‘I wanted to apologise. We didn’t really get a chance to speak at dinner. Jake’s very interesting, but he doesn’t have much of a sense of humour. Or curiosity.’
‘No, I noticed.’
‘I liked it when you threatened to cut off his legs.’
‘Did I do that? I did, didn’t I?’
‘I was watching your face. You got very eloquent, very passionate. Of course I didn’t understand half of what you were saying. I’m completely remedial when it comes to science. I don’t know what revolves around what, or why the sky’s blue, or the difference between an atom and a molecule. It’s embarrassing, really. I took my niece to the seaside last summer and she asked me why the tide came in and out and I told her it was something to do with magnets.’
I laughed. ‘Well it’s one theory, I suppose.’
She put her hand on my arm. ‘Is it magnets? Please, please tell me it’s magnets!’
I was in the process of explaining the influence of the moon’s gravitational pull on large bodies of water, when she paused and put her hands on her chest and opened her eyes wide.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I just got a bit of a rush. Are you feeling it yet?’
‘The drugs? Oh, I don’t really do that kind of thing.’
‘Very sensible. Very.’
We looked around the room. The drugs seemed to be having a devastating effect on people’s posture, with everyone hunching their shoulders and bobbing their heads in a sort of hyper-tense disco. My sister in particular was scrunched up like a squirrel, sucking her lips inwards in concentration as she shook tiny imaginary maracas.
‘Look at them,’ said Connie, shaking her head. ‘People always say take this, drink that, you’ll lose your inhibitions. What we need is something that’ll give them back. Here, try this, it’ll make you massively sensible. We’d all have a much better time. Imagine waking up and saying to yourself, “Christ, I was totally inhibited last night.”’
‘Actually, that’s exactly what I do say.’
She laughed, for the first time I think. ‘Lucky you! Sounds lovely.’ There was a brief moment where we did nothing but smile, then: ‘It’s very loud in here. I need some water. Can we go in the kitchen?’
I noticed Jake, his hooded eyes glaring territorially. ‘Actually, I was about to head off home.’
‘Douglas,’ she said over her shoulder, reaching out her hand, ‘you give in far too easily,’ and I wondered what she meant as I followed her through.
In the kitchen I battled with my desire to wipe down all the surfaces.
‘Your sister tells me you’re some kind of genius.’
‘Well, my sister has a low “genius” threshold. She says the same about practically everyone in that room.’
‘That’s different, though, isn’t it? That’s talent, and not even talent most of the time. Self-confidence, that’s what it is. When she says “genius” she just means they’ve got a really loud voice. You, you actually know things. Tell me again, about the fruit flies.’
I did my best to explain in layman’s terms, while she stood at the sink and drank water from a pint glass in one long gulp, then remained standing with her head thrown back, a good deal of water running the length of her neck.
‘… then we take the next generation of fruit flies and examine how the chemical agents have altered the … are you all right?’
Coming round, she blinked and shook her head a little. ‘Me? Yeah, I’m fine, I drank a little too much and now …’ She sighed and drew her hands down her face. ‘Christ, that was a bright idea! I’ve just broken up with someone, you see.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘No, it was the right thing to do, it was a terrible relationship, it’s just … it was four years, you know?’
‘A long time.’
‘Keep talking to me, won’t you? Don’t go away.’
I had no intention of going away. ‘So we look for changes in the fly’s pheno—’
‘You seeing someone, Douglas?’
‘Me? No, not at the moment, not for some time. Pressure of work,’ I said, as if this were the reason.
‘I knew you were single.’
‘Is it really so obvious?’
‘No, I mean your sister told me. I think she’s been trying to fix us up.’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sorry about that.’
‘Don’t apologise. Not your fault. She’s convinced that I’d be good for you. Or was it the other way around? Either way, nothing’s going to happen.’
‘Oh.’ This struck me as unnecessarily blunt. ‘No, well, I suspected that.’
‘Sorry, sorry, not because of you — you seem really, really nice — just because, you know, rebound and everything. I’m a bit …’
A moment passed. ‘I presumed you were interested in—’
‘Jake? God, no!’
‘It seemed that way at dinner.’
‘Did it? I’m sorry, I wanted to talk to you but he just wouldn’t stop and — Jake? Really, not for me. Can you imagine that flying through the air towards you, like a great hennaed bear, arms outstretched. I’d keep my hands deep in my pockets, safety net or no safety net.’ She poured red wine into the pint glass then gulped it down as if it were lemon barley water. ‘If I wanted a self-absorbed egomaniac, I’d call my ex.’ She pointed an unsteady finger at me. ‘Don’t let me call my ex!’
‘I won’t.’
There was a pause, and she smiled. Lipstick had been replaced by the black stain of the wine, and her dark fringe was now sticky with sweat. Pupils dilated, her eyes were wonderful. She tugged at the front of her dress. ‘Is it hot in here, or is it me?’
‘It’s you,’ I said. I had been considering what it would feel like to kiss her, weighing this against what it would feel like to miss the last tube. The kiss felt possible, but it felt un-gentlemanly to take advantage of standards that had been chemically lowered. Which was clearly the case, because now she shivered and smiled and said:
‘Please don’t misinterpret this, Douglas, but would you mind coming over here and just … holding me?’
At which point a fiery ball of hair barrelled low into the kitchen, scooped her up and dangled her over his shoulder. ‘Are you hiding from me, little lady?’
‘Actually, can you put me down please, Jake?’
‘Scuttling away with Doctor Frankenstein …’ He was shifting her on his shoulder now, as if adjusting a roll of carpet. ‘Come and dance with me. Now!’
‘Stop it, please!’ She seemed embarrassed, upset, her face red.
‘Jake, I think you should put her—’
‘Here, watch this. Can you do this, Doctor Frankenstein?’ And with an ease that would have been admirable if Connie had been willing, he tossed her into the air and caught her on the palms of his hands, his elbows locked so that her head bounced against the lightshade. Her black dress had ridden up and with one hand she tugged it down, the smile on her face fixed and mirthless.
‘I said, put. Her. Down!’
I could hardly believe the voice was mine, or indeed the hand that was now at arm’s length, brandishing a plastic spatula flecked with tuna pasta bake. Jake glanced at the spatula, then at me, then laughed, rolled Connie down to the ground and with a dainty big-top skip, left the kitchen. ‘Prick-tease!’ was his parting shot.
‘I hope they take away your safety net!’ shouted Connie, tugging at her dress’s hem. ‘Conceited bastard.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Me? I’m fine. Thank you.’ I followed her glance. The rubber utensil was still in my hand. ‘What were you planning to do with that?’