Page 74 of Love ad Lib
‘It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.’
Ping.
Lucas: Miss you, Lib-Lob. As does my stomach!
Fuck off!
Her phone rang.Henry.
‘Oh, thank goodness it’s you. I thought it might—er, um… We’ve finished at the hire shop, and you’ll love what I’ve chosen for you. But it’s a secret. You can’t see it until tomorrow night. Have you finished? Did you get everything you needed? Estelle said you were trying to buy a portcullis. Where are you now? Can we meet you?’Shut up!
‘Do you need a wet wipe for your verbal diarrhoea?’ Estelle asked.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Henry?’
‘I’m still here,’ he replied. ‘They were out of portcullises in the shop so I bought a drawbridge and moat. They’ve got boiling pitch and a dragon on back order for me. That ought to keep my family at bay.’
She giggled. ‘I think you need more than that to keep your twin sister out.’
‘Eh? What’s he saying?’ Estelle demanded. ‘Where the arse is he?’
‘Here,’ Henry replied from behind them.
Libby turned and met his smile with her own. Her heart leapt and she launched herself forward to hug him before realising what she was doing. Eight inches away and closing, she wondered if he would rather not have physical contact, and attempted to abort the manoeuvre. This resulted in an ungainly fall sideways, her arms locked beside her body. Henry reached for her, accidentally grabbing her breast, then froze and let go as if he’d touched a live wire. Libby stumbled into Estelle, who caught her before she hit the ground.
‘Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with the two of you?’ Estelle asked as she returned Libby to a vertical position. ‘How do you even manage to have sex? It must be like a couple of Morris dancers on a fucking trampoline.’ She did a demonstration, her legs and arms flailing, her mouth contorted as if in a wind tunnel.
Libby snorted and even Henry grinned.
Estelle stared at her brother. ‘Honestly, I know you don’t want to be like our parents. But if you’re that cack-handed you’re going to need to read Dad’s autobiography, or at least look at the pictures.’
Libby put her hands on her hips. ‘Estelle…’
‘Oops, oh yes, soz. I forgot no trash talk is allowed where my little brother is concerned. Right then, Casanova. Can I leave Libby with you? I have to get home and sort some shit out before tonight.’
‘Horse shit?’ Libby asked.
Estelle sighed. ‘Every one of my jobs is horse shit.’
‘On your birthday?’
She shrugged, suddenly seeming smaller, as if her balloon of energy had deflated. A brittle smile appeared. ‘No rest for the wicked. I’ll see you two lovebirds later.’
She sauntered off with a wave.
Libby glanced at Henry. He was watching Estelle, a frown on his face.
‘Is she alright?’
He rubbed his hand over his short hair. ‘I need to talk to her.’
‘Is everything okay?’
He shook his head. ‘Probably not.’
‘Do you want to go after her now?’
