Free Love and Robotics by Rachael Eyre Page A

recognising her daughter’s genius. The university years. Would they - could they? It didn’t make sense otherwise -
    They had . Vamoosed, vaporised. He should have expected it, CER had lived in denial the past decade, but that they’d have the brass bollocked nerve -
    He squirmed out of the chair, dropped it onto somebody’s foot. “He’s away!” Wulfric hissed gleefully.
    Sugar stared like a betrayed child; Fisk shook her head. Unable to explain, he retreated into the night.
     
    “Alfred?”
    He thought Josh’s quick, light footsteps had gone past, but they reversed and found him.
    “Go away!”
    “I won’t abandon a friend in need. You’re crying.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “What do you call this?” Josh pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face.
    “I’ve fucked everything up.” Alfred rubbed his nose. “Bet you wish I hadn’t come.”
    “Why would I do that? Your speech was terrific -”
    “And then I disconknockerated the seating plan.”
    “Is that a word?”
    “One of Gwyn’s.”
    “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
    A long fruity blow, wrecking Josh’s hanky. “They’ve rewritten history and don’t care. There should be a point where they say, ‘Enough. We forgive’ - well, maybe not forgive -”
    “Do you want to come back inside?”
    “Not really. But you’ve no way of getting home -”
    Josh stood his ground. “I’m not going in unless you’re there.”
    “Looks like we’ve reached a stalemate. Let’s check on Gwynnie.”
    They followed the sign posts to the drive. Gwyn was sitting on the vix, talking to someone. Josh’s friend Pip, her pink hair akimbo, wearing a knotty gold dress. Earnestly nodding, looking Gwyn up and down.
                  Alfred thought about leaving them to it, but Josh sensed no such undercurrent. “Fancy seeing you!” he exclaimed. “How do you know each other?”
    Pip brazened it out. “There’s a grapevine. Y’ guys okay?”
    “Alfred had a migraine. He’s starting to feel better.” The lie tripped glibly from Josh’s tongue. “Are you coming with us?”
    “You don’t have to,” Alfred said, seeing her eyes stray to Gwyn. Young love . He envied them.
    “Let me finish my cig.” She ground it beneath her heel.
    Smiling, murmuring encouragement, they went back over the Palace’s threshold.
     
    Second time round, it wasn’t so bad. Everyone accepted the fiction of Alfred’s migraine. Josh worked the room like a diplomat. Alfred nodded at his elbow, tailored his responses.
    “You were shy earlier,” Alfred said. “What changed?”
    “I’m with you.”
    “What, I’m such a mountebank you look good in comparison?”
    “Don’t be daft. Promise not to throw any more chairs.”
    Alfred held up his hand. “I solemnly swear -”
    Fisk sprang out from behind a tapestry. “Home time, Josh.”
    “Alfred’s taking me back.”
    “We don’t want to put Langton out of his way -”
    Alfred cut her short. “It’s not putting me out at all.”
    “Don’t be up too late. Some of us have work in the morning.” Eyes dead, face devoid of expression, she disappeared.
    “Who shat in her handbag?” Alfred asked, bewildered.
    “Everyone, I should think.” Pip wasn’t a fan, he was glad to see. She’d be a good influence on Gwyn.
    “Can we talk about something else?” Josh asked.
    The journey back was fitful but quiet. Gwyn drove like an automaton; Josh gazed out of the window. Alfred’s thoughts darted away whenever he tried to lay hands on them. He thought of Jerry’s remarks and his stomach clenched. Better to be queer than a bloody fool. He was who he was and apologised to no one.
    “We’re here,” Gwyn said.
    The Centre lay ahead in ugly magnificence. Alfred got out and held the door open. “Have you got a minute?” Josh asked.
    A wind was starting to rise. “Of course,” Alfred said. He followed him over the link bridge. Raising his face to the night sky, the artificial said,