Chapter Six
Waking up suddenly, I sit up straight in my bed. I must have been having one hell of a bad dream to wake up with such a start. I also have a horrible headache, right across my forehead – I didn’t think I’d drank nearly enough Kapops to land myself a hangover. Perhaps they don’t pair well, with prosecco, and however many bottles of champagne Eric gave me to apologise for locking me in the loos.
My eyes. Something is wrong with... oh, no, wait, nothing is wrong with my eyes. I’m wearing an eye mask, because of course I am.
I don’t even know if it’s morning yet. I suppose if it was my mum would have woken me up by now. Either way, I think I’ll go back to sleep while I can.
The second my head touches the pillow I feel a sharp pain in my forehead, followed by a very quiet but very real giggle.
‘Is that…’ I sit up, pulling my eye mask from my face. ‘Rory!’
‘Good morning, sis. Good night last night, was it?’
In my older brother’s hand is the basket full of multi-coloured glass pebbles that have sat on my dressing table since, oh I don’t know, the start of the new millennium.
Before I have a chance to reply he throws another one at me, hitting me right in the middle of the forehead again.
‘You moron, I have such a headache,’ I snap at him, right as my mum pops her head inside my bedroom door.
‘Leah Helen Porter, you promised me you wouldn’t have a hangover this morning.’
‘But mum, I–’
‘And be nice to your brother, it’s not his fault I asked him to wake you.’
Rory laughs to himself as our mum heads back downstairs.
‘Do you have to start this shit so early in the morning?’ I ask him.
My darling brother repeats every word I just said in a voice that I imagine is supposed to be my own. For some reason, he sounds like a cockney geezer though, and I do not.
‘Where has your Yorkshire accent gone?’ he jokes accusingly.
‘It’s right here, telling you to piss off,’ I reply. ‘Seriously, Rory, I’m not feeling well, can you leave me alone?’
‘Sorry,’ he says, sounding sincere enough, but then he grabs a pen and starts drawing a dick on one of my posters.
I lie back down, my head hitting the pillow a little harder than I had planned, because there's absolutely no point trying to stop him.
'What do you want, Rory?' I ask, assuming he’s here for a reason, not just to annoy you.
'Mum asked me to wake you when Sunday lunch is ready.'
‘Then why don’t you do that,’ I reply.
‘Erm, I am,’ he says with a laugh.
I grab my phone from next to my bed to check the time.
'Oh my god, it's half two! Why didn't anyone wake me?'
'Hey, I tried. Nine, by the way.'
'What?' I reply.
‘Nine. That's how many of those stones I had to throw at you before you woke up.'
I roll my eyes.
'Technically I was already awake when you threw the last one.'
'Yeah, so I didn't count that on. Come on, you know me better than that.'
I can't help but laugh.
'You are a ridiculous person,' I tell him.
I’m a little tetchy today, sure, although Rory does annoy me at the best of times. The reason I’m a little irritable is because I’m kicking myself. Last night, after I was freed from the toilets, and Mel and Angie took me into the function room, all I could think about was the mysterious Mr L, but by the time I went back into the main room of the pub to find him, he was nowhere to be seen. Mel obviously didn’t recognise him, because she never said anything when she saw him – I don’t even think she looked at him – and believe me when I say that I walked multiple laps of the pub, looking for him, including returning to the toilets, but there was no sign of him. Hopefully it’s his local, and I’ll see him the next time I go in, but even so, I’m annoyed at myself. I mean, come on, I thought to kiss him before it occurred to me to ask him what his name was.
'Get out of my room, I need to put clothes on,’ I tell Rory.
'Okay, but if I were you, I'd dress nice,' he warns me.
'Why, do we have company?'
'No,' Rory replies, totally straight-faced. 'You just look like shit.'