LITMIR.BIZ

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instantly unfashionable.

      ‘How you doing?’ said Max and then extended one arm for a handshake before spluttering something from the depths of his lungs into his other hand. ‘Ugh, er, sorry,’ he recovered.

      Charlie smiled sweetly. ‘You’ll love it here, it’s just so … um.’ She waved her hand and gazed bashfully at the ceiling. The word or phrase she was searching for did not come. She shrugged. ‘Yeah, it’s so, well, perfect.’

      ‘Come on, Flin, I’ll show you your room.’ Poppy took his hand and they walked through the kitchen and into a hallway and up some stairs. All the walls seemed to be white and the floor and stairs left bare stone. Flin’s room had two single beds, but even at that stage Flin was deaf to any alarm bells ringing. In the corner was a tiny sink and in front of the beds were two huge windows with wooden shutters.

      ‘Are you going to be OK in here?’ she asked, kissing him lightly on the shoulder. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come! Now, come down whenever you’re ready but I’ve got to go and help Mummy with the supper,’ and off she went.

      Supper was quite lively, and it became clear to Flin that Liz liked good conversation with plenty of discussion and interesting debate. This was better than awkward silences, but Flin felt constrained by the fact that his conversation should be intelligent and pertinent at all times. Donald, Poppy’s father, spoke very softly, but seemed to be so revered by everyone that as soon as he opened his mouth everybody else immediately shut up and listened keenly to what the old sage had to say. He appeared to be rather amused by his strident wife; in fact he seemed rather amused by everything, demonstrated by the faintest hint of a perma-smile and a frequently raised eyebrow. Whilst a heated discussion about the value of television took place, Flin decided to keep quiet and assess the gathering. Alice and George were an item and had a room in the main house, which Donald and Liz clearly had no objection to, while Max and Charlie, who were also a twosome, had a room in one of the outhouses. Only then did it occur to Flin that he and Poppy were the only ones not sharing a room, and he began to feel just the tiniest bit irked. But then, he supposed, he was the last to arrive, and so put the matter out of his mind.

      The meal seemed to last an aeon, and Flin began to feel increasingly frustrated. He was desperate to talk to Poppy on his own and to steal some kisses al fresco; Sussex revisited, but beneath an Italian moon. Eventually, after the coffee had been drunk and after helping to wash up, Flin excused himself and went outside for a cigarette. Poppy followed and at last the two of them were together and alone. He took her hand and kissed her soft cheek.

      ‘I can’t believe I’m here and that we’ve got over a week to go,’ he told her as they strolled down the steps into the garden. There was a pause. Poppy suddenly seemed quite unaccustomedly embarrassed. All at once, Flin knew what was coming.

      ‘Flin, I don’t want you to be angry, but Mark and I patched things up in Scotland. We did a lot of talking and I think I’ve got to give it another chance.’

      He absolutely couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

      ‘I mean, it’s not as if we could have got up to much with my parents here anyway.’

      Couldn’t they? What was she on about? Of course they could! Why invite him otherwise? Did she honestly think he’d come all this way just to be told that she’d decided, after all, that she wanted to stay with someone, who was, by her own admission, a total shit? Flin reeled. What could she be thinking? Had she gone completely insane?

      He took a long drag on his cigarette. Outwardly calm, his mind was racing in a panic. With eight full days to go, he desperately needed to be rational. If he said what he actually thought, life would become even more difficult. She was offering friendship. If he turned that down, he would be in even worse trouble. He took a deep breath.

      ‘It’s a long way to come to be told that,’ he said with as much dignity as he could muster. ‘But this is a fantastic place and we are going to have fun, fun, fun with a capital F,’ he said, smiling weakly. Thank God it was dark.

      ‘We can still spend all our time together,’ she said, hugging his arm and warming to the fact that her announcement had been so painless. ‘I’m sorry though, and I do think you are gorgeous. You’ll be better off with someone far nicer than me.’

      He felt sick. This was a monumental disaster, and there was absolutely no escape.

       chapter four Geordie and Jessica have Dinner at Tommy Byng’s

      Jessica was just about to go and run her bath when Geordie finally walked through the door. As always (and it was no different now they had moved to the new house), he immediately asked Jessica whether there was any post or messages for him.

      ‘Just some bills and a couple of messages for Flin from Josh,’ she told him, without looking up from her magazine. And as always, he pressed the answerphone anyway.

      ‘Yo, big man!’ said Josh’s voice. ‘I’ve got your new number. Nice one. I need someone to get drunk with and you’re the name I’ve pulled out of the hat. Call me immediately.’

      The second message was even more concise: ‘Of course you’re not there – you’re getting laid in Italy you little Julio. Forgot. Ignore that last message.’

      Geordie sighed. ‘No calls, no decent letters – not even a postcard from Flin.’

      ‘Poor you, how trying,’ replied Jessica, looking up at him. ‘Get yourself a drink and then come here and calm down.’

      A short while later, Jessica had made it into her bath and was testing a new body scrub when the phone rang.

      ‘Hello,’ said Geordie, picking up the receiver in an instant.

      ‘Geordie, hi, how’s things?’

      ‘Flin! What are you doing calling? Where’s our postcard?’

      ‘I’ve only been gone four days. Give me a chance. Just thought I’d see how you guys are, you know … How’s our house?’

      ‘Great – I’ve painted the bathroom now and put up a new cabinet. What about you? How’s the holiday of love?’

      ‘Um, good, thanks. Really good. Great.’

      Flin was being very odd, Geordie thought. Hardly very enthusiastic at all. ‘Flin, are you OK?’

      ‘Yeah, yeah, fine.’ Flin paused. ‘Listen, Geordie, is Jessica there?’

      ‘In the bath,’ Geordie told him, ‘why?’

      ‘Oh nothing – it doesn’t matter. Look, I’m running out of money – I’ll see you next week, OK? Have fun.’

      Geordie immediately padded upstairs to tell Jessica.

      ‘Something has definitely gone wrong, the poor lamb,’ Jessica said through the bathroom door. ‘I knew that girl was a cow.’

      ‘He sounded very weird,’ Geordie confirmed as he stood on the landing, leaning against the bathroom door. ‘Not himself at all.’

      ‘Well, let’s hope he manages to resolve it, whatever it is,’ said Jessica, splashing.

      Geordie nodded. ‘He’s always fallen in love too easily.’

      ‘I don’t think he’s ever been in love actually. I think it’s more that he thinks he is.’

      ‘Maybe.’

      There was a short contemplative silence between them and then Jessica said, ‘Oh, dear – and this body scrub is hopeless. I’ll probably discover it’s scarred me for life. Geordie, my love, what’s to become of us?’

      Geordie didn’t bother to answer. Although he was loath to admit it to himself, he felt pretty low.

      Still, at least that night he and

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