‘As you drink and eat,’ Adam went on, ‘you notice a group similar to yourselves, armed and equipped as if for a journey. They, too, are huddled over earthenware bowls, devouring the food as hungrily as if it were the finest roast fowl. And they are also talking among themselves, secretively and urgently. And you notice that the meal they have been served is far superior to the thin stew on your own table. It is the finest roast fowl. There are roasted roots, too, rich gravy and a freshly baked loaf. And in their glasses is not weak small beer but vintage red wine.’
‘What a rip-off!’ Freddie exclaimed, then hastily got back into character. ‘I mean, does it not seem strange to you, comrades, that they should sup so finely while we make do with a meal that is barely fit for pigs?’
‘I’m going to totally diss this place on TripAdvisor,’ said Nat. ‘Freddie – I mean Hesketh – should we discuss this matter with our noble hostess and try to learn the reason for this shameful discrepancy?’
‘We could do that,’ said Archie – or rather, Dun the rogue, ‘or we could attempt to relieve them of their meal by stealth when the next course is delivered by yonder serving wench.’
Right on cue, Kelly put a couple of fresh bottles of wine on the table, along with a plate of barbecue pork ribs and one of corn on the cob, charred from the grill. Adam watched in silence as we discussed the matter, slipping in and out of character, taking big gulps of red wine and piling into the food, unlike our poor imaginary characters with their thin stew, and decided that our characters would have a chat with the imaginary landlady.
He glanced down at his notes, which were hidden from our view by a cardboard screen printed with castles, dragons, warriors on horseback and a wizard gazing into a crystal ball. ‘The landlady tells you that the nearby fortress, Castle Drakeford, was recently invaded by an evil lord from lands to the east, who has installed his garrison there. Those men are his soldiers, and they descend on the village each evening, plundering and demanding crops, money and food.’
‘Bastards! I had them for wrong’uns right from the start,’ said Archie.
‘Ssshh!’ Nat elbowed him in the ribs.
‘But there is worse to come,’ Adam continued. ‘The landlady’s only daughter, a beautiful young maiden named Zarah, has been captured by Lord Brandrel. In just twelve days, he intends to take her as his bride. And it is well known in these parts the terrible fates that have befallen his previous wives: one driven mad and plunged to her death from the highest battlement; one given to his soldiers to use as they pleased after she refused to comply with his twisted desires; a third chained in a deep dungeon guarded by a dragon. But that last may merely be a tale told by old men after too long in the tavern.’
I glanced around the table. Everyone was leaning forward, fascinated. It was like the noise of the pub around us had been silenced, like the bright street scene over the mantlepiece had been replaced with a medieval tapestry, as if the polished parquet floor was now covered in bulrushes.
Adam’s face was cast into angles and planes of light and shadow by the flickering candlelight. His hands moved as he spoke, like he was drawing pictures in his own head. His shabby corduroy shirt had a sheen like velvet in the dim light. Holy shit, I thought. He’s really good at this.
‘Just then, you hear a commotion near the door. The landlady’s face turns as white as milk. Her son, a hot-blooded young boy named Darian, is squaring up to Lord Brandrel’s men, demanding the return of his sister. Already, the soldiers have drawn their swords and are closing in on him. What will you do?’
Of course, it was obvious what we’d do. The game so far had been a slow burn, character-developing and background-setting, but we all knew we were there for the excitement of hand-to-hand combat. Our characters drew their own weapons, rushed into the fray and won the skirmish. Brandrel’s bruisers fled, Darian returned to his mother for a bollocking to end all bollockings, Lorien tended to a cut on Hesketh’s jaw.
‘A mere flesh wound.’ Adam consulted the dice. ‘You were lucky. Right, we’ll call it there for tonight.’
He folded the screen and started tidying his notes, and Alice turned up the lights in the bar and said, ‘Time, please, ladies and gents.’
And straight away, it was just the Ginger Cat again, and I was me, and Adam and Archie and Freddie and the rest of them were just a bunch of dorky people I sort of knew.
We all exhaled in nervous giggles as we settled the bill (with the rest of us picking up Adam’s share, as we’d agreed) and gathered our stuff.
‘That was brilliant.’
‘Awesome fun; thanks, guys.’
‘Can’t wait for next week.’
‘You were ace, Adam.’
‘I can’t believe I let myself get in the way of that dagger.’
Together, we all headed out into the night. It was still warm, but a light drizzle hung in the air, blurring the headlights of approaching cars and the sign above Archie’s shop next door. I watched as he and Nat hurried off down the road, Archie ineffectually holding his hand over her head to keep her dry. Freddie buried his hands in his pockets and headed in the other direction, whistling along with whatever music was on his headphones. Soon, only Adam and I were left.
‘Which way are you going?’ he asked.
‘Just there.’ I pointed over my head. ‘I live above the pub, remember?’
‘Of course. You and Frazzle. But he didn’t put in an appearance tonight.’
‘He was probably worried about getting run through with a dagger.’
Adam smiled. ‘No animals will be harmed in the making of this D&D adventure, I promise.’
‘You thought it all up yourself, didn’t you? I mean, you didn’t use one of the ready-made games.’
‘Nah.’ He pushed up his glasses. Their lenses were misted with rain so his eyes looked blurry, too. ‘I guess I wanted to do it properly.’
‘And you did. You were brilliant.’
He gave a kind of ‘aw, shucks’ shrug. ‘It’s been fun, planning it all. I’m glad you asked me to do it.’
‘I’m glad too. I’m really excited for next time.’
‘No pressure then.’ He smiled again, a proper grin this time.
I smiled back. ‘No pressure.’
Then, both at the same time, we said, ‘I should—’
‘I should head home,’ he said.
‘And I should head upstairs.’
‘Night, then, Zoë.’
‘Night. And thanks.’
We turned away from each other and I pushed open the door and walked back through the almost empty pub, feeling suddenly, hollowly alone. The stairs to my flat were in darkness, and for a second I felt a return of the nervous tension that had gripped me while we were engrossed in the game, like I might be ambushed by a mercenary with a broadsword.
But I told myself not to be stupid. I started up the stairs, then almost fell backwards when I saw a figure sitting on the top stair, hunched over in the gloom, and heard a voice say my name.
‘Jesus Christ! You scared the hell out of me!’
It was Jude.
Sixteen
It might feel as if love has fallen right into your waiting arms, Aquarius, but don’t cling onto it so hard you squeeze the life out of it.