express love in different ways.”
