‘Bzzzt. Wrong answer.’ His head flops about as he laughs. ‘Try again.’
‘Adam,’ I warn.
‘Look, can we not?’ he asks, hands out wide. ‘I just don’t want to talk about it. Make me another offer.’
‘All right, then Mr High-rise.’ I make a show of scratching at my chin. ‘Do you know anything about floorboards? I was planning on giving the ones downstairs a bit of a scuff and polish this weekend.’
‘I’ll have you know I helped Dad with the ones in the kitchen a few years ago.’ He waggles a hand. ‘Wouldn’t call myself an ex-pert as such, but I could probably feel my way around in the dark.’
‘Could you help me?’
‘Absolutely I can,’ he says with all the conviction of a game show host about to turn the cards on a winner.
I nod. ‘Good. All right. In that case, just promise me you’ll eat something before you have another drink?’
‘Are you saying you’d like to buy me dinner?’ He presses a hand to his chest and discards my wine glass like a child that’s been shown a shiny new toy. ‘Why, you shouldn’t.’
‘Come on.’ I grab at his hand and drag him off the sofa.
On our way out the door, Adam insists on having a quick look around. The scent of paint and cleaners linger, but his face lights up at the change. It looks like an entirely new building compared to the day I moved in. I hop about and tug at a threadbare sock as I follow him, explaining all the issues that sprang up along the way. While I’m concerned about a patch I can see I missed on the ceiling, he gives his opinion on everything from the light fittings to the choice of paint colour and the state of the floorboards.
‘Isn’t it amazing how much can change in one little week?’ he asks, thumb and forefinger pinched together.
‘It’s getting there,’ I concede. ‘We’ll see how it all looks after the weekend.’
‘So, what’s the deal?’ he asks. ‘Are you just polishing them, or are you stripping them right back?’
My top lip curls. ‘That’s the thing. I don’t want to spend too much money. It’s a rental. Also, my bank account is currently haemorrhaging. If I end up owning the place, then I’ll strip them and start afresh. For now, presentable works.’
‘Eh, that’s easy.’ He sniffs. ‘Good thing I’m free all weekend, then, isn’t it? Oh, I’m catching up with the lads for dinner tomorrow night, but otherwise, I’m yours.’
I reach out and clap a hand on Adam’s forehead. ‘Who are you and what have you done with my brother?’
‘Buy me a drink, and you’ll find out.’
Despite his request, it’s Adam who buys the first drinks while I stalk the bistro of the nearest pub for somewhere to sit. Families, couples, a pool table, work functions and bingo. A booth by the window is free and all ours. It’s sticky and someone’s left the last of their dinner behind, but I push the plate aside and shuffle across the seat before someone else pinches it.
‘Do you still drink cosmos?’ Adam pushes a sloshing glass across the table. ‘Or are you on the whisky sours now?’
I snigger at the reference. ‘While I’m still breathing, a cosmo is fine.’
‘Good, good,’ he says, bouncing about as he wrangles himself out of his coat. ‘I was worried about you when you said that. I was like “wait, she’s never drunk that before”.’
‘Just me being salty.’ I smile and try to find the straw with my mouth. ‘So, what’s this then? Two weeks in a row. Anyone would think you like me.’
‘I wanted to see you, is that okay?’ he says enthusiastically. ‘And you’re my little sister, so I do like you. In fact, I happen to like you a lot.’
I set my drink aside and lean into the table. ‘You could have called if you wanted a chat.’
‘Yes, but I said I wanted to see you.’ He pulls a face. ‘Bit different to picking up the old Bakelite.’
‘How was the trip up? You staying all weekend?’
‘Sure am.’ He plucks a few menus from behind the condiment box and hands me one. ‘And the train was great. I skipped out of work early and beat the crowd.’
I study his face for a moment. He’s wearing the disbelieving ‘what’s with all the questions?’ expression that comes with raised brows and averted eyes. Even his shoulders are folded like origami swans. This is just like him though, clowning around pretending like he got on the train and travelled three hours simply because he missed me. As flattering as that notion is, I’m certain it can’t be all.
‘You skipped out of work?’ I ask. ‘Adam, this isn’t like you. What’s going on?’
‘Well, I switched a few meetings to Monday and didn’t have court this afternoon, so here I am.’ His eyes widen. ‘Am I not allowed to miss you?’
My lips turn down into a sad pout and something presses my throat closed. ‘You miss me?’
‘Don’t sound so shocked, of course I do. You know, we used to spend quite a bit of time together in the big city. Lunch on Wednesdays, daily phone calls and questionable emails. My inbox is verging on starvation this week, by the way, very boring. Crawling across the technological desert in search of water.’
‘I promise I’ll start emailing you just as soon as I get this under control.’ I reach for my drink. ‘What have you been filling your week with instead?’
‘Let me see.’ He peers up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. ‘Basically, being an amazing kickass lawyer.’
I watch him for a moment, the corners of his mouth faltering.
‘You know you can talk to me, don’t you?’ I ask. I don’t mean to blurt it out but watching him pretend like there’s nothing going on is breaking my heart. When you go through the things our family has, you become acutely aware of each other’s plays and I can see exactly what he’s doing right now. ‘I promise it goes no further.’
‘Oh, you mean like that time you told Dad about my getting nicked for shoplifting?’ He eyes me over the top of his pint, a quick eyebrow lift as if to prove a point.
‘I was twelve.’
‘And I’ll have the roast of the day.’ He smiles weakly and tucks the menu back in place. ‘Don’t skimp on the Yorkshire pudding, either. We are in Yorkshire after all.’
‘You’re a shit.’ I scowl as I get up from the table.
While I wait my turn at the bar, I watch the crowd as they hand over notes and small change, the pull of beers and glug of wine bottles. A cool breeze catches the nape of my neck and I turn to the offending door to see Christopher step inside. He pulls a flat cap from his head and stuffs it in his back pocket.
Four more people walk in with him. I’m too exhausted and preoccupied to consider who they might be.
‘Hello, Kit.’ The barmaid perks up. I duck my head away and hide, pretending to look at the drinks card in the hope he hasn’t seen me.
‘Hello, Caroline,’ he coos back. ‘How are you this evening?’
‘All the better for seeing you.’ She folds her arms across her chest and leans into the counter in that way that says: hello, yes, I’m here for you. ‘What’s up today?’