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'What's the matter, Thursday?'
'Oh – nothing. You know when you suddenly have a memory of something and you don't know why – a sort of flashback?'
He smiled.
'I don't have many memories, Thursday, I'm a Generic. I could have had a backstory but I wasn't considered important enough.'
'Is that a cat? I mean, is that a fact? Well, I just thought about the White Horse in Uffington back home. Soft warm grassland and blue skies, warm sun on my face. Why would I have done that?'
'I have no idea. Don't you think you've had enough to drink?'
'I'm fine,' I told him. 'Right as rain. Never better. What's it like being a Generic?'
'It's not bad,' he replied, taking another swig of wine. 'Promotion to a better or new part is always there if you are diligent enough and hang out at the Character Exchange. I miss having a family – that must be good.'
'My mum is a hoot,' I told him, 'and Dad doesn't exist – he's a time-travelling knight errant – don't laugh – and I have two brothers. They both live in Swindon. One's a priest and the other—'
'Is what?'
I felt confused again. It was probably the wine. I looked at my hand.
'I don't know what he does. We haven't spoken in years.'
There was another flashback, this time of the Crimea.
'This bottle's empty,' I muttered, trying to pour it.
'You have to take the cork out first,' observed Arnold. 'Allow me.'
He fumbled with the corkscrew and drew the cork after a lot of effort. I think he was drunk. Some people have no restraint.
'What do you think of the Well?' he asked.
'It's all right,' I replied. 'Life here is pretty good for an Outlander. No bills to pay, the weather is always good and, best of all, no Goliath, SpecOps or my mother's cooking.'
'SpecOps can cook?'
I giggled stupidly and so did he. Within a few seconds we had both collapsed in hysterics. I hadn't laughed like this for ages.
The laughter stopped.
'What were we giggling about?' asked Arnold.
'I don't know.'
And we collapsed in hysterics again.
I recovered and took another swig of wine.
'Do you dance?'
Arnie looked startled for a moment.
'Of course.'
I took him by the hand and led him through into the living room, found a record and put it on the turntable. I placed my hands on his shoulders and he placed his hands on my waist. It felt odd and somehow wrong but I was past caring. I had lost a good friend that day and deserved a little unwinding.
The music began and we swayed to the rhythm. I had danced a lot in the past, which must have been with Filbert, I suppose.
