Fiona Gibson 3 Book Bundle. Fiona Gibson

      Chapter Forty-One

      Harvey’s curry has been eaten and pronounced delicious. Despite his warning about Ethan’s naan-draping tendencies, he actually placed it very politely at the side of his plate, perhaps due to being in the Presence of a Woman. Kerry has enjoyed herself hugely so far, managing to avoid becoming too drunk due to consuming her bodyweight in carbs. And now Ethan – short, chubby, carroty of hair – is standing before them in the small, book-filled living room, having set up a flipchart on a stand.

      ‘From my training days,’ he explains, brandishing a fat black felt tip. ‘I’m a failed actor like Harvey, you see.’ Harvey shoots him a mock-exasperated look.

      ‘What did you train people in?’ Kerry asks from her curled-up position on the sofa.

      ‘Teambuilding, motivation, making things happen – all that stuff.’

      Harvey snorts. ‘Making what sort of things happen, Ethan?’

      ‘Oh, fuck off. Anyway,’ Ethan continues somewhat tipsily, ‘what I’m saying, Kerry, is that you need to view the situation objectively and list the pros and cons. Then you can make an informed decision.’

      ‘What the hell is he talking about?’ Harvey whispers to Kerry as she gives him a baffled shrug.

      ‘So here,’ Ethan says grandly, ‘is Dog.’ In the flipchart’s top left-hand corner, Ethan draws an approximation of a small, droopy-eared hound. ‘And here is Man,’ he continues, sketching a scrawny person, then writing DOG and MAN beneath them, to avoid any confusion. ‘So,’ he addresses Kerry, ‘give me some pros for choosing Dog over Man as your beloved.’

      ‘Er …’ She tears off a small corner of cold chapatti and chews it. ‘Loyal. Cheery. Always pleased to see me. Cuddly. Sweet. Likes playing. Never moans …’

      ‘Whoa, enough, hold on a minute …’

      ‘Never comes home pissed,’ Harvey adds as Ethan scribbles on the board.

      ‘Doesn’t try to broaden my musical tastes,’ Kerry suggests, recalling Rob’s unintelligible jazz phase when the house jarred with squawking saxophones.

      Ethan frowns. ‘Can we just put “good taste in music”?’

      Kerry glances at Buddy who has arranged himself, rather forwardly, across Harvey’s lap. ‘No musical preferences,’ she suggests. ‘That’s definitely a plus.’

      ‘Now cons?’ Ethan prompts Kerry.

      ‘Poos on pavement,’ she replies.

      ‘Anything else?’

      ‘Actually, I can’t think of any. Can we move onto Man now?’

      ‘Okay, Man: pros,’ Ethan says bossily.

      ‘Er.’ She cannot think of one positive thing.

      ‘C’mon, Kerry,’ he smirks, ‘there must be something the male of the species is good for.’

      She shakes her head. ‘Don’t like Man. Man impregnate editorial assistant,’ which has them all convulsing with laughter.

      ‘Not your ex,’ Ethan says. ‘He sounds like a jerk. I’m talking generic everyman …’

      ‘He’s bloody lost it,’ Harvey chuckles.

      ‘Okay,’ Ethan bellows, ‘what can a man give you that a dog can’t?’

      She considers this for a moment, feeling slightly sleepy now, full of delicious curry and wine and thinking about the walk home – only fifteen minutes, but still, it’s freezing out there. Anyway, the only pro she can think of to place Man above Dog is sex and right now, she doesn’t really want to go there.

      ‘Could I be cheeky,’ she says, ‘and ask for a coffee, Ethan?’

      ‘What, not another proper drink? Come on, it’s still early …’

      ‘Thanks, but I’d better head home. It’s been lovely, thank you, and you’ve really helped me to think about things … objectively.’ She catches Harvey’s eye and smiles as Ethan heads to the kitchen.

      ‘Come and give me a hand, Harvey,’ he calls back.

      ‘I’m sure you remember how to operate the kettle,’ Harvey mutters, but extracts himself from beneath Buddy anyway, who flops onto Kerry instead.

      She sits there, looking at the flipchart bearing Ethan’s wonky scrawlings. ‘You embarrassed her,’ she hears Harvey murmur, just audible over the low music.

      ‘No I didn’t.’

      ‘Jesus, Ethan.’

      ‘She didn’t say the obvious, though – that a dog can’t take her out to dinner …’ There’s a snigger, and Kerry can’t decide if they don’t care that she might be able to hear, or are just drunk and think they’re whispering.

      ‘I’d take her out,’ Ethan slurs.

      ‘Oh, shut up.’

      ‘No, I would! Seriously. She’s fucking gorgeous, Harv. You never said. I’d even put up with her dog – I could always take an antihistamine …’

      ‘What are you on about?’

      Ethan snorts. ‘You come back from your lessons making her sound plain and dreary …’ Kerry blinks down at her rice-speckled plate on the coffee table.