Page 108 of If We Were Young

She rolled her eyes and waved Jack away. “Sure they do.” She pointed to the corner of the kitchen where a small alcove led into a dark corner. “Fridge is there, do you want to put the trifle in and get some drinks? Matty will want one too.”

“Sure.” I turned my attention to the forgotten trifle and picked up the spoon, splurging another dollop of cream on the top. My first trifle. I wished Hannah could see it.

There was a loud burst of laughter from the hallway. Someone (not Matthew—there was no accompanying shiver down in my bones) shouted something about the fact the Rangers were going to freeze their fucking knackers off.

I tried to imagine anyone making this much noise in Ma’s house. F-bombs were on a par with Satanism.

My imagination failed me.

Turning, I went to the fridge and carefully slotted in my masterpiece on the middle shelf next to packets of cheese and cold meats, then I grabbed three beers and opened them using a bottle opener I found screwed into the wall.

Lynn pretended very hard not to watch me walk through the kitchen to the hallway with the beers in my hand.

“Who needed a beer?” My voice wavered. Two giant Scots were laughing in the hallway, but the chiming of their laughter stopped as I walked through. Behind them, also taking off coats and stamping their feet were two relatively normal-sized women and about five hundred children. Just as well the house was big on the reception area front.

“Guys, this is Ronnie.” Matthew waved me over and helped me with the bottles of beers, taking two in his hand and then brushing his spare along the base of my spine. I stood straighter, as tall as I could get, which meant he still towered over me with at least a foot to spare.

“Hi, Ronnie. Aye aye, everyone, Matthew has a new girlfriend.” The giant nearest to me with sandy hair and hazel eyes elbowed Matthew straight in the ribs. He winced and retaliated with a deft punch to his brother’s arm.

“Ah, you fu—”

“Liam!” One of the women behind the wall of men shouted, her voice sharp, accent as deep as hills. Liam shut his mouth.

“Ha, dickhead.” Matthew punched him again for good measure before turning to me and grinning wide. He didn’t touch me again, but the air between us tingled. “Liam, is this red-headed idiot,” he lowered his voice to a mock whisper, “thinks he’s a bit part in Disney’s Brave. And this rugged and craggy git is Ryan.”

Both giants appraised me. I shrunk to about three foot four—which wasn’t saying much. “Hi?”

“Don’t bloody mind us, will you, Matthew?” One of the women elbowed around him. “Such a gentleman. I’m Lennie and this is Ruth.” We shook hands and I prayed that my palm wasn’t as sweaty as normal.

Ruth with her black hair and green eyes stepped around the brothers, although I wasn’t sure who belonged to whom. “Hope you don’t want to watch football? They don’t stop talking the whole way through it. Ruin every game they do gasbagging like old women.”

Matthew watched me, heaven and slate analysing everything.

I tested my chest, breathing in, surprised when my lungs filled easily with air. It must be Carling magic.

“UNCLE LIAM!!!” A voice hollered from the front room. The flicker of the television just visible through the open door showed a green pitch and chanting fans. “THEY’RE COMING OUT!!!”

“Do you mind?” Matthew looked uncertainly at me.

“Of course not.”

This was weird. I was at a family dinner. A family tradition to commemorate his dead father and I was being treated like a member of the family. I’d liken it to diving headfirst off a dark cliff and not knowing how far below the bottom of the sea sat.

“Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen and moan about Matthew’s ex.” Lennie grabbed me with a steely grip which made my elbow throb. “And you can tell us all about how you met.”

“Oh. I’m not—”

Dancing

“Lyyyynn.” Once Lennie had pulled me into the kitchen, she shut the door and leant into it, looking straight at Lynn. “Tell us everything? What did she look like?” Her gaze flicked to me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I’ve been waiting hours to hear this.”

“Oh, Eleanor.” Lynn shook her head. “She was bright orange, love. Bright bloody orange. Like Irn-Bru.” Lynn went to the alcove containing the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. Ruth turned for the cupboard on the left and reached up into it, bringing down some glasses.

“That woman.” Lennie banged the table as she sat down.

I’d been immersed headfirst into a conversation I hadn’t a clue about.

“Chablis okay, Ronnie?” Lynn asked, waving a bottle in my face.