Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,39

can’t propose now, can I? I mean, how am I supposed to do it with Steven looking at me like he’s comparing the size of the ring to the size of my dick?” He takes deep breaths, as though he’s attempting yogic calm. “I won’t be able to do it today in front of Steven.”

“Won’t be able to do what?” Bee says from behind us. This time it’s all three of us who jump. We turn to face him, and he laughs. “What the hell are you three up to? You look guilty as hell.” He leans forward. “What can’t you do in front of Steven?” he whispers.

“Oh erm…” Tom throws me an imploring look, and I roll my eyes.

Tom has never been able to think on the fly. He likes to take his time. It’s one of the reasons he got caught so much as a kid. While our sister Sally and I had endless ready excuses, Tom would just gape like a fish. Not that any of our excuses were ever believed, anyway. We all used to get into trouble, regardless.

“He can’t go for a wee in front of Steven,” I say, paying back Tom for the cockblocking.

“I can’t do what?” Tom snaps.

Jack snorts with laughter.

I say in a sweet voice, “He’s got performance anxiety because he’s very worried about the size of his tiny penis.”

Bee pats Tom on the arm. “It’s not that small,” he says in a sympathetic voice. “It’s what you do with it that counts, Tom.”

“I beg your pardon,” he says in an affronted tone and then grimaces as we all break into laughter. “Fuckers,” he says in a tone of great disgust that sets us off even more.

Freddy comes up and throws his arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Can we please sit down at the table and keep Steven away from Diana before she disembowels him with a soup spoon?” he mutters.

“Diana?” Jack says in disbelief. “But she’s so sunny.”

Freddy shrugs. “Fucker told her that her hair colour was too harsh for a woman in her late twenties.” He shoves Jack gently towards Steven, who has his nose so high in the air he could be sniffing the roof. “That one’s all yours,” he says.

Jack sneaks a look at me that I pretend not to see. My heart is pounding heavily. Is Bee right?

My brother breaks into my thoughts. “A tenner says that Diana goes for him before dessert.”

I give a reluctant chuckle. “Are you kidding? She’ll kill him with the rolled-up menu before we’ve even ordered.”

We all settle down at the table. I sit next to Diana and opposite Freddy. Jack starts to take the seat next to me, but Steven pulls out the chair next to him. “Your seat is here,” he says.

We all look at Jack, whose nostrils are flaring rather dramatically. However, his inherent good manners kick in, and obviously deciding not to make a scene, he settles into the seat.

He’s directly in my line of sight, and when he looks up our eyes tangle for a wild second. He bites his lip, and I wonder if his mind is replaying what we did last night. I stare down at my plate for a second and then look determinedly at Diana.

“What are you having for lunch?” I ask.

“Well, I was going for lasagne, but now I’m considering Botox,” she says, glaring at Steven.

“I wouldn’t bother,” I advise. “He never notices other people’s feelings. It’s his superpower.”

“I wonder if his superpower would wake up and take notice if I stuck a breadstick up his nose.”

“Well, you might have opportunity. His nose is in the air a lot.”

She giggles and shoves me gently, her natural good humour restored. Her temperament seems very much like Freddy’s sunny disposition.

We chat and laugh while waiting for the food, generally trying to ignore the fact that Steven is sitting glowering at Jack. Eventually, the food comes, and, as Jack excuses himself from the table to go to the loo, Steven sits forward.

“So, you’re still teaching, then, Arlo?” he asks.

I eye him warily as the waiter puts the plates of food down on the table. “Yes,” I say slowly. “Still teaching.”

“And what age are your students?”

“Erm, they’re five and six.”

“Ah, so not so much students, as babies.”

I roll my eyes. “Babies would really struggle with the maths lessons, but yes, they are small. I like teaching that age group.”

“Yes, but surely you’re just more of a glorified babysitter,” he says sweetly. He claps a hand to his