Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [18]
Lorna removed the lid and blew into the cup before sipping. ‘It’s Irish coffee,’ she observed.
‘Is it all right?’
‘Absolutely.’ It must have been poured a while earlier because it had cooled to the point where it was easy to drink. She gulped a third of it immediately before becoming conscious of being closely watched. ‘I like a good swallow,’ she whispered, then giggled.
Her remark went without comment. She pretended then to be apologetic, even though a suppressed smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. ‘You don’t approve of my double entendres, do you?’ she asked.
‘I think they’re more habit than cleverness. Or perhaps it’s your way of showing me how outgoing you are; say something daring and I’ll think you’re confident. Is that it?’
Lorna refused to rise to this dig, and instead just snorted. ‘Impressing you isn’t something I’ve ever felt I needed to do. Perhaps I’m only trying to bring you out of your shell. Has that ever occurred to you?’ Then she reminded herself that she hadn’t come out here for an evening of gentle bickering. ‘Come on, let’s walk.’
They strolled on towards the city with the common on their left and the roadway on their right, their two figures becoming synchronized again. Through habit, they both noticed the same things at the same time: a taxi in the distance driving from left to right, three students cycling from right to left, the echo of a bell chiming a late half past to the sleeping denizens of Cambridge.
They were halfway to the next road junction before there was any response to Lorna’s comment. ‘No, I don’t think you could bring me out of my shell, actually.’
‘I thought we’d finished with that conversation.’
‘I don’t think sex is ever far from your mind, is it?’
‘You don’t let things drop, do you?’ Lorna sounded huffy. ‘Nothing wrong with a strong libido, is there?’ she continued and then cheered up when she saw that she was being smirked at. ‘You’re funny,’ she decided.
‘First strange, now funny?’
Lorna sucked on her drink and shrugged.
The railings that kept them from drifting on to the common ran away from them, like a black-painted railroad track, curving left on to Maid’s Causeway, before taking them towards their destination. Lorna’s fingers followed the route, skimming along the horizontal poles and rising and falling at each Victorian dome-topped post.
‘Do you know what I want to know?’
‘What it’s like to have no inhibitions?’ Lorna suggested.
‘Interesting, but no.’ Her companion had stopped walking, and Lorna guessed that they would soon arrive at the real point of the conversation. ‘I want to know exactly what you know about David.’
They were quite alone, but Lorna whispered anyway. The little nods and sounds of encouragement she received spurred her into more detail than she had planned. Earlier in the day, hearing David’s name like that might have startled her, but not now. Now she repeated it with familiarity, as though he’d always been part of their conversations. Her words only dried up when she realized she was no longer being listened to. ‘And that’s it,’ she concluded.
‘I see.’ It was said in a way that told Lorna that this part of the conversation was over. Her companion leant on the railings and Lorna did the same, aware that the mood between them had become subdued. They both gazed back the way they’d come, towards the far end of the common. There was nothing visible, bar the faint glow of the boathouses and restaurants on the other side of the Cam. Nothing discernible, at least. They were alone together and still close enough for their elbows to touch. Her companion broke the silence first.
‘Finish your coffee and I’ll show you something.’
Lorna finished the dregs of her coffee, then took the pen that was being held out to her. ‘So what am I supposed to do with this?’
The marshy land between them and the river lay motionless, as though it held its breath.
‘I want you to write “I’m like Emma” on each palm.’
‘I’m like Emma?’ Lorna’s eyebrows twitched upwards. It seemed like nonsense, but she guessed it wouldn’t hurt to