Neil was puffing. He stopped running around and put his hands on his hips, bending forward to ease the stitch in his side. “Edward. You seem to be hitting that little ball with rather more venom than is absolutely necessary.”
Ed stopped running about too. His face was set with determination. “What?”
“You’re thrashing me already. Can’t we just ease up into knockabout mode, like normal? I’ll let you win and buy the beers if that helps.”
Ed wiped the sweat from his forehead with his T-shirt. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You seem to be on a mission to launch that rather inoffensive little squash ball into outer space. You’re no fun to play with when you’re like this. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Ed bounced around on his toes a bit and eased his shoulders in an attempt to loosen them up. Squash courts always stank of sweaty trainers, and it was grating on his nerves. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Neil held up his hands. “I give in. No more. I’ve got a cramp in everything. It all hurts. I can’t run another step. If I had a white flag, I’d get down on my knees and wave it.”
Ed was getting agitated. He’d been like it all day. “Just hit the ball, Neil.”
“Did the bird in the bikini saw one of her legs off?”
Ed stopped and stared at his brother. “What?”
“In the Performing Power thing advert?”
“No. She did not.”
Neil snorted. “Well, it must have been something pretty catastrophic.”
“It’s nothing, okay? Now, hit the ball.”
Neil shook his head. “I’ve had enough. You hit it.” He threw the ball to his brother. Ed caught it on the fly and slammed it hard into the back wall, grunting with the effort. The ball, reluctant to take any more abuse, rebounded faster than a speeding bullet and hit Ed squarely in the eye.
Much, much later, Neil came ambling into the bar fingering his damp hair. Ed was clutching a bag of Sizzling Steak Ranch Fries to his injured eye. “I don’t think Sizzling Steak Ranch Fries will work in the same way,” Neil advised as he sat on the stool next to his brother. “You need raw meat for swelling.”
“You’re a bloody photographer,” Ed growled, “what do you know about first aid?”
“More than you, it seems.”
“It was all they had and I’ve got an ice cube under them, clever dick.”
“Oh.”
“You could hose down three elephants in the time it’s taken you to have a shower.”
“Are you ready to talk about what’s wrong now, or do you want me to put the other eye out for you first?”
Ed scowled in what would have been a menacing way if his face hadn’t been half-obscured by a packet of crisps. Neil sat in silence. Eventually, Ed sighed and said, “Orla’s offered me a job. A good job. Back in films.”
Neil shrugged. “Great.”
“In the States.”
“Less great.”
“Ali won’t even consider it.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
Ed glared at Neil again, but it hurt his cheek. “No, I transmitted it to her telepathically while she was asleep.” He nursed his beer sullenly.
“And?”
“And I should let it go. But I can’t.” Ed adjusted his crisps. “I feel like someone is dangling a big juicy carrot in front of me.”
“I hate carrots.”
Ed ignored him. “It’s so close I can smell it, but it’s just out of reach and I can’t bear the thought that it might always be.”
“Orla?”
“Orla what?”
“Orla’s holding the carrot?”
“I suppose so.”
“And is that part of the problem?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So Ali doesn’t know about Orla?”
“There’s nothing to know.” He had waited all day to talk to Orla, but she was busy. Busy analyzing this and reviewing that. He’d tried to bump into her over lunch and in the little kitchen where they all made coffee, but there were too many people around. She had smiled noncommittally at him in the way that people do when they have shared secret knowledge, and it churned his stomach so much that he couldn’t drink the coffee he hadn’t wanted to make in the first place. Ed was desperate to talk more to her about the job, what it entailed, who were the movers and shakers these days, he wanted to hear it all even though he knew it would torture him, because eventually he would have to tell her that he couldn’t take it. All his dreams snuffed out in one little sentence.
Neil frowned vacantly. “I don’t know what to say, bro.”
“Now do you see why it was pointless even discussing it?” Ed took his crisps away from his eye and prodded the area gingerly before putting them back. “I’ve lived my life nursing this regret and I didn’t even know it. And now I’ve got a chance to put it right. What if you had one thing stopping you from achieving your big break, your lifetime’s ambition?”
“I have.”
Ed looked at his brother. “What?”
Neil wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Lack of talent.”
“Lack of motivation more like,” Ed snorted. “You’re just an idle bastard.”
“And maybe you’re too driven,” Neil said. “Stop and look at what you’ve got. Count your blessings. You’re healthy, wealthy and sometimes, on rare occasions, wise. You could spend your life chasing rainbows and never find a pot of gold. Believe me, the only thing at the end of most rainbows is a crock of shit.”
Ed started to laugh. “You’re going to start singing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side’ in a minute, aren’t you?”
“I might.”
Ed took his bag of Sizzling Steak Ranch Fries from his eye and dropped the sliver of melted ice cube that remained into the ashtray on the bar. Then he tore the bag open and offered it to Neil. “Want a crisp?”
“No thanks.” Neil grimaced. “It’d be like eating a surgical dressing.” He jumped down from his bar stool. “Come on, let’s get you home. Do you think you need to pop into Casualty on the way back just to get your eye checked out?”
“No.” Ed shook his head. “It’ll be fine. I can see things quite clearly.”
Neil picked up his car keys and stared at Ed. “I hope so, bro. I sincerely hope so.”