for me.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry …’
‘Nope, I don’t care.’
‘You may not have to. Did you see the way he was holding that tape recorder?’
‘Yes, because he was so pissed off with you.’
‘Did you think so? I thought he was pissed off with her.’
I sipped my drink.
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Mel, can I ask you a question?’
I hate it when someone says that. What they usually mean is: Mel, can I insult you and get away with it, having warned you in advance?
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Why did you start crying?’
‘That’s, umm, a very good question.’
‘Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.’
‘It’s OK. I’m really sorry, actually. I got upset about things – it seemed so rotten. Why can’t everyone just be nice and end up with nice people? … That sounds pathetic.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ he said gently. ‘Do you include yourself in “everyone”?’
‘That’s the standard definition, isn’t it? I’m sorry. About all of it.’
‘Oh, it’s my fault. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll recover. We are brothers, after all. Blood and stuff. I think I’ll give him a wee ring in the morning, once it’s all blown over a bit.’
Phew, at least I didn’t have to do that. I finished my whisky and suddenly felt enormously sleepy.
‘How are you going to get home?’ asked Angus.
I realized to my surprise that, actually, I didn’t want to go home; I wanted to curl up in front of this big fire and put my head on his shoulder. But I didn’t say that.
‘I can’t get a cab; it’ll cost a fortune,’ I said. ‘I think I’ll phone Alex. He can drive Charlie’s car and come and pick me up.’
Angus lent me his phone.
‘Does this work in underwater pipes?’ I asked, picking up the big thing with a huge fluorescent stripe down it.
‘Maybe,’ he grinned.
Charlie answered.
‘Is Alex there?’
‘Erhm – what?’
‘Charlie, it’s Mel.’ Brain of dough. ‘Is Alex there?’
‘Ehrr, um, I’ve just got in … Ehm, I’ll go and check.’
I shot Angus a look. ‘That boy gets more moronic every day.’
‘It’s the inbreeding.’
I nodded. There was a lot of scuffling in the background, and some whispering going on.
‘Hello?’ asked Alex doubtfully.
‘Alex? Hi, it’s me.’
‘Oh, hello, pumpkin. I, ehm, thought you were out tonight.’
‘I am. Was. Look, I’ve twisted my ankle, pretty badly. Do you think you could come and pick me up?’
‘Ehm … where are you?’
‘Camden.’
‘Camden. Jesus, that’s miles away! Can’t you get a cab?’
‘If I made twice the salary I do now, I would get a cab. Look, I’d rather not, I don’t feel well and I’ve really hurt myself.’ I started to get upset again. ‘Can’t you come and get me?’
‘Look, Mel, sweetheart, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.’
‘What? What the hell is it? Why do I have to plead with you to come and pick me up?’
‘Ehm, some of the lads are round and I’ve really had too much to drink to drive.’
‘I don’t believe you. I think you just don’t want to come and get me.’
‘Pumpkin, I would if I could, honest. Trust me, it’s just impossible. Why don’t you just take a cab home and I’ll see you tomorrow?’
There was a pause. I didn’t know what to say, so I hung up the phone.
Angus looked away, embarrassed. I waited till the urge to cry had passed and swallowed hard.
‘Bastard,’ I said.
‘Sounds like one,’ said Angus. ‘I’d carry you home.’
I looked at him. ‘You would too.’
‘Damsel in distress. My speciality.’
I laughed. ‘I’m tempted.’
‘Be tempted.’ His voice suddenly turned serious. He looked at me face on, with that direct gaze of his, and my heart started beating extremely fast. We looked at each other for what seemed like a long time. Our faces began to come a little closer. Then I moved slightly, and jarred my ankle really, really hard against the chair.
‘AAAYICK!’ I yelled, bending over. The whole sleepy bar looked over to see who was being murdered. I put my hands on my ankle, trying to make it better, but it was agony. Shockwaves of pain careered up my legs.
‘Ow! Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow.’
‘Oh, you poor thing.’ Angus got up with me, as I started hopping about on one leg.
‘Ow ow ow. God, my fucking ankle! It really fucking hurts.’
‘Do you want to lean on me? Go to Casualty?’
‘No, no no. Jesus! This has happened before. Ehm, the best thing I could do really is just go home and take some aspirin. Arsing hell.’
A look passed between us. The moment when whatever might have happened was going to happen had gone.
Angus went to the bar and called a cab. I was escorted out by him and the barman, and an hour later I was safely tucked up in bed with four Nurofen and the comfort of a guaranteed sickie in the morning.
Unfortunately, my ankle felt practically fine in the morning. Well, stiff, and it hurt if I really put my weight on it, but not quite enough to justify sickie status. And as I felt, overall, that my morality rating wasn’t at its highest, I got ready
