‘Tom and I couldn’t afford to have a baby even if we wanted one, so no, actually.’
They remained at the table in bad-tempered silence until Charlie received a text that made him glare at his phone and then snap the case shut and stand up so suddenly that the table shook.
‘Right. Bedtime.’
Drunk as he was, something in the tone of Charlie’s voice made Ewan sit up a bit straighter and scrutinize him through the alcohol fug in his brain. Charlie had always been so easy-going, one of those men who called himself a total wimp almost as a badge of pride. But now his features were set hard, those brown eyes so narrowed as to be almost hidden. Together with that mysterious wound on the side of his arm, it made Ewan feel uneasy. Why couldn’t people just be who they appeared to be? Why did they have to keep chopping and changing? He thought he’d left all that behind him at home where his normally loving mother would change for a few days every month into someone who seemed to view everything he did as a personal affront. And now here was laid-back Charlie acting all moody and uptight and it just made him nervous.
Now Amira was on her feet too.
‘Gotta get my beauty sleep in preparation for whatever delights we have in store for us tomorrow.’
‘Orienteering,’ muttered Chloe.
‘Oriental what?’ asked Amira.
‘You know, where we get dropped in the middle of a wood with a map and have to find our way back. Will told me. We’re in competition with Sales and Marketing again.’
Ewan was starting to feel very sluggish, as though the Scotch was mixing with the blood in his veins to form a thick paste that was clogging everything up, making it hard to think. Still, he registered that he didn’t like it when Chloe said ‘Will’ like that. So casually. Like they had some kind of special relationship or something.
‘Fantastic,’ said Amira, gathering up her handbag from the side of her chair. ‘Just when I thought this weekend couldn’t get any better.’
After she’d gone there fell a silence as dense as the fog in his head. Chloe tossed back her hair and combed her fingers through it, looking off to the side. He was touched at how much effort she was making to appear unbothered. She was so young, he remembered again. He hadn’t behaved well towards her.
‘Sorry,’ he blurted out, even before he knew he was going to say anything. ‘I was a bastard to you.’
She flicked her hair back again, still gazing off to one side, and shrugged her shoulders.
‘Yeah, you were a dick, but I’ll live.’
‘No, I mean it. I’m sorry. I really do like you, Chloe.’
He stuck his foot out under the table, meaning just to nudge her leg as a peace gesture, but instead he found himself rubbing the toe of his shoe up and down her shin. She looked down at the table, as if studying something written there but, despite her flaming cheeks, she didn’t move her leg away.
How did it happen? How does it ever happen? One moment he was running a toe down her leg and the next they were in the lift, kissing, her mouth tasting of the crème brûlée she’d had for dessert. And then he was sliding her hotel key card into the slot and they were falling inside the room and on the bed and it was hot and sweaty and fun and straightforward and he was drunk and horny and not thinking about anything except what they were doing. And everything was good until . . .
Afterwards he tried to make sense of it, to remember when it changed and what changed it, but all he could think of was that one moment they were rolling around on the bed play-wrestling in the way drunk young people do when they’re enjoying themselves and their bodies and the anticipation of what’s about to happen . . . and then Rachel had popped into his head. He couldn’t remember if it was something Chloe said or just one of those random thoughts. He remembered how Rachel had seemed to lead him on, singling him out in the office, offering him a lift to the hotel. And then she’d ignored him all day. Humiliated him. Flirting with Will in front of him. Anger pulsed in his veins, hot and insistent. And after that it wasn’t fun any more.
‘What’s wrong?’ he heard Chloe say, but it was like she was in a different room. Somewhere far away from the fury that was smothering him, making it hard to breathe.
‘Ewan?’ said the faraway Chloe, but all he could see in front of his eyes was Rachel raising her face to Will’s, her whole body leaning towards him. What a bitch she was. He wanted to do something to make her sorry for the way she’d treated him. He wanted to hurt her like she’d hurt him, so she knew how it felt. He wanted to—
‘Ewan, you’re hurting me!’