Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘Oh, Beth.’
Kieran stroked her skin. It felt incredible, as if she’d bathed in every unctuous lotion and potion known to womankind. Like silk spun by the crème de la crème of silkworms, its softness both breathtaking and arousing.
‘Oh, Kieran.’
He stroked her skin again. So incredible, so, so … hairy? Hang on a minute, Beth didn’t strike him as the hirsute type. What the—
‘Miaow.’
Kieran squeezed his eyes shut. If he kept them like that, reality wouldn’t swipe him in the face. Unlike Prom, who swiped his cheek with a paw.
‘Get off me!’ Kieran sat up and inadvertently knocked Prom off the bed. Prom gave a disgruntled yowl of disapproval.
Now fully awake, Kieran felt guilty about his violence. Not that he’d been violent, but fantasising about Beth whilst petting Prom was all shades of wrong.
‘Sorry, mate.’
Prom arched his back, stuck his tail in the air and swanned out of the bedroom.
‘You’re an idiot.’ Did he mean Prom, or himself?
Whatever.
After a quick breakfast, Kieran considered a trip to Edinburgh. For all its charm, a little Cranley went a long way.
‘Behave yourself, Prom,’ he said, checking windows and doors as if he lived with a furry Houdini.
At the station, Kieran clocked Jinnie and Sam wheeling Dahlia in her buggy.
‘Hi, Kieran, how are you?’ Jinnie adjusted the visor on Dahlia’s buggy, shading her from the July sun.
‘Good, thanks. Just fancied a change of scenery.’
‘Same here,’ said Sam. ‘I just finished the third draft of my latest book, so we’re treating ourselves to lunch at The Crooked Cauldron.’
‘That’s a new one to me.’ Kieran had eaten at his fair share of Edinburgh restaurants, but not that one.
‘It’s really nice,’ added Jinnie. ‘A favourite of Jo and Harvey’s. In fact, they got engaged there!’
‘Lovely,’ said Kieran, not remotely interested in where Jo and Harvey had got engaged. Despite Jinnie and Sam’s friendliness, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was weird. They had given off a peculiar vibe while huddled in the pub with Wilma and the others.
‘Ooh, the choo-choo is coming!’ Jinnie went into full mum mode, whisking Dahlia out of her buggy and flapping her little hand at the incoming train.
‘Right. Well, congratulations on finishing the book, Sam.’
Sam sighed heavily. ‘If only. I might get it right by the tenth draft if I’m lucky.’
‘Sounds about as painful as my app. Which I won’t bore you with. Enjoy your lunch.’
Kieran deliberately picked another carriage. That was more difficult than it sounded, as there were only two. Rude? He didn’t care. He didn’t want to analyse what, if anything, was going on.
At Waverley station, he deliberately sprinted up the stairs to Princes Street. With a baby and buggy, Jinnie and Sam would take longer to disembark.
Kieran headed to George Street, where high-end shops peddled their wares. Well-known brands, but did they tick the sustainability box? And did the public give a shit? ClosetAura could be a compass: cut through the sludge, show people what to buy, what to skip, and why.
‘I need that outfit.’ A woman halted in front of him so abruptly that Kieran slammed into her back. Damn. Stammering an apology, he moved on.
The next shop brought him up short. Fitness, Witness. He gazed at a window full of stretchy, impossibly sleek and hideously pricey gym and yoga wear. The mannequins had inflated breasts, waists that suggested they lacked an internal organ or two, and legs that went on forever.
‘Yep,’ Kieran said. ‘Completely realistic.’
‘Kieran.’
Kieran dragged himself away from the window display. That voice. Husky, with an undertone of ‘shall we have sex now, or later?’
‘Lisa.’
Looking drop-dead gorgeous, as always. Kieran’s nether regions did an involuntary memory surge. He thanked the gods of small mercies for wearing baggy shorts.
‘Well, this is a surprise.’ Lisa said and pasted on a smile. Because she couldn’t genuinely be pleased to see him, could she?
‘It is. I was considering some skintight Lycra shorts, but you always said I looked like I was smuggling walnuts in my underwear.’
Lisa emitted a tinny laugh. ‘I never said that. Oh, shit, did I really say that?’
‘Yes, you did.’ Kieran adopted a wounded expression. Lisa pouted, and Kieran noticed her lips seemed bigger than before. As did her breasts. Surely health-obsessed Lisa, who balked at taking antibiotics and swore she’d never have plastic surgery, hadn’t gone down that route?
‘You’re staring, Kieran.’ She flicked her glossy ponytail.
