Page 71 of Save Us
She takes a step toward me and away from McCormack, and in the same moment, I step forward.
I open my mouth, but Ruby is quicker. “Please don’t touch me,” she says, her voice polite. I take her hand as she stands beside me.
McCormack looks from one of us to the other. His mocking smile broadens a little. “How nice. Well, now that’s got sorted, kindly fuck off. I can really do without trash like you around the place.”
I feel my fist clench automatically. “Watch your mouth,” I growl.
“Leave it, James,” Wren warns me quietly.
“I’d listen to your watchdog, Beaufort.”
I take a step toward him, but suddenly Alistair is at my side, holding my arm. I glare furiously at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. You gave me hell last time I hit him, remember?” he snaps. “We’ve got more important things to do.”
I know he’s right. But I’m fuming. It’s one thing for McCormack to make snide remarks. But he insulted my friends and Ruby, and everything within me is crying out to teach him a lesson.
But then I look at Ruby and think how her parents would feel if I came home with a black eye or grazed knuckles.
With an effort, I swallow and turn away. Kesh and Wren hold Cyril up, and I hold Ruby’s hand.
Together, we leave the party.
18
Alistair
We must make a pretty picture as we weave our way through the streets away from Eastview with Cyril in our midst. At first, he can hardly stand, and we only make any progress at all because Keshav and Wren drag him between them, but the longer we’re out and about, the better he’s doing. After about two miles, we finally find a place that’s open at this time of night, and he’s been out in the open air long enough to be able to speak.
He drops onto a bench with Wren and Kesh, while James, Ruby, and I sit opposite them. Then he stares past us, out of the window, an apathetic look in his eyes.
The longer I look at Cyril, the more worried I am about him. James seems to feel similar, because there’s a mixture of sympathy, concern, and rage in his expression. After everything that Cyril did to him, Lydia, and Ruby, I can hardly blame him.
“How about you tell us what the fuck you were doing at McCormack’s?” suggests Wren, his voice carefully relaxed once we’ve got our drinks. Still water for Cyril and Coke for everyoneelse—although I saw the wistful way Kesh and Wren were eyeing the harder stuff.
“Distraction,” is all Cyril says, putting a huge effort into not slurring. He has definitely looked better—his face is red, his hair is lank, and I’d rather not know what the stains are on his white shirt.
“I invited you to my housewarming,” says Wren. “That could have taken your mind off things too.”
Cyril snorts. “Like you meant it.”
“What else d’you think I meant?”
Cyril presses his lips together and looks away.
After a second or two, Wren clears his throat. “I know how you must be doing, mate. And I—”
“You don’t know shit,” Cyril hisses. “You have no fucking idea how it feels to lose everything you even slightly love. How it feels to have only yourself to blame that all your friends hate you.”
Silence. I think we’re all holding our breath.
“We don’t hate you, Cy,” I say quietly in the end.
That just makes Cyril grind his teeth. I haven’t a clue what’s going on inside his head, but I can tell by the flush that’s slowly creeping from his cheeks down his throat that this conversation is seriously hard for him.
“Alistair’s right,” James says. “We were worried about you.”
Cyril looks up and his ice-blue eyes bore through James. “You were the one who said our friendship was over.”
