‘Have a hot chocolate.’
‘It’s twenty degrees outside!’ Gavin responded.
‘A cold chocolate then. Uses less energy so a win for the environment.’ The Other Sharon Osbourne turned her attention away from Gavin and sent Lucie a wink. Somehow the woman seemed to know this was a crunch beverage buying session that could determine whether they booked a package holiday or not.
Lucie noticed that Gavin had started to sweat in the queue and was pulling the scrub hat he’d insisted on wearing since Monday lower down over his forehead. His eyebrows were four days into new growth and not a lot was happening, despite endless rubbing of moisturising lotion and internet searches for ‘cures’. It was a bit like her Aunt Meg impatiently waiting for her chili pepper plants to sprout. Lucie’s hair, on the other hand, was already beginning to look a lot better. Well, by that, she meant she had just about got used to catching her reflection and not wondering who the thug was who had broken into her flat in the night. They had also started to piece together some of the rest of that night too. After the Mexican meal they’d gone to a casino. And Sharon had been with them…
‘Luce,’ Gavin whispered. ‘What shall I ask for?’
‘A date,’ Lucie told him. ‘That was the deal.’
‘That wasn’t the deal,’ Gavin shot back. ‘The deal was talking to him about something other than coffee.’
‘You knew what I meant. And you want me to come on holiday with you, don’t you?’ Lucie asked, toying with the lanyard around her neck.
‘You going on holiday?’ Sharon asked. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ Gavin answered.
‘I’ve always fancied Costa Rica,’ Sharon breathed.
‘I thought you’d always fancied Jason Momoa,’ Gavin said.
‘Pot calling,’ Sharon replied with a smile.
‘You’d better get your game face on,’ Lucie told Gavin as the person in front moved up a place in the queue. ‘It’s nearly your turn to order.’
‘Not “rich, dark Colombian”. Not “rich, dark Colombian”,’ Gavin chanted like it was a mantra for life.
The Other Sharon Osbourne turned towards Lucie then. Was it Lucie’s imagination or was her trademark blue eyeshadow even more vivid today? She tried not to get distracted by it.
‘I’ve heard very good things about Greece,’ Sharon said, touching her nose with her finger. ‘Handled the global pandemic efficiently and effectively. Has all the beautiful sea scenes, a cuisine Rick Stein gets excited about and have you seen their prime minister?’
‘Does he knock Boris off the beauty pageant podium?’ Lucie asked.
‘Watch him on YouTube is all I’m saying.’ Sharon let out a lusty sigh. ‘I have no idea what he’s talking about. It’s all Greek to me. But those eyes…’
‘Hey, Gavin.’
It was Simon’s voice. Lucie focussed everything on what was happening ahead of her. It was Gavin’s turn to be served and Simon had greeted him with a warm smile like always.
‘Hi, Simon. Could I have…’ Gavin began, all pink cheeks and the scrub hat almost getting caught up in his eyelashes.
‘Let me guess?’ Simon started. ‘A rich, dar—’
‘No,’ Lucie butted in. She didn’t know why she had broken in, except she knew if Simon completed Gavin’s sentence for him then Gavin would bottle it.
‘No?’ Simon asked, looking close to astounded.
‘N…o,’ Gavin managed to mumble.
Lucie gave him an elbow as his cheeks turned quickly from a light pink shade she’d once tried as nail varnish to the menopausal-hot-flush-red The Other Sharon Osbourne had turned last winter.
‘I’ve heard,’ Sharon began, ‘that Gavin fancies something rich, dark and from Hampshire.’
Now Gavin was turning as purple as an aubergine, which was kind of ironic… But Lucie felt for him. Trust Sharon to put her size eights in it.
‘Really?’ Simon replied, his expression giving away absolutely nothing.
‘No,’ Gavin interrupted. ‘No… I… very much… still want my coffee from South America.’
‘Oh,’ Sharon exclaimed. ‘We were talking about coffee, were we?’
‘Gavin,’ Lucie said softly. ‘Tell Simon what you want.’
‘What you really really want,’ Sharon added, all Spice Girl.
‘I’ll,’ Gavin began, fingers scratching nervously at his scrub hat, ‘have… a sausage… roll.’
‘O-K,’ Simon replied. ‘To eat in or to go?’
‘I expect the answer’s any way up, darlin’,’ Sharon responded with a cackle.
Gavin looked so hot now that Lucie was worried he might actually faint. It was time to come to her best friend’s rescue.
‘Two rich, dark Colombians as well,’ Lucie ordered. ‘Gav, why don’t you go and find us a seat? I’ll bring everything over.’
