‘Curry?’ We all turned to see Tom padding downstairs in his pyjamas and an open dressing gown, rubbing his eyes. His pyjama bottoms were knotted very low, barely above his hipbones, and there was an impressive amount of buff muscle on display.
‘Tim, hate to tell you, you forgot your shirt,’ Nina said. ‘I think you should put it on. You don’t want to tempt poor Nora beyond what she can bear.’
I threw a toast crust at her. She dodged, and it hit Flo.
‘Oops, sorry Flo.’
‘Stop it you two!’ Flo scolded. Tom only yawned, but he belted up his dressing gown and winked at me.
‘What’s the plan for today then?’ he asked as he took a piece of toast from the plate Flo shoved at him.
‘Shooting,’ Nina said, deadpan. Tom’s eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath his hair.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Shooting. Apparently that’s Flo’s idea of a jolly.’
Flo gave Nina a look, not quite sure if she was having the piss taken out of her or not.
‘Clay-pigeon shooting actually,’ she said defiantly. ‘It’s fun!’
‘OK.’ Tom chewed his toast and looked round the table. ‘Am I the last one up? Oh – no. Melanie’s still asleep, I presume?’
‘Melanie—’ Flo began indignantly, but at that moment Clare came in from the living room and answered, raising her voice firmly above Flo’s.
‘Melanie had to go,’ she said. ‘Family stuff. Don’t worry, Tom, either me or Nina will give you a lift back to Newcastle. But the good news is, it means we can all fit in the same car now, so we don’t have to worry about navigating – I’ll drive, and Flo can direct, as she knows where it is.’
‘Great,’ Nina said. ‘Super. We can all sing “Ten Green Bottles” and fight in the back seat. I can hardly wait.’
‘OK, so I think it’s time for the quiz,’ Flo said. She craned round in her seat to look at me, Nina and Tom in the back. I was crushed in the middle and feeling car sick already, not helped by Tom’s headily overpowering aftershave. Or maybe it was Clare’s perfume. It was hard to tell in the confined space. I wanted to open a window but it was snowing outside, and the heater was on full blast.
‘It’s Clare vs you guys,’ Flo continued. ‘Fingers on buzzers please for round one.’
‘Wait, wait,’ Nina shouted. ‘A quiz on what, and what’s the prize?’
‘A quiz on James of course,’ Clare said from the front seat, amused. ‘Right, Flops?’
‘Of course!’ Flo said. She was laughing. I felt more and more like vomiting. ‘Prize … I don’t know. Glory? Oh, no, I’ve got it. The losing team can wear these for the rest of the day!’
She dug around in her rucksack and brought out a handful of skimpy underwear, emblazoned with the slogan I ? JAMES COOPER on the bum.
I felt every muscle in my body go stiff with anger. Nina coughed, and glanced at me sympathetically.
‘Um, Flo …’ she said diffidently, but Flo ploughed on.
‘Don’t worry! Over trousers I mean – or on your head or something. Right, first question. This is for Team Backseat, with a bonus point to Clare for any that you fail to get that she guesses correctly. What is James’ middle name?’
I shut my eyes against the car sickness and listened to Nina and Tom arguing it over.
‘Pretty sure it begins with a C,’ Tom was saying. ‘So I’m thinking, Chris?’
Karl. With a K.
‘It’s not,’ Nina insisted. ‘It’s something to do with Russia. His dad was a professor of Russian politics. Theodor. Or what’s Stalin’s first name?’
‘Joseph. But I’m sure it’s not Joseph. Besides, who’d name their kid after Stalin?’
‘OK not Stalin then. Name another famous Russian.’
I gritted my teeth. Karl.
‘Dostoevsky? Lenin? Marx?’
‘Marx!’ Nina shouted. ‘It’s Karl. I’m sure of it.’
In spite of my growing nausea, I had to crack a smile at her competitiveness. Nina was incapable of losing at anything – an argument, a board game – she often said it was the reason she didn’t do any competitive sport, because she couldn’t bear losing to someone, even if that someone was Usain Bolt.
‘Is that your final answer?’ Flo asked seriously. My eyes were still closed but I felt Nina nodding vigorously beside me.
‘Karl. With a K.’
‘Correct! Question two. What is James’ star sign?’
‘He’s old in the year,’ Nina said straight off. ‘I remember that. He’s definitely September or October.’
‘No, I think it’s August,’ Tom said. ‘I’m sure it’s August.’
They bickered amicably back and forth, swapping evidence, until Nina said, ‘Nora, what do you – wait, are you OK? Your face is a bit green.’
‘I’m feeling a bit sick,’ I said shortly.