“I didn’t know that. How old was he?”
“Twenty-seven,” I say, tongue in cheek. Watching him laugh with pleasure is a joy. “Not really. He was eight. And that was the end of his life as a career criminal.”
“It’s a sad loss to the villain fraternity.”
I chuckle and climb out of the car, looking around avidly. All along the canal, streetlights are starting to come on. They’re old wrought-iron lights and give the whole place a Narnia-ish feel. Then the wind comes up in a sudden freezing gust, snapping the flag to attention in its flagpole.
I hasten to grab my messenger bag from Jack, who is watching me with an indulgent smile. “It’s so cold.” I shudder. “I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting that.”
He shoots a glance at the darkening sky. “I reckon we could have some snow,” he muses.
“Really?” I say excitedly and then sober. “Won’t the planes skid and crash on the runway?” I pause. “Maybe we could catch a train home instead,” I say hopefully. “Just to avoid the plane pile up.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his wide mouth. “Why don’t we just focus on celebrating you surviving the plane journey today, and save the worry about planes becoming dodgem cars for another day?”
I nudge him. “You’re so wise.”
The hotel’s warmth is almost shocking as we enter a very funky lobby. There’s a wooden floor and huge velvet sofas in bright primary colours, and the whole place smells of cinnamon. A display of bikes, all sprayed different colours, hangs on an old brick wall.
I hear my name being called, and I turn only to get swept up into a tight hug. I inhale the scent of Acqua Di Parma and relax into the embrace.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” my brother says, pulling back and ruffling my hair.
I attempt a half-hearted glare as I try to smooth the wayward strands, but he just grins at me and hugs me again.
“Can’t breathe, Tom,” I finally gasp, and he pulls back. “Wow,” I say. “Last time we were this close, you were trying to murder me while telling Dad you were practising a wrestling hold.”
He grins at me. “We were kids, and I was doing a wrestling hold. The murdering you bit was just a happy coincidence.”
I laugh, and we smile at each other with affection. When we were kids, we argued like cats and dogs, but we’ve always been incredibly close, and I love him deeply. Love him and want to strangle him. I shrug. That’s brothers, I suppose.
We look vaguely similar with our grey eyes, but while his short, sleekly styled hair is a dark brown colour like my mum’s, my wavy mop is a reddish-brown. He sports a manly amount of designer stubble, and I couldn’t grow a beard if my life depended on it. I’ve seen more hair on a Sphynx cat than on my body.
He moves away to hug Jack, the two of them laughing at something. As friends, they’re a perfect match. Jack gives my brother some of his calm self-confidence, while Tom gives Jack a family of friends and relatives who are warm and utterly unlike Jack’s parents. The two men have stayed close through girlfriends and boyfriends, school and uni, and I doubt even an earthquake or a zombie apocalypse could separate them now.
“Alright, Arlo?”
I turn and smile at my brother-in-law, Bee. I’m calling him that in my head already, because I refuse to believe he won’t say yes to Tom. The two of them are made for each other. I hold out my arms, and we hug. “It’s so good to see you,” he says as he pulls back.
Bee’s bright blue eyes shine behind his dark-framed glasses, and when he smiles, the small gap between his front teeth gives him a gamin quality. “Tom is behaving very strangely.”
“Well, that’s normal. Not sure what you’re hoping I’ll be able to do about it.”
He shakes his head, the smile still playing on his lips. “No, he’s absolutely obsessed with everything being perfect.”
“That’s to cover up his own ginormous inadequacies,” I say solemnly.
He laughs, and I look at him affectionately. His dark hair has a bright red streak running through it and has been cut into a shaggy pixie style that flatters his sharp features. Over the years that I’ve known him, he’s had numerous styles and colours. It seems to be a way of him expressing his feelings, and I’ve seen him with long hair, a buzz cut, and once a bright green mohawk.
His tiny stature can lead people to believe that he’s fragile, but they’d be very wrong, as he’s as strong as an ox and probably as stubborn. I’ve loved him since Tom brought him home after their holiday together, and he banded with me in taking the piss out of Tom. Last month I told people at a family wedding that Bee was my brother and Tom was actually my brother-in-law. I got told off by my grandma, but my dad roared with laughter and wondered aloud if it would be so easy to disinherit all of us.
I eye my brother and Jack, and Bee elbows me. “Did you enjoy your flight?” he says.
“God, your arms are freakishly strong,” I complain. “Have you been sharpening your elbows?”
“All the better to find out if you finally made a move on Jack.”
I stare at him. “Have you been huffing glue? Of course, I didn’t make a move.”
He leans against the back of a bright purple sofa. “Why not? He’s single now. Did he tell you?”
“He did.”
“Well…”
I wag my finger at him. “Shut up. That means nothing. He’ll replace Steven with another perfect model fresh off the conveyor belt.”
“This could be your chance,” he whispers.
“Your chance at what?” my brother asks from behind us
Bee and I jump guiltily. “At a dance,” I say quickly, pulling Bee into my arms and waltzing him around as he laughs helplessly.
My brother watches Bee with an affectionate smile on his face.
“Where’s Freddy?” I ask.
Tom waves his hand rather cavalierly. “We lost him.”
I stop dancing. “Where?”
“Why do people always say that? If I knew where we’d lost him, he wouldn’t be lost.”
I blink. “Were you drinking?” He nods, and I relax. “He’ll turn up, then. He’s like a very well-muscled homing pigeon.”
“Let’s get you checked in,” Bee says. “This hotel is bloody lush. Wait until you see your room.”
I step up to the desk where Jack is currently having what appears to be a very serious conversation with the concierge.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” he mutters, looking unusually frazzled.
“What’s up?” my brother asks, prepared, as usual, to ride to the rescue. He watched Lord of the Rings as a child, and it had a profound impact on him. He likely still wishes we could pretend to ride horses and wear suits of armour. His armour, of course, would be perfect and shiny, while mine would be dinged and look like I’d rolled in cow shit.
“I’m so sorry,” the concierge says. “There’s been a mistake.”
“What mistake?” I ask, sidling closer to Jack.
“I cancelled the double occupancy,” Jack says, looking at me for some reason rather than at my brother, who’s ducking and weaving like a meerkat as he tries to listen. “Because Steven wasn’t coming.”