‘You definitely are doing that,’ Natalie points out, rolling her eyes. ‘I might get a bottle of wine, anyone in?’
She heads to the bar and I try to squash the niggling annoyance that Dylan is running late.
Fifteen minutes later he’s still not here and my heckles are up but Alice and Natalie don’t seem fussed. They’re having an in-depth discussion about Dylan’s new date, Octavia, and from what I can gather neither of them are massively impressed.
‘She runs an art gallery in London,’ Alice says for my benefit.
‘And she seems very posh and pretentious,’ adds Natalie.
‘There’s a fair bit of posh and pretentious in the business but there are some good eggs too,’ I say.
‘I was hanging out with them last weekend while you guys had your O date and to me, Octavia seems cold and stand-offish. I just don’t understand what Dylan sees in her, other than the fact that she’s incredibly hot.’
‘I think you might have answered your own question there,’ Alice grins.
‘How about you Nat? Still taking some time off from dating?’ I ask.
‘You bet your ass! I’m enjoying being one hundred per cent me at the moment, if that makes sense? I’m not diluting myself with any of the guys I’ve been dating. I think I prefer my own company anyway. So tonight you’re getting pure Natalie juice, not from concentrate. Though I can’t stay late. Early start in the morning.’
‘Let’s hope Dylan gets here soon, then,’ I say. ‘We’ve only got the ping pong table for an hour and the slot starts in five minutes.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Alice says breezily. ‘He’ll get here when he gets here. It’s fine if we start a bit later, don’t you think?’
‘Sure,’ I reply, my inner stickler for time-keeping having a minor panic attack.
Alice has tied her hair back with the silk scarf she found in her bag so that she could ‘concentrate on annihilating me’.
‘My favourite thing about you is how very charming and not at all competitive you are,’ I tease. We bat back and forth, running lengths of the ping pong table as she shouts things like ‘oh look, it’s Banksy’ and ‘I’m pretty sure Margot Robbie just walked in’ in an attempt to distract me.
‘Nice try!’
There’s a commotion by the bar and I turn my head to see that people are recognising Dylan as he arrives, some clapping him on the back and asking for selfies. He’s lapping it up, so confident in himself, and I try to ignore the annoyance prickling at me. There’s a broad smile across his face as he makes his way over to us, followed by a beautiful redhead with the curves of a Titian painting.
‘Oi oi,’ he says, giving Alice a hug first. ‘Pickle, you haven’t met Octavia yet. Octavia, this is my other best friend Alice … and her friend Zach.’
Forty-five minutes late and now he’s referring to me as Alice’s friend? I’m a bit pissed off. I guess calling me by my real name is a step up from No Big Deal, though, which I could see he’d put down next to Alice’s name on the guestlist when we went to see his gig. I really should try to play nice for her sake.
Introductions and greetings over, Alice and Nat head to the bar for another round while Octavia looks like she’s searching for the least contaminated chair to sit on, finally perching on the edge of my sofa.
‘Good to see you again, mate,’ Dylan pats me on the back a bit too hard.
‘You too. Alice says you’ve had the week back up here?’
‘Yeah man, it’s been awesome. I wanted to introduce Octavia to my friends and family.’ I’m sure that’s been a blast, I think as she smiles tightly at me. ‘Actually, Octavia, you might have heard of Zach. He’s an artist.’
‘Zach Moretti,’ I say, extending my hand.
I watch her whole face change as she stares at me, like she’s seeing me in a completely new light. ‘Shut the front door,’ she says eventually in a cut-glass accent. ‘The Zach Moretti? Red Circle? Black Square?’
I nod.
‘This is too much,’ she says. Dylan looks distinctly put out, bristling as she slides along the sofa to sit right next to me. The smell of rich, heady perfume fills my nostrils.
‘Well I never. Zach, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve just taken a few of your pieces in the gallery and they’re getting a lot of interest already.’ She laughs at this, a light, tinkling noise. ‘I did not expect to meet the artist responsible for some of my favourite pieces in a …’ Octavia pauses as she looks around. Alice and Nat are back at our table with the drinks now and we all watch her search for some acceptable words. ‘Liddle bar slash ping pong venue up north. We can’t be far from Scotland here!’
‘Sheffield’s in South Yorkshire,’ Alice points out defensively.
‘Sure, sure,’ nods Octavia. ‘I’m a Londoner, you know? It’s all just a blur once you get past Hampstead Heath. All these liddle villages!’
