‘Calendar shoot.’
Carmen laughed aloud.
‘Seriously?’
‘I know,’ said Blair. ‘Oh well.’
He zipped his hoodie up again and gradually let himself drip back onto the table.
‘Hang on – is the only way I can get you off my cash register going to lunch?’
‘Uh-huh,’ came the muffled voice.
‘Oh, here comes Emily.’
Emily was clip-clopping up the road with a cardboard case full of coffee cups.
‘Oh no! I’m trapped! Please don’t let me do local radio.’
‘I love local radio!’
‘Who cares? Come on, take me out the back way. Come on. Now. Let’s rush.’
He gave her a sarcastic flash of that ridiculous grin. Emily was getting closer, poring over her phone.
‘Oh God, she’s going to tell me to do something extra. And I need some Dutch courage before the hospital. Come. Come. Please!’
He looked up at her then, and his brown eyes were yearning and sincere rather than attempting to be soulful.
‘Oh God,’ said Carmen.
At that point, looking bemused, Mr McCredie bumbled into view. ‘Ah, Carmen … ’
‘Lunch break!’ shouted Blair. ‘We’re just off for lunch break.’ He bounced up from his prone position. ‘I’ll bring her back in an hour … ish.’
‘A lunch break?’ said Mr McCredie, as if he’d said, ‘A swim in an aquarium?’
As he never left the shop himself, Carmen had drawn the conclusion that he couldn’t imagine a reason why anybody would ever want to.
That sealed it. She stepped forwards and looked up at Blair.
‘Seriously?’ he said, not looking at all like the confident salesman of earlier.
‘Hurry up,’ she said.
And at that, he grabbed her arm and ran through the shop just as Emily, still not looking up from her phone, dinged the bell behind them.
‘This place is insane,’ said Blair, tugging her along in the dark. Carmen couldn’t help it, she felt laughter bubbling up inside her, as well as something in the sheer daftness of running away from somebody. They charged up the twisting staircase, Blair pausing – he had hardly noticed it on the way down – to be impressed by Mr McCredie’s sitting room – ‘He has, like a bat cave,’ he breathed. ‘But the bat cave is just, like, mouldy old books. That is excellent!’ – and they charged through the little alleyway door at the end. Blair found himself looking up again.
‘This town is nuts,’ he said, looking at the towering buildings above and below him. ‘Did someone build it? Or did it just grow?’
Carmen didn’t know any restaurants properly around the place, so they went to the one in Blair’s hotel. It was a fish restaurant, extremely smart, in a glass box overlooking the street, with an iced bar full of lobsters and oysters. Carmen looked at them anxiously.
‘Shellfish?’ he said.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Carmen. ‘Normally my fish turns up in a tin with a key. Or golden and very hot. That doesn’t look remotely hot.’
Blair smiled his Proper Famous Person smile at the waiter.
‘Can we have a table by the window, a bottle of Louis Roederer and a dozen oysters? To start with.’
Lunch with Blair was dizzying. Things just fell into place. Champagne appeared out of nowhere and napkins were unfurled. Carmen watched Blair scoff oysters with undisguised glee, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do the same.