Anyway, having your parents and four of their friends (who you’ve known practically from birth) all staring out at you with glasses of wine in their hands totally chills off the warm feeling between your thighs and deflates your nipples. It does, believe me, so don’t do it.
Josh went home, and I went in for a discussion about why slugs come out at night, and what kind of beer you should put out for them, before I managed to escape to bed and my ‘A’ level revision. Thank God for revision, it will get you out of practically any social occasion where your parents are involved.
I quite wish I could do that now.
Except I do actually love Uncle Terence. Once I’ve put my Christmas jumper on and we’ve set off for his rather posh bookshop (which actually looks more like a wine bar when he’s got it fancied up and makes it a brilliant venue for a party), then Christmas has officially started. And I love his bookshop with or without its festive vibe. It’s a bit of an Aladdin’s cave if you’re a bookaholic like I am. I’ve been going in there since I was in a pushchair and I’m still discovering new books and book-related knick-knacks and pictures.
Uncle T is not actually my uncle, but I’ve always called him that. And he lives in Stockton Hall, which is definitely not a hall. So, it could be confusing. But he is however hilariously funny and has a very impressive collection of waistcoats. He makes a mean cocktail and changes his girlfriends and wives more often than I have my hair cut. I was going to say change my knickers, but that’s not quite true. Close but not true.
‘Psst.’
I jump, stumble, and nearly topple into a life-size Harry Potter cut-out, adorned with tinsel. I’d rather collide with the White Witch to be honest.
Uncle Terence has popped through an opening between the book shelves, like a genie out of a bottle. He’s looking very dapper, as normal. But that is less important than the glass he is holding out to me. ‘It’s the Bee’s knees!’
I stare at him.
‘The cocktail, my dear! I thought it would suit the occasion, a nice drop of gin, something tart and a hint of something sweet.’ He winks. ‘And not a hedgehog in sight!’
He puts his arm round my shoulders and gives me a hug. ‘I will miss you when you fly the nest, my darling girl. You have become part of the fixtures and fittings in my little shop. Now, take a break and put your feet up for a second. I’ve got a wonderful stock of new and slightly racy books in your favourite corner.’ He puts a finger to his lips. ‘Our secret though, or else your mother and Vera will be here in a shot! I’m expecting an invasion by the playgroup mothers when the news gets out. Over there, between original editions and Spiritual Healing.’
He gives me a gentle shove, but I don’t need the encouragement. What could be better than a cocktail and a book?
‘Thank God, you’re still here!’ Ollie Cartwright flops down onto the small leather sofa nearly taking my eye out with his sharp elbow. Then stretches his long legs out, squashing me into the corner and nearly sends my book flying. ‘Thought you’d managed to come up with some excuse to escape and I was the only person here under forty! God, I hate these things!’
‘Why would I want to escape?’ I raise an eyebrow at him, cross that he’s come to annoy me, but also vaguely pleased. ‘I love Uncle Terence!’ And his book shop I could add. I really love his bookshop. And the books. I give this one a quick once over to check it’s not been damaged by Ollie’s arrival. Okay, I admit it. I’m a bit anal about books – unlike Mum who bends the corners over instead of finding a bookmark and bends the spine.
‘So, what are you doing hiding in a corner with a book?’
‘Well it is a book shop!’
‘It is a party!’ He grins.
We stare at each other. Impasse.
‘I needed to check something.’
‘Check something? What is that anyway?’ He makes a lunge for the book, but I am quicker, and I’m leaning back over the arm of the sofa, clutching it to my chest. ‘Riders? Ha-ha, the school swot Daisy Dunkerly reads porn!’
‘Don’t call me a swot! You’re just jealous I got a higher mark than you in Chemistry.’
‘I am.’ He chuckles. It’s quite a nice deep, rumbling chuckle that makes me want to smile stupidly back at him. But I try to resist, despite the fact that he’s leaned in and lowered his voice to a confidential level. ‘My mum will never forgive me for giving yours some extra ammo. I can hear it now: ‘Well, my Daisy came top in Chemistry! Can you imagine it? Isn’t she clever? When I was at school the girls thought chemistry was just what you felt when a boy tried to get in your knickers!’
I can’t help it. A grin escapes. It’s a pretty good impression of my mum, if a little high pitched.
His mum, Vera, and mine are best friends. She’s nice enough but honestly, the pair of them can be so competitive and embarrassing. I swear it started when they were both on the same maternity ward and Ollie weighed 3lb more than me (a win for Vera), but Mum was in labour for two hours longer (a win for her). From there it got worse, first child to say a word (shit from Ollie, but Vera insisted it was sheet), first one to poo on a potty (me, yay!).
They’re still at it. God knows what they’ll talk about when we leave home and go to university in the autumn. They’ll both have to get a puppy or something.
‘She doesn’t talk like that! Anyway, it’s not porn! Well, not that kind of porn! It’s Jilly Cooper.’
He shrugs, and sags back onto the sofa. Which leaves me feeling a bit cold and abandoned, even though he’s still only inches away.
Ollie Cartwright reads books, but only school books and weird geeky stuff based in alternative realities. He’s a bit of a smart arse.
‘And I’m not prim and proper!’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘S’pose not, not according to Josh the slosh anyway.’
Joshua, my fellow hedgehog hunter, is unfortunately in the same class at school as Ollie. My cheeks burn. ‘Why do boys have to be so immature?’ I will kill him if he’s been talking about us to his mates.
Ollie shrugs and looks faintly embarrassed, a tinge of pink along his high cheekbones. ‘One-upmanship I guess.’
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. ‘You’re eighteen for heaven’s sake! You’ll be going to uni in October! Don’t you have anything better to talk about than sex?’
‘Who said anything about sex?’ He laughs and leans in closer again, then frowns and touches my arm lightly. ‘You do know what kind of rep he’s got, don’t you? I mean I know he’s gobby but …’
‘Oh, shut up! I know exactly what he’s like!’ I move away a bit, because the touch of his hand is bringing out goose-bumps on my arm and making something deep in my stomach flutter. I can’t remember feeling that funny sensation with Josh, even when we were so close our hip bones clashed. The only goose-bumps I’d had was because it was bloody freezing.
In a strange way it would be nice if Ollie carried on, just to see what happens, but he doesn’t. He moves back as though I’ve swiped him away, not just retreated a bit.
‘So,’ he clears his throat, and points at the book, ‘what are you checking? Bet I can tell you more than a book can!’
‘In your dreams.’ I snap the book shut and sigh. Rupert Campbell-Black and Jake will have to wait another day. I mean, I know Riders has been about a while, but I read in a horse magazine that it is one of the books to read. So as soon as I spotted it was one of the new books Uncle T was stocking, I thought it was a good opportunity to try it out. ‘Anyway, why are you hiding in a corner, bothering me?’
Ollie