Chapter 3

Chapter Three

BEE

E dinburgh is beautiful, its streets teeming with people. There’s a lot of construction and scaffolding going on, but the old buildings are lovely. They’re four or five storeys high, many of them a graceful Georgian design with grey-gold stone that’s darkened with the years. Christmas lights are everywhere, blinking gold and red against the grey sky.

Jack, Steven, Ivy, and I have taken turns sitting in the car’s front seat, and I’m glad my turn is happening now so I can get a good view of the city.

A wave of excitement hits me, and I crack the window open to feel the cool air. I’d only come on this holiday for Ivy, but being in a strange city is exciting.

I sneak a look at Tom’s long legs and his hand on the gear stick. I don’t usually notice hands, but his are lovely—long fingers and sexy veins. A large sports watch and a plaited leather bracelet adorn his wrist.

I examine his face while he’s focused on the road. It’s strong with high cheekbones and a lively expression. A good face. I catch another whiff of the cologne I’d smelt earlier. It’s woodsy with a hint of citrus. “You smell lovely .”

“Pardon?”

I realise with horror that I said the last bit out loud. “Erm, yes. Cities have such individual scents, don’t they?” I say quickly.

“Well, hopefully, it smells even nicer where we’re staying.”

“Is that off the Royal Mile?”

“Yeah, in the Old Town. I’m not sure exactly where, because Sal booked this place, but I know the area. I worked here a lot last year.”

I’m curious about his work and want to ask loads of questions, which isn’t my usual tactic with men. I prefer them to take a revolving door role in my life. Lovely to see them coming towards me, take a brief pause, and then whirl onwards and out again. But I’m on holiday, so maybe a different approach is fine.

“Did you say you’re a quantity surveyor?” I ask. “They work in the construction industry, don’t they? Something to do with managing the costs?”

He nods, coming to a stop at some traffic lights. People surge past us. It’s lunchtime, and the streets are busy. “Yeah, I’m a contractor’s quantity surveyor, which basically means I get my hands dirty. I’m usually in a portacabin wearing PPE and a hard hat while overseeing a project. And I try to avoid using the portaloo.”

I wince. “I was at a festival once where someone overturned one. It was on a hill, and it was a bit like a game of real and rather disgusting dominos.” He snorts, and I grin at him. “So, what were you doing in Edinburgh?” I ask.

“The company I worked for was here.” The lights turn green, and he sets off smoothly.

It’s a direct contrast to the way I drive, which is jerky and erratic. I once asked Ivy if it was normal not to remember any steps of a journey while driving, and she refused to let me drive her anywhere again.

The satnav announces his next turn, and he wrinkles his nose. “I’m sure that’s not right,” he mutters.

Steven leans forward. “So, you know better than the satnav, Tom? Interesting .”

I can practically hear Tom’s teeth grinding, and I’m not surprised. Steven hasn’t lost an opportunity to have a dig at him throughout the journey. Jack told him off a few times for it, but he and Ivy are now asleep, leaning their heads together and swaying with the movement of the car.

“Did you know paying with your phone at a drive-through is illegal?” I say quickly to distract them from a potential argument.

“Of course it isn’t,” Steven snaps. “I do it all the time.”

“Oh, then it must be okay,” Tom mutters.

I repress a smile. “You can’t legally use your phone while driving. At a drive-through, you are still in control of your car, and the engine is on, so it’s illegal.”

“Hmm,” Steven says in a quelling voice and sits back.

Tom looks at me gratefully, and mouths thank you , and I feel a rush of warmth. I don’t usually get involved in social spats unless I’m sticking up for Ivy, but protecting Tom from more of Steven’s comments felt right.

Tom shakes his head as he comes to a sign that says no entry. “I knew it was wrong,” he groans. “Last week, the fucking thing sent me down a lane so narrow it would’ve been difficult to travel on foot. I had to do a thirty-point turn, and I’m pretty sure the cows were applauding by the time I left.”

He turns the car around and sets off again, and after a few minutes he smiles, happier with the route. Finally, we pull into a car park, and he switches off the engine. I look around with interest but there isn’t much to see—just the back of some very tall buildings.

Tom stretches and gives a grunt of satisfaction. His T-shirt rides up, and heat runs through me at the sight of his flat belly and tight abs.

He reaches around the seat and squeezes Jack’s leg. “Fuck,” Jack mumbles, lurching upright and startling Ivy who was resting against him. “I am so awake. What’s happening?”

“What do you mean?” Tom asks innocently. “I just stopped the car.” He pauses. “After a drive long enough to be featured in an epic poem, and you slept through most of it.”

Steven huffs. “He’s taking the piss,” he informs Jack, acting as though he’d missed his boyfriend’s twinkling eyes.

