you're
driving—"
"Nah. Like I said, I'm cool." He looked it, cucumber cool in
all that black whilst I felt unnaturally hot and oppressed by
the air in the flat.
I followed him into the living room where, to my surprise,
Grainger was submitting to a head scratching. It could only
be a matter of time before fingers were lost. "How's the new
car?"
"Pure kick-ass." Piers left Grainger and whirled to the
window, all long-limbed animation like a Quentin Blake
cartoon come to life. "There, see? The yellow Porsche? Hey,
why don't you come for a drive, Alys? We could shoot through
to the coast, top down, catch some sea air?" He was talking
without looking at me, couldn't take his eyes off the car.
"Oh." I hesitated, a quick Thelma and Louise moment
flashing before my eyes as I saw myself zipping along a coast
road next to Piers, top off. Off the car, obviously, not off
Piers. "Better not. I've got stuff to do. And there's a book I
want to read." I glanced apologetically towards Theo.
Grainger was stomping across his cover trying to attract
22
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
Piers's attention again by chewing the cushions, mugging like
Jack Nicholson in a small fur coat.
"Well, okay. But, look." He'd dropped his gaze again,
hands in the pockets of his jacket, awkward as a teenager. "I
really need to talk to you sometime. It's just family stuff, but
I don't know who else I can go to with this shit."
"Really? But I don't know anything about your family." I
felt a bit strange having this conversation. A bit wrong footed.
My memory had Piers down as a teenager, but here he was,
very obviously an adult. Making adult conversation.
"It's Ma and Alasdair. It's getting kinda heavy." Once more
he met my eyes, and I found myself wondering, not for the
first time, how blue-eyed, epitome-of-WASPness Tamar had
managed to produce such a sultry-eyed son. "Please, Alys.
I've always been able to talk to you."
"It's—"
"Please." This time soft, fractured. The faint twang of his
American parentage crept in around the vowels, made him
sound vulnerable.
"Oh, all right." Aware that I'd sounded ungracious, and he
really did look unsettled, I added, "If there's anything I can
help with."
"How about tomorrow? I told Florence I'd bring her back
here after school."
"Um. Tomorrow might be tricky. I have my book group on
a Monday night." Because something about his straight stare
made me feel like filling in uncalled-for detail I began to
gabble. "It was my turn to choose, you see, and I gave them
Dead Air . I really want to know what they think."
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Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
"Your book group." Piers gave a tiny grin. "Is that the one
where everyone's over eighty?"
"No, Mrs. Treadgold's only seventy-three. And I'm"—well,
thirty-six actually, but damned if I'd admit it—"not eighty
either."
"And you gave them Dead Air ? Shit, Alys, they've probably
all had coronaries. Do you know how many fucks there are in
that book?"
"Never counted. So, anyway, tomorrow would be tricky."
He gave me an odd sideways smile and pushed pale silver-
ringed fingers through his unAryan hair. "I'll give you a lift.
Pick you up at eight."
And he was gone in a blur of blackness, flinging himself
out of the front door and down the stairs with an energy
which almost crackled. Despite myself, I found I was
watching from the window as the Porsche roared away down
the street.
A momentary pang—a drive to the coast would have been
nice—then I shook my head and settled myself back down
with Theo.
[Back to Table of Contents]
24
Slightly Foxed
by Jane Lovering
Chapter Three
Jacinta was unlocking the door when I arrived at Webbe's
next morning. "Simon says he is not coming in today. He is
'busy'." She stooped to pick up the post. I gave a deep sigh.
"You need new clothe," Jace diagnosed as we went round
flipping switches. "Several new clothes. Always make me feel
better when I am depressing. Without