‘Yeah,’ Sharon said. ‘Go and sit down before you fall down. I’ll have a hot chocolate, Simon, and don’t be stingy on the cream.’
‘Is Gavin OK?’ Simon asked, his dark eyes following the unsure steps of the nurse as he retreated from the queue and headed towards the tables.
‘He’s OK,’ Sharon said. ‘If you can be OK when you’ve got drunk enough to have your eyebrows shaved off.’
‘He shaved off his eyebrows?’ Simon remarked. Lucie couldn’t tell if he was appalled or impressed. And no one actually remembered anything about the shaving…
‘We don’t talk about that, Sharon,’ Lucie reminded.
‘Like we don’t talk about your hair either?’
‘Sharon, why don’t you take the weight off your feet too and I’ll bring your hot chocolate over,’ Lucie said, desperate to get rid of the woman whose jaw was currently seeing more action than a hairdressing salon after lifted restrictions.
‘And pay for it?’ Sharon asked, grinning because she already knew she was on to a winner.
‘Yes, I’ll pay for it.’ Lucie smiled at Simon while she waited for Sharon to depart.
‘So,’ Simon said to Lucie. ‘One hot chocolate with too much cream. Two rich, dark Colombians. And a sausage roll.’
Lucie held her breath. Should she? Would Gavin thank her or maybe shave off something else that belonged to her? It didn’t bear thinking about. Or was it worth the risk? Perhaps sometimes you had to take one…
‘And a phone number,’ Lucie blurted out. ‘Your phone number that is.’ She smiled and silently prayed.
‘Oh, wow,’ Simon began, his cheeks reddening now. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say it with digits,’ Lucie pleaded. ‘Please!’
‘Well, I…’
‘Come on,’ Lucie carried on. ‘You must know Gavin’s been trying to attract your attention since way before anyone knew who Chris Whitty was. And—’
‘Oh,’ Simon said. ‘I thought you meant you wanted my phone number.’
‘What? No. God, no,’ Lucie said quickly. ‘Sorry… that came out far harsher than I meant it to. And you’re lovely. Really lovely. But you’re—’
‘I’m not gay,’ Simon butted in.
Lucie pulled a face like someone had just told her Graham Norton was straight. ‘Not gay?’
‘Not gay,’ Simon repeated. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh.’ Lucie didn’t know what to say. How had they all got it so wrong? Her profile-building hadn’t been from looks or mannerisms alone. Although Gavin had insisted Simon always wore ‘queer jeans’. She had, over the months, asked him all sorts of leading questions about his weekend pursuits and musical tastes. Granted, he had never admitted to being all over Sam Smith, Panic at the Disco! and Cher like Gavin was, but she’d discovered Simon spent a disproportionate amount of time at the gym, had deep opinions about fashion and seemed to know exactly who Carson Kressley was. And surely Gavin had to have a gaydar that worked, right?
‘Not gay?’ Lucie asked again. ‘Are you sure?’
Simon seemed to wince then, looking increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation continued. ‘I think I’d know.’
Lucie nodded. ‘Yes, yes, I guess you would. Of course you would.’
It took Simon seconds to rustle up their orders, all done in complete silence with neither of them knowing where to look. Lucie was glad to leave the counter even when she knew she was swapping it for the eager anticipation in Gavin’s eyes and despite knowing she was going to have to break devastating news.
‘Well?’ Gavin asked immediately, before Lucie had even had a chance to sit down.
‘Well,’ Lucie said. ‘Here’s your sausage roll and your coffee. And, Sharon, one hot chocolate with more cream than an Elmlea factory.’
‘Ta,’ Sharon answered, grabbing the mug.
‘Is that it?’ Gavin wanted to know. ‘Because you were talking for forever and Simon went red.’
‘Well, I have good news for you,’ Lucie said. ‘That’s all you need to know.’ She plumped down onto a seat and smiled at her best friend. ‘We’re going on holiday. And you can even choose the location.’
Lucie watched Gavin’s whole face light up in excitement. She was an excellent best friend. And Gavin was right, they did deserve a time-out after all they had been through. She just needed to trust that breaking her routines for once couldn’t really kick off a tsunami.
‘Really?!’ Gavin exclaimed. ‘You really mean it?!’
‘I really mean it,’ Lucie told him, nodding. ‘I’m in.’
The bad news about Simon was going to be much better delivered with a cooling cocktail in her hand while Gavin coated himself in coconut oil under a tattoo-searing hot sun.