The Flatshare(72)

‘Go! Go! Talk!’ I tell Rachel as we step into the safety of the kitchen.

‘Well. You know that illustrator I commissioned for our bricklayer-turned-designer’s second book, who’s a Lord Somebody?’

‘Sure. Lordy Lord Illustrator,’ I say. This is how Rachel and I refer to him.

‘Well, Lordy Lord has come up with literally the perfect solution for Katherin’s photoshoot.’

Marketing now want to showcase the products from Katherin’s book. The mainstream media have been reluctant to come on board – they still don’t quite get how YouTubers like Tasha Chai-Latte’s words translate into sales – so we’re going to fund the shoot and ‘seed it across social’. Tasha has promised to share on her blog, and, with just over one week to go until pub date, Marketing and PR are having periodic meltdowns about getting the shoot organised.

‘He owns a Welsh castle,’ Rachel finishes. ‘In Wales. That we can use.’

‘You’re serious? For free?’

‘Absolutely. This weekend. And, because it’s so far to drive, he’s said he’ll put us up for Saturday night! In the castle! And the best part is, Martin can’t drop me because I’m just the designer . . . because Lordy Lord Illustrator is insisting that I bring Katherin!’ She claps her hands with glee. ‘And you’ll be coming, obviously, because Katherin won’t do anything unless you’re there to shield her from the horrors that are Martin and Hana. Welsh castle weekend! Welsh castle weekend!’

I shush her. She has started singing really quite loudly and doing some sort of castle dance (which is quite hip-shaky), and though we have ascertained that there are no senior members of staff in the kitchen, you never know when they’ll show up. It’s like that thing people say about rats – there’s always one six feet away from you at all times.

‘Now we just need to find models willing to work for free in two days’ time,’ Rachel says. ‘I almost don’t want to tell Martin. I don’t want him to start liking me or something. It’ll throw off the whole balance of the office.’

‘Tell him!’ I say. ‘This is a great idea.’

And it is. But Rachel’s right. Katherin won’t go without me, and that means a whole weekend away from home. I’d really hoped that I could spend some of the weekend with Leon. You know. Naked.

Rachel quirks an eyebrow, clocking my expression. ‘Ah,’ she says.

‘No, no, this is great.’ I try to rally. ‘A weekend away with you and Katherin is going to be hilarious. Plus – it’s a free castle visit! I’m going to pretend I’m scouting out my future home.’

Rachel leans back against the fridge, waiting for our teas to brew and watching me carefully. ‘You really like this boy, don’t you?’

I busy myself removing teabags. I do really like him, actually. It’s kind of scary. Nice-scary, on the whole, but also a bit scary-scary.

‘Well, bring him, then, so you don’t miss out on seeing him.’

I look up. ‘Bring him? How am I swinging that one with the Powers That Be in Charge of Transport Costs?’

‘Remind me what this stud looks like?’ Rachel says, shifting so I can get the milk from the fridge. ‘Tall, dark, handsome, with mysterious sexy smile?’

Only Rachel could say ‘stud’ without irony.

‘Reckon he’d model for free?’

I nearly spit out my first mouthful of tea. Rachel grins and passes me a paper towel to help with lipstick damage.

‘Leon? Model?’

‘Why not?’

‘Well . . . Because . . .’ He’d hate it, surely. Or . . . maybe not actually – he cares so little about what other people think, someone taking photos of him and putting them on the Internet probably wouldn’t bother him.

But if he did agree to it that would mean inviting him for a proper weekend away together – if a slightly unconventional one. And that definitely seems . . . serious. Relationship-ish. That thought makes my throat feel tight and starts a little flutter of panic in my stomach. I swallow the feeling away, irritated with myself.

‘Go on. Ask,’ Rachel insists. ‘I’m betting he’ll say yes if it means more time with you. And I’ll sort it with Martin. Once I give him this castle, he’ll be kissing my arse for days.’

*

It’s very tricky to know exactly how to broach this conversation. I initially thought it would come up naturally on the call, but oddly enough castles and/or modelling don’t come up at all, and now it’s seven forty and I’ve only got five minutes before I know Leon has to head in to work.

I’m not copping out of asking, though. Since the night when Justin turned up things with Leon have shifted; this is more than sexual tension and flirty Post-it notes now, and for some reason I’m finding that slightly terrifying. When I think about him I get this rush of unstoppable smiley joy chased with a sort of claustrophobic panic. But I suspect that’s probably a Justin hang-up, and frankly I’m done letting those hold me back.

‘So,’ I begin, pulling my cardigan closer around me. I’m on the balcony; it’s become my favourite spot for evening phone calls. ‘You’re free this weekend, right?’

‘Mmhmm,’ he says. He’s eating his brinner at the hospice while talking to me, so is even less chatty than usual, but I feel that will actually work to my advantage here. I think this proposal needs to be heard in full before it can be discussed.