‘Am I? Sorry, you just look a little … different.’
‘I’ve lost a few pounds.’
And gained a few elsewhere, he didn’t say.
‘How’s Sven?’ That name had given Kieran nightmares. And dreams in which he’d crushed his yoga-pants-clad balls in a vice, cracking them like nuts. Bigger than walnuts, but…
‘He’s great. Totally great. He’s in Thailand, leading an ashram. Giving people a space to immerse themselves in spiritual practices, personal growth, and self-discovery.’
Lisa sounded as if she was reciting from a brochure. And wasn’t that a glimmer of a tear in her eye?
‘Right up his street. OK, I think I’ll head off. No need for Lycra, just strong coffee and a bite to eat.’
‘Can I join you?’
Every molecule in Kieran’s yoga-averse body screamed no. Make up an excuse. But a tiny part of him wanted to suss out the situation. ‘Sure. But aren’t you planning on buying something?’
Lisa shook her head. ‘Nah, you know I could kit out this shop twice over with my fitness wear. Come on, there’s a fab coffee shop on Hanover Street that does the best gluten-free vegan cakes.’
As Lisa bounced off, Kieran wondered if he should sprint in the opposite direction. No, that would be mean. Besides, he’d already established his running skills left a lot to be desired.
Oat Couture gave off a healthy and holistic vibe. Everyone in the café looked as if they worked out daily and bleached their eyeballs regularly.
‘Sylvie!’ Lisa launched herself at a petite brunette slicing a cake that resembled a cowpat. If cows pooped in neat rectangles.
‘Lisa!’ The young woman put down her knife and hugged Lisa. ‘So good to see you. And is this your new boyfriend? Registering high on the cute-ometer!’
Eh, what? Kieran didn’t mind the ‘cute’ rating, but why would Sylvie say that, unless…
Lisa emitted a forced laugh. ‘No, absolutely not. I’m still with Sven. Loved up as ever. This is an old … friend.’
Kieran didn’t know how to feel. Demoted from ex-boyfriend to old friend, and the ‘absolutely not’ stung.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Sylvie picked up the knife and continued slicing the cowpat. The label said Chocolate Avocado Fudge Cake. ‘I thought I heard… Never mind. What can I get you guys?’
Kieran and Lisa ordered. Oat-milk cappuccinos and a slice of the fudge (sludge) cake for Lisa, Kieran opting for lemon and blueberry polenta cake.
Dispersing the fern design in her coffee froth, Lisa pursed her inflated lips. ‘So, are you seeing anyone?’ she asked. ‘As in a woman?’
Kieran snorted. ‘I knew what you meant, Lisa, unless you think I need a shrink or I’ve started hallucinating.’
‘The same old Kieran. Always quick with the sharp retorts, usually as a way of avoiding an answer.’
Kieran took a bite of his cake and chewed it slowly, knowing this would wind Lisa up further.
‘By the way, everything’s fine with Sven. I don’t know what Sylvie’s talking about.’ As she spoke, Lisa tore apart three sugar sachets and stirred them violently into her coffee.
‘That’s great to hear. And no, I’m not seeing anyone.’ Kieran batted away an image of Beth, and his embarrassing snuggle with Prom.
‘And how’s the app thing going?’
Lisa had never shown an interest in what she described as ‘boring techie stuff’.
To be fair, Kieran hadn’t exactly embraced Lisa’s super-zen lifestyle.
He’d boggled at her ability to subsist on kale and beetroot shots, dedicate a whole cupboard to reusable water bottles, and bend into shapes that made him question basic human anatomy.
‘It’s going. There’s some interest from investors, but a lot of work still to be done. I could show you the rough design if you’re—’
‘I lied!’ Lisa wailed, and a solitary tear trickled down her perfectly made-up face.
Kieran had never seen Lisa ugly cry. Even when her beloved dog Wolfie died, she’d wept prettily. ‘I lied about Sven. He’s not in Thailand. He’s in Twickenham with bloody Tania!’
Nice alliteration. Not massively relevant, though, and Kieran’s knowledge of Twickenham extended no further than rugby. As for Tania…
‘She’s been sniffing around him for ages. Thrusting her tits in his face and whimpering about how connected they are, and could she have one-on-one sessions with him?’
‘Maybe she completes him.’ Ah, cheap shot, Kieran. One which sailed over Lisa’s head.
‘We were good together, right?’
Kieran looked at the face he’d once adored. Inflated lips and boobs aside, she was still Lisa. A bit loopy, very bendy, and … did she want to try again?
‘Kieran, can we try again?’
Oh, help.