Page 46 of How to Kill Your Rival

Do you have food?

There’s half a block of cheddar and something in a Tupperware that’s gone a terrible shade of green.

Eliza

What do you think?

Fraser

I’ll bring Chinese.

He arrives forty minutes later with two carrier bags and a Maggie close behind him. I almost close the door when Maggie’s four-legged gargoyle springs out of nowhere.

‘Jeez. Gaston. You could fell an army with that face.’ I bend down and scoop up the floofy rat-dog, scrubbing his chest. ‘How long are you staying in London?’ I ask.

‘A few days,’ he says.

‘Doing what?’

‘Things.’

‘What things?’

‘Things,’ he stresses, throwing himself onto my sofa after dumping the bags on the coffee table.

‘Where have you been hiding?’ Maggie asks me while grabbing some plates and cutlery.

‘Right here.’

Maggie’s brow knits. ‘Are you okay?’

‘You know what it’s like… the Council’s been stressing me. And there’s been no contracts either. All too quiet for my liking.’ I sit next to Fraser and plop Gaston on the couch beside me.

Fraser looks at Gaston.

Gaston drools at the smell of the chicken balls.

Fraser moves six inches left before reaching for the bags.

Maggie passes the plates around while Fraser opens containers, burning himself on the plume of steam and wincing. I wash Gaston’s fur from my hands and fetch some wine. We end up sitting on the floor, gathered around the coffee table, stuffing ourselves with delicious, delicious MSG.

‘Do you remember the Bellingham summer party?’ Maggie asks, halfway through a spring roll. ‘The fountain one.’

‘Which party?’ Fraser asks.

‘You were just little,’ Maggie and I say together, before laughing.

Fraser points a prawn cracker at me. ‘You always say that. You’re only five years older than me.’

‘You were such a cute wee thing.’ Maggie elbows him before taking a sip of the wine and making a face.

‘You don’t have to drink that,’ I say.

‘Do you have anything else?’ she asks.

‘Negative.’

‘Then I’ll power through.’ Maggie takes another sip.