‘Maybe it’s just being in the car,’ Tom said, putting his key in the front door and shoving it open. ‘He’ll be better once we get him inside.’
Rachel guided Oscar down the corridor and let him lean on her as Tom unlocked the flat door.
‘You’re well fit, y’know,’ Oscar said, as if this were a crucial truth that had just become clear to him. He stared at her with doe-eyed, inebriated adoration.
Rachel laughed. Tom pulled Oscar away from her, tugging him into the flat by his coat sleeve.
‘You never said you had a fit girlfriend,’ Oscar slurred. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a fit girlfriend?’
Exasperated, Tom briefly let go of his brother to tear at his own hair. Rachel observed it was becoming curlier and more unruly as his annoyance with Oscar increased.
‘Rachelisn’tmy girlfriend, Oz,’ he said, with a touch more feeling than Rachel thought was necessary. ‘Men and women can be friends, you know. They can be in each other’s lives without needing to sleep together.’
Gee, thanks, Rachel thought, then reproved herself for being so ridiculous. Tom was only telling the truth, after all: there’d never been anything romantic between them.
Oscar swayed towards Rachel, staring up at her with eyes that she noticed were the same shape as Tom’s, but brown instead of blue.
‘Go out with me instead,’ Oscar said, taking both her hands in his and gesturing at his brother. ‘He’s an idiot anyway. And he’s old.’
‘Oh, for fuck’ssake,’ Tom grumbled, reaching for Oscar to move him away.
Oscar tightened his grip on Rachel’s fingers. He looked greener than ever.
‘OSCAR!’ Tom bellowed, his temper finally fraying.
‘You can’t split us up,’ Oscar insisted, throwing his body towards Rachel’s. ‘She’s lovely. I think I might love her.’
Tom hooked an arm around Oscar’s middle. ‘You’re going to knock her over. And you don’t love her, you’ve only known her an hour.’
‘You’re just jealous!’ Oscar shouted triumphantly, still holding on to Rachel’s hands. ‘Back off, you had your chance!’
‘I’m sorry about this, Rach,’ Tom said, looking wretched. He moved backwards, still clinging to Oscar’s waist and trying to pull him away from her.
‘Nooooo!’ Oscar wailed, resisting.
Even as she saw Oscar clutch a hand to his stomach, Rachel couldn’t help giggling at the ridiculous spectacle of it all. She was still laughing as his jaw went slack and he lurched towards her, his stomach convulsing in an almighty heave that she realised, too late, would have very unpleasant consequences.
A fountain of projectile vomit erupted in Rachel’s direction, spraying her from her shoulders down to her waist. Before she or Tom could register what had happened, Oscar staggered forward and threw up again – this time spattering Rachel from thigh to shin with vivid reddish puke.
Oscar sank to the floor and put his head between his knees as Tom surveyed the carnage.
‘Oh my God. Oh myGod… Is that blood? Is hebleeding?’
‘No,’ Rachel said. Beneath the acrid upchuck smell emanating from her sweater was an intensely sweet aroma she recognised.
‘I’m pretty sure that colour’s blackcurrant cordial. I think this is snakey-B vomit.’
‘Thank God,’ Tom said, relief giving way to horror as he looked more closely at Rachel, taking in the full extent of her soaking. ‘Oh fuck. Look at you.’
‘Yeah. Bit grim,’ Rachel said, feeling very grossed out and queasy herself but trying not to show it. ‘It’s probably a good thing he’s been sick, though … His colour’s already coming back.’
It was true. Oscar looked pathetic, curled up in a ball on the stained sitting room rug – but his cheeks had lost the waxy, washed-out look they’d had before.
‘Sorry,’ he moaned from the floor, sounding almost coherent.
‘Get him to bed,’ Rachel said, pointing. ‘Honestly, I’m okay for a minute.’
Tom sighed in resignation and crouched down to Oscar. ‘Come on, you absolute arsepain. I’ll be back ASAP, Rach.’
