She reached out a hand and took his gift.
The boy’s eyes followed the pink biscuit from the plate to her mouth and as she sank her teeth into it, he copied her, biting into his own.
Shell couldn’t stop the smile forming as the boy’s eyes shone. Sure, he was making crumbs all down his front, but at least he too seemed to appreciate the brilliance of a pink wafer biscuit. Not everyone got it.
Shell had no idea when Livvie had joined the boy’s mum in staring in smiling amazement at him while he sucked on the biscuit. The mum had a hand over her mouth as though the boy had done something completely amazing. Mums were so confusing. She’d never, ever understand them.
‘I think you’ve made a friend there, Shell,’ said her mother, patting at the other woman’s shoulder.
Shell didn’t like this at all, and turned her back so she could try her milkshake, which really was completely delicious and had the swirly cream on top and raspberry sauce and everything. After a while, Shell realised her mum had gone back to watching the woodworkers while the boy’s mum was just sitting there stirring her tea like she was half-asleep. Shell decided she probably should keep an eye on that boy, since no one else could be bothered.
He was turning the pages of the shed’s big bumper colouring book. She supposed it might be very nice of her if she helped a bit. So she dislodged her best yellow crayon from her pencil case and, just as he’d done with his saucer, she rolled it across the rug towards him with the toe of her school shoe.
He grabbed the crayon and started scribbling immediately, making a little happy giggly sound, and his mum, looking between Shell and her boy, seemed like she was going to explode with happiness or something.
Mums are so weird.
18
Kurt greeted Big Kenneth, the Ptarmigan nightclub’s doorman, like they were old buddies, and led the way through the entrance and up the stairs with the authority of a man who frequented this place regularly.
Murray followed, a little unsteady on his feet but trying to pretend he was some easy-breezy first dater. Kurt couldn’t know how long he’d spent practising his smile in the bathroom mirror earlier, miming a handshake greeting, deciding against it, telling himself he needed to ‘just breathe’ before rehearsing meeting him with a casual kiss. This time, he’d told himself,hemight try to be the one putting a peck on Kurt’s cheek while maintaining a hands in pockets,hey I’m cool about thisstance and saying something along the lines of a cheery, ‘Hiya, good seeing you.’
The bathroom mirror version of Murray would be very disappointed to learn that all his planning had gone out the window when real-life Kurt bounded up to real-life Murray at the foot of the nightclub steps and went in immediately for a hug, leaving Murray with his hands trapped stupidly in his coat pockets, unable to hug back.
‘You ready for this?’ Kurt was saying now, smiling over one shoulder, standing before the double doors that would lead to the bar and dancefloor.
Murray returned what he hoped came over as an enthusiastic smile.
* * *
Only an hour before, his sister had done her best to convince him everything would turn out all right while he’d tried on every one of his favourite jumpers and hooded tops for her to rate over videocall.
‘Honestly, the first one was fine,’ she’d said dryly, as he sported look number five.
‘But this one’s new season Loewe. Kurt might appreciate good design?’
‘From what you’ve told me, he’ll like you even if you wore that Christmas jumper Mum knitted for you.’
‘Don’t remind me.’ From the wardrobe behind him, a jarringly lime green cuff of loopy, loose knitting showed itself over the open top of a snowman giftbag.
He’d pulled the black sweater off and retrieved the first one he’d modelled for his sister. Ally might not care about luxury gear but he trusted her judgement on dating, which was another huge turn-up for the books, considering the mess her love life had been in only a year ago. Yet only recently she’d shared a cosy Swiss chalet Christmas break with Jamie, her policeman boyfriend, and she still wore a loved-up glow of self-assurance as a souvenir.
‘Just throw something on and go. See if there’s really a spark there, and let the evening take you… wherever.’
‘It’s not the spark I’m worried about, it’s thewherever,’ Murray had said, holding up two pairs of boots and letting Ally choose.
‘The black ones,’ she’d said with a shrug.
‘These are Kurt Geiger sloanes!’ he’d told her, mock offended at her ignorance.
Ally rolled her eyes. They did this when he was nervous. It was comforting.
‘Just let him askyousome questions, OK? Be sure he’s interested in getting to know you. If he doesn’t ask you anything at all, run.’
‘Got it.’ There’d be no problems there. Kurt had made no secret of the fact he found Murray fascinating. He was anticipating a barrage of interested questions; the dreaded, ‘so whyareyou single?’ coming top of the list. ‘It’ll be too loud in the Ptarmigan to talk all that much anyway,’ Murray said, glad this wasn’t going to be a chatty kind of date.
‘And text me if you’re staying out all night, OK?’
