Afterwards, they stood for photos on the steps, as the Saturday traffic roared down the Euston Road. There wouldn’t be any symmetry in those pictures, thought Charlie as he stood alone beside his sister, wishing that Beth could have come back this weekend. Ben’s family gathered on the other side. They were big and loud and, judging by the reek of alcohol coming from the two cousins standing closest, more than a little drunk already.
The pub on Marylebone High Street was still quiet as the rowdy party piled in, but soon the cousins were bellowing rugby songs and the room screeched with laughter and chat. It was fun for a while, to be carried on all that noise, and Charlie drank three pints before he started to wonder why Limpet still wasn’t there. He apologised his way between a group of older women who were deep in outraged conversation – Did you hear about the undertaker’s strike? Poor Bessie’s still waiting for her Albie to be buried. Can you imagine? – moving towards the payphone by the bar. He dialled, ready with his two-pence piece for when the pips went, but no one picked up. He pushed the coin back in his pocket, noticing how hot the pub had become. It was time he left. Behind him, someone thrust another pint into Ben’s hand, who roared with approval, peppering Charlie with spittle-spots as he passed. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Charlie kissed Annie on the cheek and squeezed her wrist. Seeing her grimace, he remembered the purple spread of bruise across her skin underneath, but she waved away his worried look.
‘It’s nothing, Charlie, honestly.’
Surprised by the daylight, he was blinking back the sunshine when Annie burst out of the pub and caught him by his arm, laughing. ‘But where are you going, Charlie?’
‘Going to find Limpet – he was supposed to be here, but he didn’t show. I’m going up to Biddy’s to see if he made it to work.’
‘Ah, Limpet, my long-lost love. He’s a fine man, that one.’
‘Annie, are you maybe a little bit drunk?’
She grinned and wound her arm through his, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss her hair and then gave her a gentle shove.
‘Go on now, off you go.’
She giggled, swaying slightly as she walked back through the door, the beery breeze from the pub buffeting her dress, its filmy whiteness clinging to her like a shroud.
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