Page 27 of In at the Deep End
When he got to the pool, he sat in a chair and typed.
Are you up yet?
About a minute later, the green call icon started bouncing, and he smiled as he clicked on it.
Eric appeared on the screen wearing a shirt and tie and holding a mug.
Matt grinned. “Don’t you look all respectable? Mr. Estate Agent. Gotta look the part, right?”
Eric rolled his eyes in response. He snorted. “A glorified key-holder, that’s what I am.” He smirked. “Well, look who’s finally remembered I exist.”
“I saw you a little over a week ago.”
“Eight days.”
“You counted?”
Another eye roll. “In this job, counting days between interesting conversations is practically a hobby.”
Matt laughed. “How’s glamorous Stirling?”
Eric pulled a face. “The castle’s still there. The tourists are still here. Mrs McIntyre still thinks her two-bedroom bungalow is worth half a million.”
“No change, then.”
“Pretty much.” Eric leaned closer to the camera. “Where are you?” Matt flipped the camera to reveal the pool. “Ooh, nice.” When Matt flipped it back, Eric cocked his head. “How’s dissertation hell?”
He grimaced. “I’ve reached the stage where I can’t tell whether I’m writing something insightful or complete bollocks.”
“What chapter are you on?”
“‘The reconstruction of masculinity in post-war British cinema.’”
Eric blinked. “You know, I ask every time, hoping one day you’ll say something normal.”
“It is normal.”
“No, Matt. Normal is ‘I’m writing about castles.’”
Matt grinned. “Been there, done that. I even have the T-shirt, as Dad would say.”
They both laughed.
“Are you missing Edinburgh?”
Matt smiled. “Every day.”
“Even the lectures?”
“Some of them.”
Eric snorted. “Liar.”
“Okay… not the eight a.m. medieval history ones.”
“Or Dr MacLeod reading directly from his notes.”
Matt laughed. “I still maintain he could’ve replaced himself with a recording and nobody would’ve noticed.”
