Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,8

canal lined with narrowboats.

A liveried doorman approaches as we come to a stop, and my eyes widen. “I’m going to kill Tom. He said we were doing this cheap.”

“When did he ever do anything cheap?” Jack says. “It’s a good thing that his job pays well, or he’d have had to embark on a life of crime.”

“Not a successful one. I remember Mum marching him down to the corner shop when she found out that he’d nicked a bar of chocolate. He cried all the way there and all the way back.”

“I didn’t know that. How old was he?”

“Twenty-seven,” I say, tongue in cheek. Watching him laugh with pleasure is a joy. “Not really. He was eight. And that was the end of his life as a career criminal.”

“It’s a sad loss to the villain fraternity.”

I chuckle and climb out of the car, looking around avidly. All along the canal, streetlights are starting to come on. They’re old wrought-iron lights and give the whole place a Narnia-ish feel. Then the wind comes up in a sudden freezing gust, snapping the flag to attention in its flagpole.

I hasten to grab my messenger bag from Jack, who is watching me with an indulgent smile. “It’s so cold.” I shudder. “I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting that.”

He shoots a glance at the darkening sky. “I reckon we could have some snow,” he muses.

“Really?” I say excitedly and then sober. “Won’t the planes skid and crash on the runway?” I pause. “Maybe we could catch a train home instead,” I say hopefully. “Just to avoid the plane pile up.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his wide mouth. “Why don’t we just focus on celebrating you surviving the plane journey today, and save the worry about planes becoming dodgem cars for another day?”

I nudge him. “You’re so wise.”

The hotel’s warmth is almost shocking as we enter a very funky lobby. There’s a wooden floor and huge velvet sofas in bright primary colours, and the whole place smells of cinnamon. A display of bikes, all sprayed different colours, hangs on an old brick wall.

I hear my name being called, and I turn only to get swept up into a tight hug. I inhale the scent of Acqua Di Parma and relax into the embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” my brother says, pulling back and ruffling my hair.

I attempt a half-hearted glare as I try to smooth the wayward strands, but he just grins at me and hugs me again.

“Can’t breathe, Tom,” I finally gasp, and he pulls back. “Wow,” I say. “Last time we were this close, you were trying to murder me while telling Dad you were practising a wrestling hold.”

He grins at me. “We were kids, and I was doing a wrestling hold. The murdering you bit was just a happy coincidence.”

I laugh, and we smile at each other with affection. When we were kids, we argued like cats and dogs, but we’ve always been incredibly close, and I love him deeply. Love him and want to strangle him. I shrug. That’s brothers, I suppose.

We look vaguely similar with our grey eyes, but while his short, sleekly styled hair is a dark brown colour like my mum’s, my wavy mop is a reddish-brown. He sports a manly amount of designer stubble, and I couldn’t grow a beard if my life depended on it. I’ve seen more hair on a Sphynx cat than on my body.

He moves away to hug Jack, the two of them laughing at something. As friends, they’re a perfect match. Jack gives my brother some of his calm self-confidence, while Tom gives Jack a family of friends and relatives who are warm and utterly unlike Jack’s parents. The two men have stayed close through girlfriends and boyfriends, school and uni, and I doubt even an earthquake or a zombie apocalypse could separate them now.

“Alright, Arlo?”

I turn and smile at my brother-in-law, Bee. I’m calling him that in my head already, because I refuse to believe he won’t say yes to Tom. The two of them are made for each other. I hold out my arms, and we hug. “It’s so good to see you,” he says as he pulls back.

Bee’s bright blue eyes shine behind his dark-framed glasses, and when he smiles, the small gap between his front teeth gives him a gamin quality. “Tom is behaving very strangely.”

“Well, that’s normal. Not sure what you’re hoping I’ll be able to do about it.”

He shakes his head, the smile still