Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,6
when in reality, you usually just walk out into a building site.
When I spy the huge Amsterdam sign, I brighten. I thrust my phone at Jack. “Quick, take my picture.”
He smiles and waves me in front of the sign with the phone poised. I strike a funny pose by the letter “A.” His smile dies slightly when fifty tourists take the opportunity to wander across the shot. And then more and more. Finally, he manages one just as my leg is starting to get pins and needles.
I hobble back to him as a very beautiful girl comes over, all legs and shiny brown hair. She says something in Dutch to Jack who looks politely bewildered. “Would you like me to take a photo of the two of you?” she asks in English, smiling at both of us.
“Oh.” Jack hesitates. “There’s no need.”
“Yes, please,” I say fervently and snatch the phone off him to present it to the girl.
He grins at me and throws his arm over my shoulder. “Okay then, smile.”
I nestle closer, under the pretence of getting in the shot, and relish the weight of his arm and the smell of his cologne. He smells like Jack. Wonderful and sexy and somehow home. I’m just toying with sniffing his neck to get a bigger fix of his scent, when the girl hands the phone back.
“You make a lovely couple,” she says kindly. “You look very right together.”
“Oh no, we’re not together,” I say immediately. “He’s my brother’s best friend.”
She smiles. “Ah, my mistake.”
I thank her for the photo, and she vanishes back into the crowd. I look down at my phone and smile. The funny thing is, she’s right. We do look good together, his dark hair and brown eyes a nice contrast to my chestnut waves and boring grey eyes. Of course, his hair is immaculate, while my unruly locks make me look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Three times. I’m also as pale as a vampire, while he looks tanned and handsome. With his arm draped around me, and his contrasting height and broad shoulders, he looks protective and somehow more content than usual.
I look up and find Jack watching me with a very strange expression on his face. When he sees me looking at him, he smiles quickly, the rogue expression vanishing behind his usual peaceful façade.
“Shall we go and find the car that the hotel sent for us?” he says blandly. I stare after him for a second and then make haste to shove the phone in my pocket and follow him.
The car turns out to be a Mercedes and our driver is a man called Pieter. He’s tall and thin and very dapper with dark, slick-downed hair. He piles our luggage into the boot and ushers us into the car, pointing out the bottles of water and packets of nuts waiting for us.
As he rounds the car to get into the driving seat, I turn to Jack. “Just exactly how posh is this hotel?” I whisper. “You don’t get this service with a Travelodge.”
“It’s very expensive,” he says. “Haven’t you paid yet?”
“I haven’t actually paid for any of this,” I say, my face flushing. “I’m bowed down with student loans, and Tom said he was paying.”
“Well, of course, he would,” he says sincerely, easing my embarrassment. “He wants his brother with him when he proposes to his boyfriend.”
I smile. “Only Tom would take the act of proposing to his boyfriend and make it into a three-ring circus accompanied by his best friend, his brother, and Fred the Pisshead.”
“I’m sure Fred was christened something else,” Jack says wryly. “Or the vicar would have had a fit.”
“What is his real name?” I ask curiously. “He’s been Fred the Pisshead since you two brought him home from uni in the first year, and he threw up in the kitchen and burnt a hole in mum’s sofa when he passed out smoking a cigarette.”
“He’s actually Fred Montgomery.” He winces. “I’m still amazed he was ever invited back to your house.”
“I’m not. Have you met my dad? He says Freddy’s funny, and he values that more than academic qualifications.”
“It’s a shame that he wasn’t Fred’s career adviser, then, because that lady was definitely not impressed by his degree.”
“Good job he’s employed by his dad, then.”
He shrugs. “Freddy’s calmed down now and doing incredibly well. His dad’s really proud of him. Thinks the sun shines out of his arse.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I still can’t