familiar.â
âIâm Flora Scurrison,â I said warily.
His face was furrowed in concentration for another minute, then he broke into an enormous smile. âOh my God! Donât you remember me?â
Something was ringing at the back of my mind.
âItâs Justin!â
Justin, Justin â¦
Suddenly it hit me.
âOh my God.â
âYeah!â
âYouâre Clellandâs little brother.â
The one with the baby monitor.
âYes! I recognise you from the photos.â
âI am SO OLD,â I said, almost without realising it.
âEveryone keeps coming up and telling me how much Iâve grown. I am nearly seventeen, actually. Quite grown up.â He looked petulant all of a sudden and I was reminded overwhelmingly of Clelland.
âYou look a lot like your brother.â
âI do not.â
âHe does not,â said a deep voice.
I looked up.
âHello, Flora. Justin, scram.â
âYou always treat me like a kid,â scowled Justin.
âThatâs because you sulk and whine all the time.â
Justin sulked off, whining.
âHeâll be OK. He needs to eat about nine times a day, so the buffetâs probably the best place for him.â
Clelland was ⦠well, it was impossible Iâd have mistaken him for anyone other than himself.
He had filled out, of course; he couldnât possibly be as absurdly skinny as he had been; that would have been David Bowie and nobody else. But his black, unruly hair was just the same as ever.
âI thought he was you,â I said, not trusting myself beyond a short sentence.
âGod, really?â He glanced behind him at his brother, mooching off. âWas I such a slouching runt at that age?â
âWorse!â I gave a very peculiar slightly strangulated laugh. âAt least heâs not wearing a Morrissey T-shirt. Every day!â
âI loved that T-shirt.â
âI know.â
I held out my hand. âClelland, itâs good to see you.â
âOh God, itâs John. Please. Nobody calls me that any more.â
âNo, really? I thought you swore youâd never get tied down into âbourgeois tying-down name fascismâ.â
âYeah? And do you still spell your name P-f-l-o-w?â
âNo,â I said, going scarlet.
âSo ⦠what have you been up to?â He looked ⦠he looked great. And wryly amused to see me.
âOh, lots of things,â I said, as he easily lifted two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter.
âYeah?â
âNo!â I said. âWell, I went to university then got a job and moved back to London.â
âThatâs three things.â
âOver quite a long period.â
We stood for a moment.
âWhat have you been doing then?â I asked awkwardly.
Oddly, I could see over my shoulder, Justin had bumped into Olly at the buffet and was pointing out foodstuffs to him.
Clelland â John, but I really couldnât think of him any other way â shrugged.
âWell, I went to Aberdeen.â
âI remember that,â I said quietly.
âYes, of course,â he said, looking slightly awkward for a second, which came as a big relief to me. From the way our conversation had been going, I was beginning to wonder if Iâd made up the whole romance in a psychotic episode and
we were distant acquaintances greeting each other at a Rotary Club dance.
âThen I joined VSO for a couple of years â get out and see the world, you know.â
âOh yes. Where did you end up?â
âAfrica.â
âWow, thatâs amazing!â
âComplete and utter shithole. I hated every second of it. I wanted to catch malaria so theyâd have to send me home.â
âGod, I havenât wanted you to die for ages,â I said, before my brain had properly engaged. It was not a good moment. Olly stumbled over.
âJesus, Flo, I canât