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“Yes, I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” I reply.
“It had excellent reviews when I looked it up,” he tells me, “especially the full English, so I have high hopes.”
Sure enough, the breakfast looks delicious when it arrives. Tentatively I cut a piece off one of the hash browns, dip it in the egg yolk, and pop it in my mouth.
“Mmm, this is good,” I murmur, as I take small mouthfuls of bacon, sausage mushrooms, and baked beans. I add a splodge of brown sauce to the plate and sigh contentedly as the food begins to work its magic. I can feel my headache receding, and my stomach begins to rumble with pleasure.
“Feeling better?” Toby smiles.
“Much better. This was an excellent idea.”
“I told you. Best hangover cure there is, apart from shutting your finger in the door.”
“I’ve never heard of that one!”
“Neither had I, until it happened to me. It was the only time I was invited to a party by someone from school. It was his eighteenth, and his mates had concocted some sort of punch in a huge bowl. I have no idea what was in it, but it was potent. When I woke in the morning, the pain was so intense that I was convinced I was going to die, and I was throwing up every five minutes. I couldn’t face the bus ride home, but one of the other guys there took pity on me and offered to drive me. We had to stop several times on the way for me to be sick, but he was very good-natured about it. He kept saying ‘We’ve all been there, mate’, and laughing. When he dropped me off, I wasn’t looking what I was doing and shut my finger in the door. My finger hurt like hell for a while, but the headache and nausea completely disappeared. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll take a rain check on that one. This is better.”
“I think you’re right. It took me ages to live it down at school, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
The rest of the meal passes pretty much in silence, as we focus on our food. Much to my surprise, especially given the extras that Toby ordered, I clear my plate. Toby pays the bill and I link my arm through his as we saunter back towards my flat.
“So, what else do I need to know about last night?” I ask him.
“Well,” he looks at me with a sparkle in his eye, “you told me that you loved me.”
“Did I?”
“Yes. You said ‘I bloody love you, Toby Roberts’. It made my evening, even though you were very drunk. In vino veritas, I reckon.”
“Of course I love you!” I exclaim. “You and Charley are my best friends, and I love you both.”
Toby stops walking and detaches his arm from mine. I turn to look at him and, to my astonishment, he looks stunned, like I’ve slapped him.
“What? What’s the matter?” I ask him.
“Nothing. Never mind,” he replies, curtly, and starts walking again. I notice he’s thrust his hands into his pockets, so that I can’t link arms with him again.
“Come on, Toby. Something’s bothering you. Tell me what it is,” I urge. I grab his arm to force him to stop. When he turns to face me, I can see that his eyes are watery, as if he’s on the verge of tears.
“What is it? What have I said?”
“I’m sorry Madison,” he replies, his voice shaking with emotion, “I can’t do this any more.”
“Do what?”
“Do you remember, when we went to Hever, I told you I’d met someone, but that I was in the friend zone?”
Relief washes through me. This is about the guy he met. He’s probably given him the brush-off and he’s hurting. I can deal with this.
“Yes. What happened?”
“Did you really not know who I was talking about?”
This question catches me by surprise. Why would I know who he was talking about? The only one of his friends I’ve met properly is Paul, and I’m pretty sure Toby hasn’t fallen in love with him. They’ve known each other for ages, so surely something would have happened by now if it was going to happen. Also, I’m pretty sure Paul is straight.
“Is it someone I know?” I ask, tentatively.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Madison! Do you honestly not have a clue?”
I stare at him. I literally have no idea what he’s on about.
“It’s you, Madison. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
