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However, Paul not telling me about seeing Theo… well… different kettle of fish.
Everyone’s desserts are put to one side and people focus on sipping their coffee slowly, avoiding each other’s eyes. When Adam’s finished, he stands up and puts his hand in his pocket, announcing, “I’ll get this.”
“No, no, you don’t have to,” I protest.
“No, it’s my treat,” he says, rushing off to the bar to pay.
He comes back with a tray of lemon towels, hot and fragrant, plus the obligatory mint chocolates. He and Susan use the towels to clean their hands, then he swipes two of the chocolates into his pocket. Susan leans in and kisses my cheek as they make it known they’re leaving.
“Come by anytime, really,” she gushes, “Sunday roast always on, every week.”
“Thank you, babe. That’s very kind.”
Adam hustles his wife out and doesn’t broach Paul for a goodbye. They can’t get out of here fast enough.
Paul’s nursing his pint of beer, staring into it, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t even bid them goodbye. Is this who he really is? Is this drunken version of him the real Paul? He’s had six pints – I counted. I’ve had the same number of G&Ts. Adam stopped after two pints to drive Susan home. She had two glasses of wine and a little after-dinner brandy. Must have been the brandy that forced her tongue.
“Shall we go?” I ask Paul.
He nods, saying nothing.
What was so bad about running into Theo?
We’ll have it out at home.
I’m pulling my coat on, a little aggrieved he’s not helping me, even as we’re out on the street and I’m still pulling it on. Anger swells inside me as we begin the climb up the hill towards home. He didn’t even say farewell to his friends just then. He dined out (and drank free) tonight and didn’t even thank Adam.
“She shouldn’t have said anything,” he spits, sidling up beside me suddenly on the street.
I shake my head, my nerves frayed, my bones rigid with anger.
“Is this how it goes with you Bartons, hmm? You blame the people who out you, hmm? That’s a laugh. That’s really a laugh, that is.”
I storm ahead without a care for walking beside him. Suddenly he’s in front of me, stopping me from moving forward. Taking my hands, I see his vision is slightly blurred and it’s like he’s had more than six pints. Unless… he drank before we left the house… or he was getting shots in while I was in the bathroom of the Indian with Susan, gossiping as ladies do.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. He came at me and I saw red, that was all.”
My head feels like a boulder and I turn my cheek, trying to soak up the nonsense he’s saying without falling over.
“You hit him?”
“He was in Trinity and we crossed paths. He said something about not hurting Lily, don’t hurt Lily, all this bollocks, and I just laughed, then he grabbed me and tried to shake me so I lamped him, then security pulled us apart.”
“I can’t believe you.” I shove him out of the way and would trample him if I wasn’t so full of disbelief, my energy wrapped up in trying to understand how he gets himself into these messes.
Without a care for him, I stomp away even though we’re going uphill, only turning around when I hear a screech emanate from a female.
“Paul?” the woman yells, in puzzlement, I think.
I turn around and watch from a distance as a blonde woman, a bit older than us, certainly much shorter and of a slighter build than me, confronts him. He folds his arms and takes a grilling off her by the look of it. I’m not sure she knows he’s with anyone because she isn’t looking over at me, so perhaps she just saw him and didn’t see me storm off.
I watch, almost in slow motion, as she raises her hand and gives him the biggest wallop I’ve ever seen, right across his cheekbone. He bends his knees in pain and clutches his face, watching in shock as she walks off, throwing her hair behind her.
I think I’ve seen enough.
Before he sees that I’ve seen, I start running towards the taxi rank nearby. It’s not much more of a walk home, but I can’t be doing with anymore of his stupidity and fighting in the street just isn’t me.
Chapter Twenty
