“Oh, don’t rub it in,” I say. “I’ll be sad for years.”
He laughs and comes to a stop in front of one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. She has long, wavy, nutmeg-coloured hair and a body that even I recognise as banging. She’s wearing skinny jeans with knee-high boots and an oversized green jumper, and she’s flicking through the pages of a magazine.
“Diana,” Freddy says. “This is Arlo.”
She looks up, and her smile startles me. It’s wide and warm, as if she’s greeting an old mate, and her huge, denim-blue eyes sparkle. “Oh my God,” she squeals. “Freddy’s told me so much about you.”
“It’s probably not true,” I say quickly.
“Really?” She looks puzzled. “Did you not hit yourself in the eye with your toothbrush and have to go to hospital?”
“Okay, that bit’s true,” I concur. “It was quite painful.”
“And when you were little, didn’t you go to a caravan and camping show with your dad and had a poo in a caravan toilet?”
Jack laughs, and I shoot him a glare before turning back to her. “That’s true, too. I was six. How was I supposed to know that they hadn’t plumbed in the toilets in the show vehicles?”
She pats Freddy’s arm, and he looks at her as though she’s a golden pint. “My Fred’s always right.”
“Really?” I say, and the incredulity is loud in my voice.
She laughs. “Well, about sixty percent of the time.”
“And the other forty?”
She hums. “He’s probably passed out for that.”
“Oi,” Fred says with no sign of displeasure at all. “I don’t do so much of that anymore. I’m a grown-up.” He kisses her head, and she smiles up at him affectionately. It warms my heart to see someone who looks at him like that, because Freddy’s a terrible picker. He’s always gone for really high-maintenance women which is a huge mistake, because Fred’s as low-maintenance as a sweeping brush.
“How did you two meet?” I ask.
My brother and Bee approach, and Bee immediately hugs Diana, which is good to see. Jack, Tom, and Freddy are incredibly close. There have been times when their partners haven’t been a good fit for their tight-knit circle, Jack’s ex Steven being a prime example. My stomach twists at the thought of Jack someday finding some perfect person who’ll slot smoothly into their group.
Diana laughs. “He was lying under a pool table, and I lured him out by telling him that my parents had a pub.”
Fred shakes his head. “That’s not true at all,” he says. “I was actually fetching a pool ball, and I’d had my eye on her all night.”
“Do your parents own a pub, Diana?” I ask.
She shrugs. “No, they’re solicitors, but all’s fair in love and war.”
I start to laugh. “She’s wonderful,” I say to Fred who grins.
Tom slings his arm around me and ruffles my hair. “Are we ready for some food?”
I squirm out from under his arm and punch him gently in the ribs. “I’m starving.”
“You didn’t have anything to eat on the plane,” Jack says immediately. “You must be really hungry.”
“Why didn’t you eat?” Tom asks.
“I took too many Valium and passed out. Bit difficult to eat when you’re dribbling on Jack’s shoulder.”
Bee bursts into laughter. “Lucky Jack. It’s got to be an improvement on flying with you when you’re actually conscious. The last time we flew when we went to Greece, you nearly got us chucked off by the air steward for cross-questioning her on her safety procedures.”
“I was a concerned citizen,” I say crossly. “And she definitely hadn’t checked that door.”
“Okay,” Tom says. “We should be used to it by now.” He looks at Bee. “He’s always been the same. Even as a small child, flying worried him.”
“It should worry everyone,” I say. “It’s not natural.”
“Well, luckily, worrying everyone became your job,” he says. “I can well remember a flight we took when you were seven. You made a woman have hysterics because you told her very seriously that you thought the plane might blow up.” I shake my head as Jack laughs. “I can still see Mum’s face as she made you swap seats. Meanwhile, the woman was convinced you were a soothsayer. Kept shouting all sorts of questions at you about the future before they escorted her off the plane.”
“I hope those lottery numbers I gave her worked,” I say.
Jack nudges me when my stomach starts rumbling again. “Come on. Let’s feed you. The two of you can squabble later.”
“Squabble?” my brother says. “Who uses that word, apart from old ladies?”
“Me and the rest of the world who read,” Jack says peacefully. “And not you, obviously.”
“That’s why he’s so shit at Scrabble,” I say, following Jack as faithfully as a cocker spaniel.
We exchange smiles with the doorman as we exit the hotel. The wind hits us, nudging icy fingers over our exposed skin, and already I can feel my cheeks pinken.
Jack buttons up his coat, his long fingers quick and deft. He looks up at the sky. “It’s definitely going to snow.”
“Oh my God, that would be so epic,” I say longingly. “Snow at Christmas in Amsterdam.”
Where another man would take the piss and call me a child, Jack just smiles at me. “Let’s hope we get it before we have to go back.”
I smile back at him, and the moment seems to catch and stretch.
He takes a step back, a frown growing on his face.
“I’m so hungry,” I say quickly, hoping to cover the awkwardness.
A bicycle bell rings from somewhere close, and the next second Jack tugs me forward, and I hit him with a thud. “Ouch,” I say.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling back slightly. “You were in the path of those bikes.”
I raise my hand to the departing bicyclists, calling out an apology. The two women smile calmly and cycle on.
“Thanks,” I say to Jack. My voice has gone breathless. He’s so near, and I can feel the warmth of his big body.
“That’s alright,” he says, still looking down at me. His hands remain on my shoulders; the fingers kneading gently into the muscles. “You have to be …” He trails off for a second, his eyes dark and concentrated.
“You have to be what?” I prompt after a few seconds.
He jerks, abruptly dropping his hands. “You have to be careful,” he says briskly. “The bikes are everywhere.”
“You two coming or just standing outside the hotel for a few hours?”
We both start and turn to find Tom watching us curiously. The rest of the group is already at the street corner.
“Of course,” I say quickly. “Jack just saved me from being flattened by a bike.”
“It was an easy mistake to make,” Jack says. “Everyone does it their first time in Amsterdam.”
“Yes, well, not everyone will still be doing it in three days,” my brother says.
“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “I’m not very spatially aware at the best of times.”