Page 44 of Boy Friends
‘We should make our way to the train station or we’ll be stuck here for the night.’
On the train back, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve not been fair to Jacob. I’ve barely asked him anything about himself. Instead, I’ve been stuck in my own head. He, on the other hand, has been attentive and charming. I must suck as a date.
If you can even call it that. I have zero dating experience. How am I meant to know the difference between hanging out and dating? I mean, yes, Jacob is attentive, and cute, and I like being around him. But I’m already struggling with my feelings for one boy; I don’t need another to add to the confusion.
As I stare into the darkness that’s fallen outside, I catch his eye in the reflection of us, two ghost boys mirrored in a train window.
‘You know, all day I’ve been wanting to ask this, but I’vebeen too shy,’ he begins, glancing from my mirror image to the real me sitting next to him. My heart sinks, like it does every time I have to fend off questions about my friendship with Simo.
‘It’s a little intimate, but . . . would you let me take your picture?’
‘Oh,’ I say, flattered and self-conscious. ‘I guess, why not?’
‘What do you mean, why not?’ Dad retorts with trembling nostrils. ‘I have no plans to expand my business. Need I remind you that I have a house to pay off?’
Graham swirls the ice cubes in his crystal glass, leaving Dad to fume in silence. ‘You don’t generate wealth by sitting on your pennies like a mother hen,’ he says eventually.
I guess this is our routine now. Lunches turn into heated family matches: Brandenburg vs Dean. Whoever holds on to their composure the longest wins. I try not to take sides.
‘Says the man who only barely scraped by when his business went bankrupt. Twice.’
Point for Dad though. We’re having dessert, which is when they drop all efforts to make shallow but polite conversation and pull out the big guns.
‘Don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about, Matthew,’ Anna jumps in. ‘You weren’t even born when your father reinvented the family business. It took a tumble, but it paid off in the end.’
‘Because you bailed him out,’ Dad reminds her.
‘And that’s why you should never put all your eggs in one basket. If one investment fails, another will pay the difference.’
‘A massive inheritance helps too,’ Dad says with a snort.
‘Oh, don’t you judge. That money paid for your clothes, food and education,’ Anna reprimands him. A point for her.
‘You mean it paid for the staff and nannies that provided my clothes, food and education,’ Dad says.
Graham bangs his glass down on the table. ‘That’s enough,’ he says and presses a palm into his chest, as if to calm his heartbeat. ‘I’ve had enough.’
I try to look anywhere but at my feuding relatives. We’re now taking meals in the dining hall, which is as extra as it sounds. It has an ornate fireplace as tall as myself, and the walls are dark wood panelling with a floor to ceiling tapestry that shows humans frolicking in nature, and far too many peacocks.
Anna is the first to speak again. ‘We won’t be around next week. Your grandfather and I have to travel back to check on the business – only to ensure that everything is running as it should without us.’
‘It won’t be too stressful?’ I ask, over Dad’s audible sigh of relief. A glance at Graham tells me that he’s still battling his temper. I’ve not forgotten about his stroke, and I’m starting to wonder whether moving closer to his son will have been beneficial for his blood pressure.
Anna’s expression softens. ‘We’re only making sure that things are running smoothly in our absence. It’s social calls, a soiree, that sort of thing.’ Her expression brightens further. ‘You could join us sometime. Escape the small-town life, see something taller than a lighthouse, go shopping in a supermarket that offers more than one brand of ketchup.’
‘When was the last time you saw a supermarket from theinside? Or had ketchup?’ Dad asks incredulously. In fairness, I struggle to picture Anna with a shopping cart full of veg as she stops in front of a shelf to pick condiments.
She waves his questions away. ‘You’re missing the point. A boy can’t remain on the street he grew up on all his life. If you ever want to see something new, your grandfather and I would love to make it happen. There’s a charity ball in the new year that we could take you to. It’ll be fun!’
The idea of going away with my grandparents is daunting. A lunch is one thing, a brief couple of hours in which I’m mostly busy eating amazing food. But spending an extended period of time with them? I wouldn’t know what to expect. On the other hand, I’m intrigued to see my grandparents in their natural habitat. I wonder if they watch TV and fall asleep snoring. Plus, Anna isn’t wrong. Before I went to Granada, I’d never left the country. Going away can be nice. It makes you appreciate home even more.
‘I’d like that,’ I say eventually.
Everyone’s focus shifts to Dad, who is busy turning his chocolate soufflé into expressionist art. Or is pretending to be. When he looks up, he wears a poker face.
‘What’s the question?’ he asks innocently.
‘We’re taking Luca to the charity ball in the new year,’ Anna repeats.
