Page 147 of Pansies

“Oh, and there’s a Chardonnay in the fridge,” he said, as he forked through the couscous to make it fluffy.

Greg jumped up from the table and went to get it. “Um, I’m seeing…bottles.”

“The 2010?”

“Still seeing bottles.”

“The Kongsgaard?” Alfie sighed. “It’s got a picture of two blokes carrying enormous grapes. In a sort of stained-glass effect?”

“See, why couldn’t you just say that?”

At last they settled down to eat. And it really wasn’t the worst tagine in London. Alfie blushed a little at the praise, even if it was uttered in slightly shocked voices, and proudly explained that the dish contained cumin, coriander, ginger, cinnamon, saffron, and turmeric. Which was why the vegetables didn’t taste like crap. When they were done, they took a second bottle of Two Blokes Carrying Enormous Grapes over to the worst sofa in the world and relaxed as best they could.

Kitty took off her shoes, which were fearsomely spiky, and curled up against Charles. “You know, this is really nice. Thank you, Alfie. Why don’t we do this?”

“Because none of us can be arsed to cook.” Greg cast a slightly suspicious look at Alfie. “Though that might change now Stepford Bell moves amongst us.”

“Actually…” It was probably as good a moment as any. Alfie put his wine down, oddly nervous, even though he was sure he had no reason to be. But, then, he’d spent the last five days rattling around in his own head. Talking about stuff made it a whole lot realer. “Actually, there might be some other changes. See, I’m thinking of quitting my job.”

He waited for a reaction.

“Well, that seems quite sensible,” said Kitty, eventually. “Your job always sounded dreary.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Just kind of don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“But”—Greg gazed at him, wide-eyed, a little sad—“what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t think I’ll stay in London.”

“You’ll not go too far?”

Alfie went for his wine again, letting the light play through the liquid until it shone as gold as Fen.

“You’re going back up north, aren’t you?” It was barely a question. “To…whatshisname.”

“Fen. And no. That’s not an option.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m bad for him.”

Greg exploded into a derisive laugh. “Impossible. In dating terms, you’re a superfood.”

“A stupid fad that everyone will have forgotten in about five minutes?”

“Excellent for your health and well-being.” Greg scowled, an expression that made him look like a grumpy mouse. “I can’t believe he said that to you. I knew my irrational dislike was justified.”

“Um. He didn’texactlysay that.”

“So what did he say?”

“He…he said he loved me. And he wanted me to stay in South Shields with him.”

Greg stared.

Alfie rushed to explain, “But it was only because he’s messed up about his mum dying and stuff.”

Greg was still staring.

---