Chapter 16 #3
“Don’t be silly, darling, black isn’t a colour. And your hair.” She picks up a lock of it and lets it fall back onto my shoulder. “When are you going to get a more grown-up cut? Like Prim’s.” She points towards my sister whose bob is so sharp it could cut through flesh.
I open my mouth to point out that I do not have the jawline to pull off a cut like that when an arm slides around my waist. I nearly jump out of my skin until I realise it’s not handsy cousin Jack but my fake boyfriend, Mr Hottie.
He places a glass of something alcoholic and fizzy into my hand and if it wasn’t banned by the contract, I’d kiss him here and now.
“I like Molly’s hair like this,” he says, nuzzling his face into my nape which I’m not entirely sure is allowed under the contract, “and I like the black dress.” My mum gapes at him. “Also, I understand your daughter chose this dress especially in order to please you.”
My mum blinks. “You did?” she asks me.
“Well, yes, I know you don’t really like my ‘look’.” I take a long sip of my drink, my nose wrinkling at all the bubbles.
She blinks again. “I assumed you always chose your outfits with the intention of irritating me.”
I laugh. “Sometimes maybe, when I was younger. Mostly I’m dressing for myself.”
“I like her sense of individualism,” Horatio says. “It’s one of the things that first attracted me to your daughter.”
“Molly has always been an individual.” I assume this is one of my mum’s back-handed compliments but to my surprise, she smiles at me with affection.
“I remember when the assignment at school was to bring in a favourite toy from home; all the other children brought in their toy pumpkins and broomsticks. Molly took in a saucepan and some soil and insisted on baking all the other children mud pies.”
She laughs again and this time Horatio joins in.
“That sounds like Molly,” he says, his hand squeezing my waist.
My mum smiles at him in a way she has never smiled at any of my previous boyfriends and I realise this is what it must feel like to be Prim or Tiggie.
“Oh,” she says next, “have you met Prim’s partner, Norman?” She sweeps her gaze across the room, locating Norman in a corner where he’s studying his phone with intent. “Norman,” she calls, “come meet Horatio.”
Norman holds up his hand for her to wait, types something into his phone, tucks it into his tweed jacket pocket and strolls right over with his usual air of self-importance.
He’s lost even more hair on the top of his head than the last time I saw him, and the frown lines between his brows are twice as deep. The job is obviously taking its toll.
He kisses my cheek and shakes Horatio’s hand, having to tip back his head to meet my fake boyfriend’s eye.
“About time you found a normal-looking boyfriend, Moll.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
‘Normal looking’? Horatio is anything but normal looking.
“We were all beginning to fear you’d end up with one of those loser fellas permanently,” he says with a snorty little laugh that makes him sound like a pig.
A thought that instantly makes me feel like a bitch – this is the man my sister loves and I should be kinder.
I just wish he was … more … something. “The last one had his tongue and his nipple pierced.” He snort-laughs again and for the second time tonight I consider clubbing someone to death with my shoe.
Or hexing him. Instead, I take a long glug of my drink.
Horatio looks him dead in the eye, and leans forward to whisper by his ear, “I can go one better than that. I have a pierced cock.”
I spit out my wine, liquid hitting Norman right in the face and splattering all over his glasses.
He mumbles something incoherent, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket – I mean, come on, what man under the age of sixty-five owns a handkerchief?
! – and wipes the liquid off his glasses and then his now red face.
“Haha,” he says, “very funny old chap.”
“Oh, he’s not joking, Norman,” I say, leaning into Horatio’s embrace, “it makes things far more–”
Norman yanks his phone out of his pocket and strolls right away muttering something about an urgent message from work.
“That was cruel,” I say, bumping my hip against Horatio.
“I was deadly serious, Molly,” he says with a wink and I nearly choke on my drink a second time. I have no idea if he’s teasing me or not but I have no time to find out because my mum is now ushering everyone into a private dining room.
“Are there any other guests staying at this hotel?” Horatio asks. “And where are all the staff?”
“I doubt there’s anyone else staying here and the hotel runs itself.” He lifts a puzzled eyebrow. “Wait and see,” I tell him.
We reach the long laid-out table and I glance down and groan. There are little place cards identifying where each of us is required to sit. I’ve been placed next to handsy cousin Jack and Horatio right next to my mother.
I consider spinning right around and dashing for the exit, but my mum already has a hold of Horatio’s arm and is leading him to his seat.