‘Well, Helen mentioned there was supposed to be another gay bloke on it, so, knowing Helen, I guessed he was a set-up for me. I found out who he was and went to check him out surreptitiously. When I discovered he was drop-dead gorgeous, I introduced myself. The rest, as they say, is pornography.’ He licked his lips lasciviously.
‘Wow! Helen must be really good at this matchmaking stuff. I wouldn’t have credited her with being able to pick your type.’
‘Me neither. But that’s the best thing about him – he’s not my usual type at all. He’s actuallynice.’
Kate hadn’t seen Freddie so excited about someone for ages.
‘His name’s Ken,’ he babbled. ‘And get this – he’s asolicitor!’
‘Asolicitor!’ Kate mimicked Freddie’s awestruck tone.
‘Well, Imean, it’s so grown-up! It’s like a real job – he wearssuitsto work and everything.’
‘Imagine!’ Kate mocked.
‘And he’s got a briefcase!’ Freddie continued, unabashed.
‘Are you sure he wasn’t just saying that to get you into bed?’
‘If he was, it worked.’ Freddie picked up Kate’s bags and carted them to her bedroom. ‘When you’ve sorted yourself out, come and meet him,’ he said, dropping her luggage. ‘Then we’re all going for a long, boozy brunch and a post-mortem.’
‘Oh, Freddie, I can’t.’ Kate grimaced. ‘I literally haven’t a bean, and all my plastic’s maxed out.’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ Freddie dismissed her objections. ‘It’s not as if I don’t owe you one. Besides, I’m sure you could use a few champagne cocktails to shake off the post-wedding anticlimax.’
‘True,’ Kate conceded.
‘And we can’t let the wedding of the year pass without a thorough autopsy, can we? So, when you’re sorted, two gorgeous men are waiting to take you out.’
* * *
In the sitting room, Kate found Freddie sharing the couch with a handsome, rugged, square-jawed type. He was wearing a soft denim shirt of Freddie’s that brought out the intense blue of his eyes. He certainly seemed a more likely prospect than the parade of deadbeats Freddie usually dragged home.
‘Ken, this is Kate, my flatmate. Kate, Ken.’
‘Hi.’ As they shook hands, Ken’s eyes lit up with recognition. ‘You were the bridesmaid,’ he said.
‘Oh, and I thought my disguise was perfect.’
‘Almost.’ It was like Cinderella in reverse, Ken thought. She was infinitely prettier today and seemed about ten years younger, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, her long dark hair falling loose down her back. With her face devoid of makeup, her clear green eyes sparkled and her skin was glowing and flawless. ‘Youplayed a blinder,’ he said. ‘Snoring through the speeches was a nice touch.’
‘Thanks. I thought the whole smiling-graciously-looking-dignified thing had been done to death.’
‘Well, you certainly avoided that pitfall,’ Ken remarked. ‘It was a novel approach.’
‘Okay, let’s go,’ Freddie said, having glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll be late if we don’t get a move on.’
‘That shirt suits you,’ Kate commented to Ken, as they went out.
‘You should keep it,’ Freddie said. ‘I’ve never worn it. Can’t think why I bought it – must have been having a lumberjack moment.’
* * *
It’s good to be back,Kate thought, as they strolled along the winding, cobbled streets, with the peaceful sound of the Christchurch bells ringing in the background. She loved living in this part of the city. It was always busy at night, with its proliferation of clubs, bars and restaurants, but she liked it most of all on quiet Sunday mornings like this, when it had a lazy, muted feel. Tourists spilled out of hotels and clubbers drifted home or sat at outdoor cafés eating breakfast, still in their party clothes, slowly coming down from the highs of the night before. The quiet was broken by the high-spirited laughter of a few young girls in veils, obviously refugees from a hen party, who burst onto the street with a clatter of shrieks, and were gone, disappearing into the morning like wraiths.
She had missed this morning-after life – the late Sunday breakfasts that she and Freddie spent woozily picking apart the depredations of the previous night, piecing together hazy details,or swapping stories of disastrous dates. Kate had always secretly enjoyed these post-mortems more than the dates and the clubbing, though there had been less of either for her since she had been going out with Brian. Now she listened to Freddie’s stories with a mixture of relief that she was no longer putting herself out there and envy that he was still having adventures.
The restaurant was packed, buzzing with animated chatter and the clatter of plates as white-aproned waiters slid between the tables bearing huge plates of food or colourful jugs of Bloody Marys and Bellinis.
