Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,107
how your dog left you because you were so horrid. But Mrs Chalmers makes us watch it at the end of every term. Mr Phillips, the PE teacher, said that it’s because of you, but I don’t see how you could make her watch something if you don’t live here. Do you live here, though?”
“Bill,” Asa interjects. “Go put Molly away before she poos on you. I’ve had enough poo today.”
Billy gives a raucous chuckle and waves at us. “I liked it when you were hanging off that roof,” he shouts over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.
Asa shakes his head, and there’s a short silence before the three of us break into laughter. “Come and have a drink,” Asa urges us. “I think it’s best if you start drinking now and just carry on until your visit is finished.”
Before I can take a step, a small man with a remarkable resemblance to a gnome pops up next to me. I jump about a foot in the air.
“Afternoon, sir,” the man says in the gloomiest voice that I’ve ever heard.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, clutching my chest.
“Amos,” Asa sighs. “Please don’t creep up on people.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says ponderously. “I just thought I’d offer to take the gentlemen’s bags up to their room.”
“Oh no,” Gideon immediately protests. “We’re perfectly capable of carrying our own bags. I don’t want to put you out.”
“Ah,” he says. “That’s very kind of you, sir, to think of my feelings. Particularly at such a challenging time for you.”
“Challenging time?” Gideon looks wildly at me as if I’m going to be able to explain everything. I shrug.
“Well, with your career going up in flames. You must be feeling utterly dreadful and quite hopeless,” Amos says with a gloomy sort of relish. “Like there’s nothing left to live for.” Then he seizes the bags and with remarkable speed bears them up the stairs, leaving behind a stunned silence.
“Erm,” I say.
Gideon starts to laugh. “Oh shit,” he gasps. “That’s bloody priceless.”
I shake my head. “You’re the most contrary man that I’ve ever met.”
Asa grins. “Don’t mind Amos. Do you remember the advert that said they wouldn’t make a drama out of a crisis? Well, that’s not Amos. He’d totally make a crisis out of your drama.”
Gideon and I laugh and follow him into a long lounge filled with comfortable sofas and a window looking out on the sea. Stuffed-full bookcases are everywhere, and the walls are painted a vibrant lilac colour with the woodwork a navy blue.
Asa gestures us to one of the black velvet sofas and disappears to get coffee. I lean back into the cushions and look around. “This lounge is lush,” I murmur and Gideon nods, looking at me curiously. “What?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You just surprise me sometimes.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d like a minimal sort of life. You don’t carry much around with you.”
I laugh. “That’s because I’m moving from place to place with my job. I don’t need twenty tons of luggage while I’m doing that. Just a bag of clothes and my laptop and iPad which have all my books and music on them. If I were at home, I’d spread out a lot more. Although not as much as you.” I wink at him. “I don’t think there’s a house big enough to contain your mess if it goes unchecked.”
He sticks his middle finger up and wanders over to the shelves to peruse the books. I gaze at him fondly, feeling a fresh tenderness toward him as he pursues his new interest. Gid has turned into something of a bookworm since being in Cornwall. The other day he said he’d be ten minutes in Waterstones, and I finally tracked him down three hours later. He was curled up on one of their leather chairs, his long nose stuck in a book and a teetering stack of books next to him.
Asa comes back into the room and hands us our drinks. “Did you get the scripts?” he asks Gideon.
His face immediately lights up, all traces of nervousness long gone now. “I did,” he says enthusiastically. “They’re fucking brilliant.”
“Max is coming down tomorrow,” Asa says, and I remember that he’s Asa’s manager who Gideon wants to meet. “He’ll have all the paperwork with him for you to take away. Filming’s in Ireland, if that’s okay?”
“We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Eli?”
I jump at the mention of my name. “Oh, yes,” I say slowly. “Ireland’s supposed to be lovely.”
“I thought you could