all this, I sigh.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ says Robert. ‘Dave likes girls who don’t chase him.’
‘I don’t chase him,’ I say irritably. ‘Stop reading my mind. It’s casual. We don’t ever discuss, you know, feelings.’
‘Good. I’m against that kind of filth, myself.’
‘Surely you must get fond of your ladyfriends sometimes. You’re not a heartless bastard underneath, I know you’re not.’
‘I get very fond of them. I love their company. I just don’t love . . . them.’
‘Do they ever fall in love with you?’
He shrugs. That’s a yes, then. ‘I try to keep that sort of thing, uh, to the bare minimum.’
‘Why not just say, I love you, so they feel good, and then hand them a terms and conditions contract saying, limited time only, offer subject to change, etc.’
Robert laughs for a very long time at this. I love making Robert laugh, I think suddenly. He has a loud, unselfconscious guffaw.
‘Seriously, don’t worry about Dave,’ he says later .
‘You have to stop mind-reading me,’ I say. ‘It’s getting weird.’
‘But it’s so easy. You’re like a book,’ he says. ‘A kid’s book with very big print. Like The Very Hungry Caterpillar.’
‘That was my favourite!’ I exclaim. ‘I used to read it whenever I was upset.’
‘Me too,’ he says, sipping his drink. ‘I hate Jack Daniel’s.’
‘Me too,’ I agree, taking another sip. ‘Shall we have another? Oh! I love this song,’ I say, as ‘Santa Baby’ comes on. We both start singing along, with Robert doing a very bad Eartha Kitt impression.
‘Is anything happening with Vix, by the way?’ I ask, when the song has finished and ‘Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire’ comes on, which neither of us knows the words to. ‘Obviously it’s difficult because she’s in Edinburgh, but are you guys in post-pull contact?’
‘I wasn’t with Vix in France,’ says Robert in surprise. ‘I thought you knew that.’
‘No,’ I say, shocked. ‘But – you came downstairs together.’
‘We slept in the same bed, me on top of the sheets, and her underneath,’ he says. ‘There weren’t any other beds and we’d been up late, talking about her love life. Nothing else happened.’
I’m stunned. Does it seem odd to you that Robert, the great lothario, would lie in bed with a pretty girl and not make a move? Perhaps he knows it’s unwise to plunder the wedding party, as Sophie warned. I’m about to ask him, when my phone rings. Dave! My chest leaps in delight. I reach for my phone and nearly fall off the couch.
‘Don’t answer too fast,’ advises Robert. ‘Keep him waiting.’
I shoot him a glare and then hold the ringing phone for a second to compose myself. I look at the screen. Yep, it’s Dave.
‘Why, hello,’ I say casually.
‘Why, hello to you,’ mimics Dave. ‘May I speak to Abigail Wood, please?’ He’s slurring slightly.
‘One second please,’ I respond, and then sing some hold music in a very high voice (‘Are You Going To Scarborough Fair’), before clearing my throat. ‘Hello, this is Abigail speaking.’
‘Ah! Abigail. Your secretary was very slow to answer the phone. You should fire her.’
‘I shall,’ I say. ‘I shall beat her thoroughly first, obviously.’ My eyes flick up to Robert, who looks like he’s checking texts. I wonder if he’s listening. ‘How may I be of service to you this evening, good sir?’
‘It is I who would like to service you, my girl. Very slowly and thoroughly.’
‘Everyone’s got a dream,’ I say.
‘Cheeky bitch. Right, my house. Twenty minutes.’
I look out the window. ‘It’s raining. Can’t you come here?’
‘Don’t go,’ says Robert in a low voice. ‘Don’t let him boss you around.’
‘Is that Grandpa Robbie?’ says Dave. ‘Fine, I’ll come there.’
‘No, don’t,’ I say quickly. I suddenly have no desire to see Robert and Dave indulge in their competitive put-downs, or for that matter, to take Dave up to my bedroom when Robert’s here. I don’t know why, but it would be weird. ‘I’ll be there in half an hour.’
‘Hurry,’ says Dave, and hangs up.
The Christmas music has stopped, and I sit back on the sofa next to Robert and smile at him. He grins back, but he’s not quite meeting my eyes. The room seems incredibly silent. I take a deep breath.
‘Look, I get the picture. You don’t like me seeing Dave,’ I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth nervously. ‘But it’s only casual, you know, and I promise not to steal him away from you, and I know you don’t get involved in each other’s, um, love lives, but I was your friend before I even met Dave, and I still want to be your friend. I also know you guys have a complicated friendship, and I don’t want to, um, become a pawn in your stupid macho chess game.’ Robert grins at this, which I take as a positive sign. ‘So, please, don’t be annoyed with me for seeing him. I am having fun. Which is the point, remember?’
Robert nods slowly, drains the last of his Jack Daniel’s and Coke, and gets up off the couch. ‘Absolutely. Shall I call us a cab to share? Lady Caroline needs me.’
The next Sunday evening, when I’m in bed with Dave, something unexpected happens.
‘This is nice,’ he says, nuzzling me in the darkness.
‘Nice?’ I say. ‘That’s the best you can do?’
‘This is lovely,’ he murmurs, pulling me closer to him. ‘You’re lovely. I’ve had the best time this weekend.’
That’s because we spent the last two days in and out of bars and bed. And the entire time I had to keep up my slightly tiring sassy-comeback routine. But moments like this, when his barriers are down and it’s just us whispering in the darkness, make everything worthwhile.
I sigh happily in the dark and fight the urge to kiss his shoulder.
‘I don’t think we should give Christmas presents,’ I say. I’ve been wanting to bring this up, mostly because well, I don’t think he has any intention of getting me anything, and I don’t want him or anyone else to think that disappoints me. I’m totally cool with it. ‘To each other, I mean.’
‘Is this a trick?
