breath.
‘Nothing. Er, just saw the time, actually,’ says Toby, brightly. ‘I’d better get going.’
‘Really?’ Lexi’s face falls, her eyes drunkenly following him as he gets his jacket.
I’d normally see Toby to the door, catch one more lingering kiss before he has to go but I can’t risk it this time. Besides anything else, leaving Lexi alone with the pants could be potential suicide.
‘Good book club this week, Delaney,’ I opt for, lamely, as he puts on his jacket.
‘Best book I’ve had … sorry,
read,
for ages,’ he says, which is a joke he wheels out every book club. ‘Hope your head’s not sore tomorrow, Alexis,’ he adds as he’s walking out. I watch as he opens the door, closes it behind him and goes home to his wife.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lexi goes to the tap to get some water and I immediately see my opportunity, grab the pants and put them in the kitchen drawer. She sits back down, nearly missing the chair. God, I think, I really don’t need this.
‘Lexi, are you drunk?’
‘No.’
‘Well, yes, you are, actually. It’s totally obvious.’
She rolls her eyes and gives a little teenage wobble of the head and I suddenly feel very tired. I’ve come over all black of mood and pretty miffed that she thinks she can just turn up here with her minxy little ways and flirt with my, my – what was he? – my lover? My partner in crime? My … well,
mine
anyway, that’s what he was. And I resent her making me feel like this, actually: a horrid mix of jealous big sister – a very unattractive emotion – and a nagging, joyless mother when she’s my sister and I just want to go to bed, go to work and get on with my life like I was doing before.
‘What happened to the body combat class?’
‘I bumped into a friend.’
‘Lex, come on. This is London. I’ve been here for a decade and never just bumped into friends.’
‘Well, I did, okay?’
‘And who is this friend? Is it a male friend?’
‘Might be.’
‘Is it that Jerome bloke you met on the train?’
‘Might be.’
‘Is it Wayne?’
‘Nope.’
‘Lexi, don’t be like that.’
‘I’m not being like
anything,’
she sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically.
‘And what was that flirting in aid of anyway?’ It comes from nowhere but it’s out now and I can’t take it back.
‘What flirting?’
‘Oh come on, Lexi, you were flirting like mad with Toby! Batting your eyelashes, kicking your shoes off.’
‘I was not! I was just chatting to him.’
‘Chatting? You were thrusting your cleavage in his face!’
She looks visibly wounded. I feel a stab of guilt, but not much.
‘That’s bollocks. And anyway,
he
was flirting with
me
.’
‘That
is
bollocks. You’re just pissed and imagining things.’
‘What do you care anyway?’
She had a point; why did I suddenly care?
‘He’s my colleague! I have to work with him.’
‘Whoopdee-do, he’s not your boyfriend is he? And so what if I have a little flirt with a nice bloke who’s who’s …’ she starts crying now, which seems a little OTT. I know I should probably hug her but I don’t feel like it, I just don’t. ‘Nice to me and asking me questions?’
I roll my eyes. ‘For God’s sake, Lexi. It’s not really that, it’s the fact you’re drunk out of your head and I’m supposed to be bloody well looking after you! You’re supposed to have come here to sort your head out and I don’t even know where you’ve been.’
Just then the phone goes. We both stare at it, then stare at each other.
‘If it’s Dad, I’m not in,’ says Lexi
‘You bloody well are.’
I pick up the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Oh, hi there.’ It’s a man’s voice – a man’s, not a boy’s. ‘Is Lexi there?’
‘Who is this?’
‘Tell her it’s Clark,’ he says. His voice is northern, rich, and really quite attractive.
‘It’s Clark,’ I say, flatly, holding out the receiver, but Lexi’s face darkens immediately.
‘No. No way,’ she says,
Joy Nash, Jaide Fox, Michelle Pillow