Page 92 of Short Stack 3

“Want me to wash your back?” he asks. He shoots me a naughty wink. “And your front.”

My thoughts drift away, replaced by the knowledge of what he looks like naked in the shower with the water flowing over his fine body. “Definitely,” I say, hearing his husky chuckle.

The bar is lovely. It’s wood-panelled and small, with old pictures on the wall whose colours have faded. It’s full and very loud, but the atmosphere is jolly. In fact, everywhere we’ve been, the atmosphere has been the same. The Dutch are very welcoming people.

The table is already full of empties, and I can tell this holiday is not going to be good for my liver. Even as I think this, Freddy comes back with another tray of shots, placing them carefully on the table with the attention to detail he shows when he’s pissed.

“Drink up,” he shouts.

I turn back to Jack. “So, I tried to get tickets for the Rembrandt exhibition, but it looks like they’re full.”

He draws himself away from his not-very-covert observation of Arlo and winks at me. “That’s sort of your theme at Christmas, isn’t it?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. It got me Tom.”

His smile softens. “And I’m incredibly pleased by that, Bee.”

I smile at him. He’s become one of my favourite people this year. He’s kind and simply wonderful.

He grins back at me, but it fades, and his eyes go wide as Tom says from behind me, “Bee Bannister?”

I spin around, but as I do, I knock Tom’s hand, and something flashes in the air and lands with a tiny splash in my drink.

“Oh mygod,” Arlo shouts.

“What was that?” I ask, craning my neck to see. What feels like a Mexican wave of amusement passes round the table. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Tom mutters, fumbling for my glass.

“What went in my drink?”

“Oh, it was—” Silence falls, and I stare at him. “—just a euro,” he finishes.

I blink as he sticks his finger in my drink, frantically fishing around, his face full of concentration.

“Are you actually getting it out?” I squeak. “It’s just a euro. I’ll buy another drink. You’ll get your finger stuck.”

“Oh my god, that would betrulyepic,” Arlo breathes. “Is there a real chance of that happening?”

Tom upends the glass, slamming his hand over the table. “Yes,” he says triumphantly.

I lick my lips. “Have you got the euro?” I ask.

He takes a deep breath. “Yes, I think so,” he says in a slightly high voice, then glares as Arlo breaks into laughter.

I consider questioning him but decide against it. I should expect a little quirkiness from this crowd. My companions smile as they all go back to talking and laughing. I can’t believe this time last year, we were sitting in a bar together but were complete strangers. Now, these people are some of my dearest friends and my favourites to be around. We’re just missing Sal and Ivy, who are away with work, and Theo and Georgina, who are on their honeymoon.

Grabbing my phone at that thought of absent friends, I slide out from under Tom’s arm and step out of the booth. “Where are you going to?” he asks.

“I’m just going to ring Ivy.”

“Really? Do you have to?” For some reason, he looks almost panicked.

“Yeah, I think I do,” I say slowly. “Why?”

“Oh.” He shakes his head. “No reason, babe. Give her my love and tell her toremember.” He says the final bit in the manner of someone who heads a crime family.

“Remember what?” I say in mystification.

---