Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,69

Tom saying that. I want it recorded for posterity.”

“You can’t take advantage of a friend when he’s pissed,” Jack says primly.

I shake my head. “Alright, Saint Jack, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“You are very right about everything, Arlo,” Tom slurs again.

“About what?” Bee says as he arrives at the table with Diana. His face is flushed, and he’s weaving on his feet slightly. “What’s Arlo right about?”

Tom stares at him for a long second and then gets ponderously to his feet. He staggers a bit and then steps backwards. “I’m fine,” he says reassuringly, although it’s a bit redundant as no one was actually asking.

“Are you sure, Tom? You’re actually shouting,” Bee says nervously.

“I am perfect,” he says.

But Bee’s right. He is a bit loud. He throws his arms out in a dramatic gesture that I haven’t seen since he was in the sixth form and fancied himself as the next Kenneth Branagh. He steps back again. “Or I would be if I had you.”

“You do have me,” Bee says in a confused voice. “Oh, Tom, do be careful. You’re a bit too close to the canal.”

“If I had your hand in—”

I think he means to take a step towards Bee, but he takes another step back. A fateful step back. He seems to hang in the air for a second, a puzzled expression on his face, and then he vanishes from view, his landing in the canal marked by a small splash.

“Shit,” Freddy says in a conversational tone.

“Oh, my God! Tom!” Bee shouts in a dramatic fashion that’s utterly unlike his normal pragmatic air. “He’s dead.”

“It’s okay,” Jack says.

We all ignore him and sprint over to the side, looking down and sagging with relief when we see Tom standing in the canal.

“The water isn’t that deep here,” Jack continues, coming to stand next to me. “It only comes to chest height. The boatman said it on our tour. Weren’t you listening?”

“No, I was handling your dick,” I say and smile affectionately at him. He grins and kisses me.

Bee says frantically, “Tom, come out. You’re soaking wet.”

“No,” he proclaims. “I give up.”

“What?” Bee screeches. “Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for.”

I regard Bee in disbelief. “He’s not talking about drowning himself,” I inform him.

“Then what is he on about?” Bee asks, thoroughly freaked out.

I roll my eyes. “Please just listen to him, or we’ll be here all night.”

“Thank you, Arlo,” Tom calls from the canal ponderously. “As I was saying, Bee, I give up. I planned this whole trip thinking I was going to get the perfect moment and now I know I don’t need it.”

“What on earth are you on about?” Bee says.

“Beethoven Amadeus Bannister, I’m trying to ask you to marry me,” he shouts.

“Jesus, is that your real name? No wonder you prefer Bee,” I say, but everyone ignores me.

“Oh my God,” Bee says, his hands to his mouth and tears in his eyes. “Really, Tom?”

He grins drunkenly. “Really, really, babe. I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

A car pulls up next to us, and flashing lights are reflected in the canal water. I inhale in joy at the sight of the two police officers. They wander over to stand next to us and stare down at my brother.

“Oh my God,” I say happily. “This is so epic. Tom’s totally going to be arrested.”

“I think it is time to come out, sir,” one of the policemen says. “It is very cold in there.”

“I’m warmed by the glow of my love,” Tom informs them solemnly, and I snort with laughter.

I turn to find Jack with his phone out videoing everything. “I thought that was against the best friend charter,” I say.

He shrugs. “Not when he’s making this big a tit of himself.”

“Well, sir,” the policeman says. “Love is a wonderful thing, but it does not prevent hypothermia.”

“I can’t come out,” Tom informs them autocratically. “Not until my beloved agrees to marry me.”

“Oh, Tom,” Bee squeals. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Tom’s path out of the canal is a lot less graceful than his entry, as it takes all three of us to haul him out. He’s immediately wrapped in blankets and escorted to the police car where he’s instructed to sit in order to warm up. Bee joins him, covering his face in kisses.

I look at the policeman. “Will you have to arrest him?” I ask hopefully.

He smiles. “No, sir, we have all been young and in love. And it’s Christmas.”

I shrug. “I suppose