Page 71 of Oz
I shake my head. “Nope. It’ll seem too confining in a theatre after Minack.” He looks extraordinarily pleased and I carry on hurriedly. “Where are we staying?”
“In a hotel? There’s a nice one in Knightsbridge.”
I take a glug of Jack Daniels and my thoughts whirl.Am I really going to do this? I think of James and his disdain for my upbringing, Jasper who barely concealed his astonishment and some of the others, and my mind is made up. It’s a test and I know he’ll fail. It’s awful of me but it might be the jumpstart I need to get my life going when I get back to London. I’ve done nothing so far, as if in my head I’m staying with him eternally.
“Why don’t we stay with my mum?”
I thought he’d be horrified and polite, but instead he grins. “Really? She won’t mind?”
I shrug awkwardly. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, she’d go barmy if I didn’t go home when I was in London, and you don’t want to risk the wrath of an Irish woman.”
He laughs. “Okay then. Give her a ring and arrange it. Shall we say Tuesday?”
I nod, incapable of coherent speech. I settle for looking at the old game. “Is this like bowling?”
He steps back and grins. “Sort of. It’s Kayling. It’s been played in Cornwall for at least five hundred years.”
“Oh, that explains why I’ve heard this called the Kayling Lawn?”
He nods. “The skittles are called by their Cornish name, kayles. The ball is called a cheese.” He points at the two groupings of baluster-shaped skittles. “This is a really old set.”
I laugh. “I’m trying to imagine a game of cosmic bowling like they do at home. We could paint them neon and play trance music.”
A shadow chases across his face when I mention home, but he smiles. “I will even provide you with clown shoes that give you a foot fungus to make the experience truly worthwhile.” I laugh and he shrugs. “Bowling used to be restricted by law to the rich, but the locals always used to come here and have a game when I was little.”
“Your father let the peasants that near the house?”
“He locked the windows and had a constable on duty,” he says in a snooty voice and I throw my head back and laugh, feeling my worries melt away. “Fancy a game?” he asks and there’s a glint in his eye.
“Why am I getting nervous?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re shit and you don’t want me to know.”
I laugh. “Trash talking. Really, Silas?”
He nods. “It’s the only way to do it.”
He looks up at the sky, which is a deep blue shot through with red, and taps his finger against his lips in a thinking pose which is belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “Why don’t we make this interesting?”
“How?”
“Strip Kayling.”
“What thefuck?” I laugh loudly. “Oh my God, have you no shame? This is a part of yourheritage.”
He shrugs. “So is interbreeding and alcoholism. Well?”
I straighten. My competitive nature is raising its head. “Okay, what are the rules?”
“The one who knocks over the least amount of kayles with one throw of the ball has to lose one item of clothing. The winner gets to ask a question of their choice and the loser has to answer honestly.”
I stare at him. “That’s extraordinarily detailed for an off-the-cuff game. You’ll be telling me next that you’ve got membership cards printed out.”
“Only little ones, but they are laminated very nicely. And you’ll get the hang of the words to the club song when you’ve sung it once.”
I laugh. “I’m quite sure this never happens in crown green bowling.”
He grins. “You on?”
