The Witch Elm - Tana French Page 0,128

in his glasses, “—they’ve always been like this—” aside to Melissa, who was laughing too, sunshiny in a yellow dress. I threaded my fingers through hers on the table and gave her hand a squeeze.

“At least I’m not a fat bastard,” Dec said, to Sean.

Sean stuck out his belly and gave it an affectionate pat. “All muscle.”

“Jesus, dude,” I said. “You’d want to get onto that or you won’t fit into your wedding dress.”

“He won’t fit into the wedding photos—”

They had brought Hugo presents, the same way they had brought me presents in the hospital: fancy chocolates, books, DVDs, Armagnac—even I had forgotten that he liked Armagnac, but Dec had a long story about how when we were fifteen we had raided the booze cupboard and practically killed ourselves on swig after massive swig of it, no one willing to be the one who backed out: “Toby looked like he was about to explode, bright red, tears coming out—I called him a big pussy-boy, excuse the language, and went for it, right? next thing I know the room’s actually going round, I thought I was having a brain hemorrhage— I know you knew, Hugo, the three of us were gee-eyed, but fair play to you, you never said a word—”

“Well,” Hugo said, smiling, leaning sideways to fumble the bottle out of the present bag, “now you can have all the Armagnac you like, and enjoy it properly. Toby, would you fetch glasses?”

Sean and Dec got up with me, to clear the table. “The garden’s in bits,” I said, nodding towards the doors as I passed. “We’ve been trying to put stuff back in, but I think we might actually be making it worse.”

“It’ll grow back,” Sean said. “A load of grass seed, bunch of wildflower seeds . . .”

We hadn’t mentioned Dominic all evening. Sean and Dec had stayed far from it: asked Hugo about how he was feeling and how his treatment was going, told funny stories about work, Sean had pulled up phone snaps of his and Audrey’s engagement party (“Oh my goodness, look at her, all grown up, I’m still picturing a little slip of a thing with braces . . .”). I had been biting my tongue hard, twitching with impatience for the right moment, and I couldn’t afford to wait any longer: for all I knew Sean and Dec were planning on leaving right after the Armagnac. “That hole there,” I said. “That was the tree where . . . That big elm, remember?”

Dec paused, with a handful of plates, to look out. “Sort of. The detectives asked me that. Someone told them I’d been up there, at a party? Singing ‘Wonderwall’?”

“Probably Susanna,” I said.

“Tell her thanks a bunch from me. I remember being up a tree singing, all right—Jesus, I must’ve been fluthered—but I’m not an arborist, know what I mean? It could’ve been an elm or an oak or a bleeding Christmas tree for all I know.”

“I think that must’ve been Leon’s birthday,” I said—I had no idea whether that was true or not. “The detectives went on about it a lot. They wanted to know who was there.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had Armagnac,” Melissa said, leaning towards Hugo to examine the bottle. “What’s it like?”

“I’ll tell you what it’s like,” Sean said, over his shoulder from the sink. “It’s like a gorgeous woman, right? absolute stunner? who has a black belt in karate. If you treat her right, she’ll make you feel like you’re the king of the world. But if you don’t give her proper respect, she’ll kick seven shades of shite out of you. I can still feel the hangover.”

Hugo was laughing. “If you’ve had cognac,” he said to Melissa, “it’s a bit like that, only richer; earthier. It’s powerful stuff, all right, if you’re fifteen and swigging right out of the bottle, but this is a wonderful one; bound to be smooth as butter. These boys don’t do things by halves.”

They didn’t want to talk about Dominic. “I was shag-all use to the detectives,” I said. “I got the feeling they thought I was messing them around, but actually the problem is I haven’t got a clue about the party, due to my memory being pretty thoroughly fucked.” In the sudden stillness I gave a small wry shrug, keeping my eyes on the glasses I was putting in front of Hugo, so I wouldn’t have to see anyone’s face. It made my stomach lurch even to touch on

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