Page 83 of Read My Lips

“Helping legitimize your deepfake of a relationship, you ungrateful shit.” The rounded toe of Sev’s shiny black boot tapped against the floorboards. At least she didn’t jab me in the ribs. “Thought you wanted to do a working lunch, Simon?” she said. “To sort all the really urgent social media stuff you summoned me for.”

“Right.” Simon smirked. Like a cheeky school boy. “Absolutely. Let’s get on with that. Just – call me old-fashioned – my spare key is really only supposed to be for emergencies?”

Dusting himself off, Simon shut the front door a little harder than necessary.

And then Jo – it had to be Jo – poked her head out of the living room doorway. “Don’t blame Sev. Your fault for not replying to my messages.”

In real time, the easy looseness Simon had shown all morning shifted as his focus sharpened on his sister. I could practically see him backwards-inducing everything she’d said.

“Had a busy morning,” he threw back, irritatingly nonchalant. I flushed when he caught my eye.

Jo laughed – this great warm blare that glowed through her. Simon was high-waisted trousers and tailoring, and she was high-fashion and femininity. Even in bare feet.

“Mmhm, and how was your doting sister supposed to know you weren’t unconscious, unable to get to your phone, oblivious to us hammering on your door, thinking no one was ever going to find you?” Her hand went to her hip. Her fingernails were the same deep orange as her toes.

“Because I’m not eighty.” Somehow Simon managed to look affectionate towards her despite rolling his eyes. “Or prone to fainting. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“There could have been a gas leak.”

“Oh I see, you’re skiving.”

“For your information, I’m deep in the design phase for the next collection. And my creativity requires inspiration.”

Simon nodded slowly, miming deep understanding. Only, the bottom half of his face was too amused to get the message. “What are you doing here then? It was Sev I asked to lunch. For work.”

Jo patted his arm. “You kidnapped the love of my life for basically the entire weekend, leaving me all on my own⁠—”

“It was a day.”

“Babes, you were with⁠—”

“Hush. Not relevant.” Jo held her finger up to silence Sev. Pursing her lips did nothing to banish the laughter in her eyes. “All on my own. I thought why not take back some quality family time, the three of us? And Ben, obviously. Hi Ben.”

“Erm. Hi.”

“Oh,” said Simon. “I see. Nothing about using my garden then?”

Jo blanked him. “So... My brother with an official boyfriend?” She looped her arm into mine. “I cannot believe Simon hasn’t introduced us. It’s rude at this point, really. The internet tells me you’ve been together ages.”

“Stop it,” Simon warned. “Least you can do is behave yourself if you’re staying for lunch.”

Jo and Sev let Simon shoo them out of his open French doors into the garden where Sev had already set her laptop up. Jo snagged her sunglasses from the outdoor dining table, lounging back on the sofa-seat cushions, out of the sun.

I didn’t mind Simon tugging me back to the kitchen with him one bit. What was I going to tell his sister about the mess of a situationship we’d got ourselves into anyway?

Clattering open his cupboards, Simon frowned into each one like he’d forgotten where he kept anything. I hovered, leaning against the counter by his stupidly complicated coffee machine.

“Grab a bowl from under there, will you?”

I followed orders.

Like Richard’s kitchen, Simon’s had an island. Only, the working area of his was about the size of a tea trolley, not a helicopter pad. Herbs growing in tin-can pots hung on the window side, soaking up the sunlight. Terracotta jars stuffed full of utensils crowded the top.

He dumped a tin of chickpeas into a bullet blender with a spoon of something sticky from a jar.

“I forgot I’d asked Sev to come over. I messaged her as soon as I left the office yesterday.” He crushed a clove of garlic with the flat of his knife under the heel of his hand. “Sorry about Jo, she can be...” He made a face, and didn’t even try to verbalise it.

I glanced guiltily back through the windows out into the garden at her, and purposefully dropped my voice. “She’s nice.”