Page 9 of The Way We Are Now

I was reading an especially interesting piece about the justice system, breaking off when Frank uttered a belittling ‘pillock’ while sniffing with obvious disdain as he did so.

‘Sorry?’ I frowned. ‘What?’

Frank indicated, with a nod of his head, a newcomer to the library, making his way with a pile of books towards a table a couple of metres away, shrugging off a navy jacket and settling down with his back to us. It was a particularly lovely back, I had to admit. Encased in a navy sweater over a checked shirt – very preppy – I had to stop myself staring, especially as Frank was following my gaze, his eyebrows raised.

‘Privileged!’ He sniffed disparagingly.

‘Who?’

‘You know, the guy who’s just come in.’ He turned his head slightly in the other’s direction, his tone scoffing.

‘Oh? And you know that, do you? You know him?’

‘Well, his sort always are, aren’t they?’

‘His sort? What on earth is his sort?’

‘Oh, come on, Anna. You know exactly what I mean. Wealthy, privileged, think the world owes them a living…’

‘Frank, have I ever told you?’ I shook my head at him. ‘You’re bloody judgemental. Now, I do get where you’re coming from, and I can assure you, I’ve no interest in getting to know someone like him…’

‘Someone like him?’ Frank crowed the words, leaning back on the hard wooden chair in some triumph. ‘And you think I’m judgemental?’ He broke off as the man in question walked towards us, heading for the library section which housed books on history. He gave me an uninterested look as he walked past and then stopped, reversing a couple of steps until he was standing at my side.

‘So sorry, I didn’t realise it was you… you look… erm… different…?’

‘No mask, no orange tabard, hair not tied up in a washerwoman scarf. And you certainly look different with your clothes on.’

Frank’s eyes were wide, his head moving from the man at my side and back to me, as though at Wimbledon.

The man grinned, holding out a hand. ‘Theo. You’d left before I could get my clothes on…’

Frank’s eyes were out on stalks.

‘…and able to apologise for your having to catch me in the buff.’

I took his hand. It was warm and tanned, an ink stain on the left thumb testament to his use of a fountain pen, rather than the ballpoint pen everyone else I knew used for making notes.

‘Anna,’ I replied, unsure what else to say. I wasn’t used to such formal introductions in the middle of a hitherto silent library. Heads were turning, but whether that was because Theo appeared to have some sort of following here at Leeds, or because we were disturbing the sanctity of library peace, I wasn’t sure.

Theo grinned down at me again before making his way back to the book section that had been his intended destination.

‘Pillock,’ Frank muttered once more under his breath.

‘Who?’ I shook my head at Frank. ‘Him or me?’

‘You?’ Frank looked aghast and I wanted to laugh. ‘Not you. No, Anna, of course not you. You know I’d never call you names like that.’ He paused. ‘You do know what he is?’

‘What he is? As opposed to who he is?’

‘He’s almost royalty.’

‘Is he?’ The Queen didn’t have another son, did she? Because this Theo bloke was a hell of a lot better looking than Prince Charles and the other two whose names I couldn’t, having little interest in the royal family, recall for a minute. ‘What do you mean almost?’ I leaned in, interested in this if nothing else.

‘Theo Mandeville’s father is some second or third cousin, twice removed, of the Queen. Or something like that.’

‘I think you’ll find we all are if you go back far enough. You know, to the Norman Conquest. And I can’t imagine how you know, or are at all interested in this, Frank. Right,’ I went on, closing my books and searching for my backpack with my feet. ‘I’ve had enough. Thank God we’re not cleaning again tomorrow. Got a day off until Friday.’ I stood as Frank started to pack up his own things.

‘So, a quick drink?’ he asked hopefully. ‘To discuss our next move?’