he’d read Mandy’s romances, but they’d confused him more than ever. He only knew he wanted to put Alfred’s mind at rest.
“I would never hurt you. You’re the closest I have to a friend.”
Alfred looked away for a moment. Josh worried he’d spoken out of turn. When he did speak there was an odd quality to his voice.
“We’re overexcited. Frazzled, I expect.”
“Do you want to run through your speech?”
“Give me some room for improvement.”
The Launch
A night at the Palace. Now there was a thought to freeze the blood.
Alfred was lousy at these things. Ken used to cry off them, so he’d go as Gussy’s moral support. She linked her arm through his like a benevolent jailer, always knowing what to say. After she died he lost the knack. He stood in the corner, talked too much or too little, got drunk. When he was banned from the Palace he heaved a sigh of relief.
Now Josh had persuaded him otherwise. Damn the lad. If it wasn’t enough he had to wear a monkey suit, he’d agreed to talk. He hoped it’d go down better than his best man’s speech.
He was on his third lap of the hall, Puss shadowing. Josh should be here by now. Maybe there was a strike. Maybe he’d broken down. Maybe -
The bell pealed. He reached the door before Gwyn.
“Do me out of a job, why don’t you?”
He grinned. “Carry on like that, I’ll get Bill to drive. Ruffle a few royalist feathers.”
She made a face. He pulled a worse one back. Josh stared at them, baffled. “Have I picked a bad time?”
“No, you’re very punctual.”
“It’s as unpunctual to be early as it is to be late. I like to be on time.”
“If you say so.” ‘Alfred Time’ was a family joke. His idea of two hours later was half a day, if he remembered. Poor Gwyn got furious about it.
“You look terrific,” the artificial said.
Alfred would have suspected anyone else of sarcasm. Josh really did look terrific. Slim and pale as a ghost, his tie and the orchid in his buttonhole the only touch of colour.
“I brought you one.” Josh patted an orchid into place on Alfred’s lapel. The flower looked flimsy beside the tweed but the thought was there. “Now we match.”
“Where did you get them?”
“I’m growing them on the roof garden.”
“They’re wonderful.”
Josh put his arm through his. “Are you ready?”
“Born ready.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that. How cringe inducing.
They’d been driving for an hour, eating sherbets and playing the games you do on long journeys. They were well into Gwyn’s favourite, making silly sentences from letters on vix plates. She and Josh were giggling at ‘Yeti Safety Blanket’ and ‘Evil Breakfast Attacks’ when Alfred was seized by a panic attack.
He knew the symptoms. His eye twitched, his leg jingled, he gripped his knees. His chest became a balloon swelling to bursting point, his mouth arid. From a great height he heard Josh say, “He’s gone funny,” and Gwyn exclaim, “Not again!”
“Is he alright?”
“Give him a nip from his flask.”
“He’s not supposed to be drinking.”
“It’s medicinal.”
“Shouldn’t he breathe into a bag?”
“Doesn’t work.” She pulled into a higgledy piggledy lane and tethered against a tree. He felt her patting his face but couldn’t tell her to stop it.
“Alfred.” The mist parted. Josh looked down at him. “Can you hear me?”
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“If I’m worked up.”
“It’s not too late to go back.”
“I promised I’d lend moral support -”
“- and you keep your word.” He held out the flask. “Need this?”
Alfred wanted it so badly, he could taste it, but dreaded Josh’s disappointment. “There’s pills in the glove compartment.”
“I’m proud of you.”
He heaved himself into a sitting position. “This had better be worth it.”
“C’mon.” Gwyn had returned. “We’ll be late if we don’t get a move
“I would never hurt you. You’re the closest I have to a friend.”
Alfred looked away for a moment. Josh worried he’d spoken out of turn. When he did speak there was an odd quality to his voice.
“We’re overexcited. Frazzled, I expect.”
“Do you want to run through your speech?”
“Give me some room for improvement.”
The Launch
A night at the Palace. Now there was a thought to freeze the blood.
Alfred was lousy at these things. Ken used to cry off them, so he’d go as Gussy’s moral support. She linked her arm through his like a benevolent jailer, always knowing what to say. After she died he lost the knack. He stood in the corner, talked too much or too little, got drunk. When he was banned from the Palace he heaved a sigh of relief.
Now Josh had persuaded him otherwise. Damn the lad. If it wasn’t enough he had to wear a monkey suit, he’d agreed to talk. He hoped it’d go down better than his best man’s speech.
He was on his third lap of the hall, Puss shadowing. Josh should be here by now. Maybe there was a strike. Maybe he’d broken down. Maybe -
The bell pealed. He reached the door before Gwyn.
“Do me out of a job, why don’t you?”
He grinned. “Carry on like that, I’ll get Bill to drive. Ruffle a few royalist feathers.”
She made a face. He pulled a worse one back. Josh stared at them, baffled. “Have I picked a bad time?”
“No, you’re very punctual.”
“It’s as unpunctual to be early as it is to be late. I like to be on time.”
“If you say so.” ‘Alfred Time’ was a family joke. His idea of two hours later was half a day, if he remembered. Poor Gwyn got furious about it.
“You look terrific,” the artificial said.
Alfred would have suspected anyone else of sarcasm. Josh really did look terrific. Slim and pale as a ghost, his tie and the orchid in his buttonhole the only touch of colour.
“I brought you one.” Josh patted an orchid into place on Alfred’s lapel. The flower looked flimsy beside the tweed but the thought was there. “Now we match.”
“Where did you get them?”
“I’m growing them on the roof garden.”
“They’re wonderful.”
Josh put his arm through his. “Are you ready?”
“Born ready.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that. How cringe inducing.
They’d been driving for an hour, eating sherbets and playing the games you do on long journeys. They were well into Gwyn’s favourite, making silly sentences from letters on vix plates. She and Josh were giggling at ‘Yeti Safety Blanket’ and ‘Evil Breakfast Attacks’ when Alfred was seized by a panic attack.
He knew the symptoms. His eye twitched, his leg jingled, he gripped his knees. His chest became a balloon swelling to bursting point, his mouth arid. From a great height he heard Josh say, “He’s gone funny,” and Gwyn exclaim, “Not again!”
“Is he alright?”
“Give him a nip from his flask.”
“He’s not supposed to be drinking.”
“It’s medicinal.”
“Shouldn’t he breathe into a bag?”
“Doesn’t work.” She pulled into a higgledy piggledy lane and tethered against a tree. He felt her patting his face but couldn’t tell her to stop it.
“Alfred.” The mist parted. Josh looked down at him. “Can you hear me?”
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“If I’m worked up.”
“It’s not too late to go back.”
“I promised I’d lend moral support -”
“- and you keep your word.” He held out the flask. “Need this?”
Alfred wanted it so badly, he could taste it, but dreaded Josh’s disappointment. “There’s pills in the glove compartment.”
“I’m proud of you.”
He heaved himself into a sitting position. “This had better be worth it.”
“C’mon.” Gwyn had returned. “We’ll be late if we don’t get a move
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