Francis Saturday Evening at the Blackbird
FRANCIS
Saturday evening at the Blackbird
The table at the back of the Blackbird is already half full when I arrive, with the usual background hum of conversation and the familiar scent of fried potatoes, beer, and freshly baked pies, an unmistakable Saturday night signature that’s been ours for.
.. how many years now? Quite a few, though thankfully not too many.
No matter how wrecked I am after a long hospital shift, these evenings with my friends still mean a lot to me, more than I know how to put into words.
For a long time, they were the highlight of my week. I’ll admit, though, that in the aftermath of the breakup with Anne, things got complicated. Finding a new balance within the group wasn’t exactly straightforward.
But thanks to the kindness and emotional intelligence of the people around me, she and I somehow managed to remain part of it, both of us, fully.
If I hadn’t been foolish enough the other day to make yet another poorly timed joke, Anne and I would probably already be well on our way to finding some kind of peaceful coexistence within the group.
But I’m a stubborn idiot, and I pushed her away again.
Now I can’t help wondering if she’ll really show up tonight on the arm of this mysterious William, though, by the looks of things, I won’t have to wait long to find out.
The Elliott Arnettes as expected, are practically glued to each other.
Remi clings to his husband with quiet possessiveness: one hand reaching out to trace the delicate floral tattoos just visible on Seb’s bare arm, while the fingers of the other drift lazily through his soft black hair.
Remi looks like he needs to touch him the way most people need to breathe and judging by the contented expression on his husband’s face, the feeling is entirely mutual.
They appear to be listening to the steady stream of chatter coming from Noah and Jamie, seated across from them, but I know them too well. They’re completely wrapped up in each other.
And honestly, I get it. Their never-ending honeymoon phase now includes a child, very much wanted and deeply loved, but I imagine even the most devoted couple needs the occasional evening without a toddler in tow.
Emma and Ben are attentive, loving grandparents, which means my friends can properly relax tonight, knowing that little Leo is in the best possible hands.
And if the grandparents are ever busy, Maude is always more than happy to step in.
Remi’s sister still lives in Sennen Cove, but lately she’s been showing up around here more and more often, and I’m starting to suspect it’s not just for the pleasure of spending time with the Elliott Arnette family.
Then again, she works remotely, so she can afford it. And truth be told, seeing her always lifts my mood.
I start making my way over to greet everyone, but before I even manage to take a few steps, the door swings open behind me, letting in a wave of voices I recognise instantly.
I turn around on instinct.
And come face to face with Ian, Kit, Ollie… and a boy I’ve never seen before, who I can only assume is the infamous Jack.
I know he’s twenty-two, but he barely looks eighteen, and the first thing that comes to mind when I see him is that he must be the secret love child of Juliette Binoche and… an elf.
The thought is so ridiculous I laugh right in his face, which instantly earns me an indignant glare from him and a warning look from Ian.
Fair enough. He may not want him in the flat, but Jack is still his brother.
I quickly try to pull myself together: I greet Kit and Ian with a pat on the back and give Ollie a hug, he’s watching me with a slightly puzzled look, hoping the whole thing blows over quickly.
But when I reach out to Jack to introduce myself, it’s painfully obvious from the look on his face that he’s still pissed off.
“Um… nice to meet you,” I offer, still holding my hand out in the air. He doesn’t take it.
Instead, he crosses his arms and shoots me a look that could curdle milk.
He’s got this wild mop of reddish-brown hair that sticks out in every direction and keeps falling into his eyes, huge, amber-coloured eyes framed by the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen on a boy.
His nose is slim and slightly upturned, with a tiny bump right where the bridge begins, like he might’ve worn glasses for years.
And his lips, full, soft, shaped like a bow, curl in the most infuriatingly cute way when he’s angry, like now.
As for his outfit… let’s just say it’s creative: a chestnut-coloured woollen vest over a white short-sleeved T-shirt, matched with trousers in the same shade, rolled up at the ankles, and a pair of Adidas in almost the exact tone.
The peculiar outfit is topped off with a perfectly knotted rust-coloured scarf around his neck.
After a closer look, I can only confirm my first impression: he really does look like some enchanted woodland sprite, albeit one with a touch of French flair and a pout that looks anything but easy to charm.
“I’m Jack McAvoy,” he declares, all indignant, before turning on his heel and walking off, completely ignoring my still-outstretched hand.
I just stand there for a moment, stunned by the encounter, and when I finally glance up, I catch Remi and Seb watching me from across the room, clearly trying not to laugh.
They must’ve seen the whole thing and are now enjoying the show at my expense.
Such thoughtful friends, really.
I wisely decide not to make things any worse and join the group, ready to face an evening that isn’t exactly off to a great start.
Jack, meanwhile, has already introduced himself to everyone and is now sitting between Seb and Ollie.
I catch him giggling and twisting around in his chair, equal parts bold and awkward. His slim hands flit through the air as he talks, and that oddly shy, radiant smile of his takes over his whole face.
I can’t seem to look away, and in that moment, I finally understand what Ian meant.
Jack is, undeniably, an insufferable little brat.