“Yes, thank you, Steven,” Tom intones. “For where would the world be without your observational skills? Next, you’ll be teaching a traffic warden where to appropriately place the ticket on an old lady’s car.”

I raise my eyebrows because his comment seems rather specific.

Steven glares at Jack. “Well, thank you very much, Jack. I presumed that incident was private.”

Jack sighs as Steven exits the vehicle in a cloud of righteous indignation.

“ Tom ,” Jack says accusingly.

“Sorry,” he says, putting his hands up. “I forgot I wasn’t supposed to speak of that incident. But don’t worry. For the rest of the holiday, I’m activating my Judi Dench level of acting skills to persuade Steven that I like him.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “There, it’s done.”

Jack shakes his head and climbs out of the car, followed by Ivy.

Tom glances at me and huffs. “Even Judi Dench would have trouble with that acting job.”

“You don’t seem to like him much?”

“He’s not good for Jack.”

“And that’s it?”

“There’s more to it than that, but really, what more do I need?”

I nod because he has a point.

“Let’s get our stuff together,” he says, checking his phone. “Freddy says they’re a few minutes away.”

When we exit the car, the wind hits me, and I shiver, pulling my jacket around me. “God, it’s cold.”

Ivy hums an agreement, leaning against me, still sleepy. I hug her and watch as Tom and Jack pull out the cases from the boot, trying and failing not to notice the muscles bulge in Tom’s arms. It’s hard, though. He doesn’t seem to feel the cold and is dressed just in jeans and a T-shirt, his skin glowing golden. I spare a moment’s thought for his ruined jumper, but the floor show is just too nice to feel any guilt.

“Are the apartments nearby?” Ivy asks.

Tom grins at her. “They’re not far. Apparently, the building doesn’t have a car park, so this was the closest place for us to park.” He looks up at the grey sky. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it snows.”

Ivy perks up. “ Really ?”

He pushes her case towards her. “Yeah, they’ve forecast a white Christmas.”

“I used to know a bloke in the meteorology department of Oxford University,” I say. “He couldn’t predict what side of the bed he’d wake up on the next morning, let alone important meteorological events.”

“Was that Simon?” Ivy asks. “I liked him. What’s he doing now?”

“He works at a bookie’s.”

She blinks, and Tom chuckles. “It’s funny how people end up using their degrees. I think Jack and I might be the only ones in our friendship group who ended up working in the field we studied.” He hands me my case, expertly managing the wonky wheel. “What about you? Do you use your degree?”

“Which one? He’s got a few,” Ivy says wryly.

His eyes flare with interest. “Really?”

I scratch my neck awkwardly. I hate bringing attention to my academic qualifications. It always isolates me, but he’s waiting, so I answer. “Yeah, I’ve got a bachelor’s in mathematics and a bachelor’s in physics, and I’m currently doing a DPhil in mathematics.”

“You forgot the Art History degree,” Ivy observes.

I shrug. “Yes, but that was just for fun.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” He pulls on a parka he retrieves from the boot. I note jealously that it’s a Canada Goose in military green.

I check his expression suspiciously. “Really? I’ve been told it’s rather off-putting to men.”

Ivy snorts. “No, you are rather off-putting because of your complete self-reliance.” She pauses. “Plus, your constant snark and the fact that you only ever hear one third of a conversation because you’re thinking thinky thoughts.”

“Yes, thank you, Ivy.” I grimace. “ Thinky thoughts?”

“Maybe you’ve been talking to the wrong men,” Tom suggests. “I think it’s wonderful.”

I gape at him. “You do?”

“Yeah, I like people who throw themselves into whatever they do. It’s very attractive.”

“It is?”

Ivy reaches out and closes my mouth for me. “That isn’t attractive, though. You look like you’re catching flies.”

I’m just about to continue this very interesting conversation when Freddy pulls up. He’s blaring Wham’s “Last Christmas” at top volume.

“Fellow party members,” he shouts after rolling down the window.

I grin. I like him already. He has an easygoing, effervescent air about him.

“What the hell, Fred?” Tom makes a covering-his-ears gesture.

“It’s Christmas, for god’s sake,” Freddy says, turning off the engine. “I’m allowed Christmas music.”

Georgina staggers out of the car. “Not all the way to Scotland,” she says faintly. “I’ll be dreaming about stepping into Christmas.”

Her boyfriend Theo joins her with a grin. “Make sure to wear flat shoes.”

Georgina catches sight of me and approaches with a wide smile. “Now, you must be Bee. Ivy’s spoken so much about you.”

“I’m sure some of it was libellous.”

She laughs. “I would certainly hope so. It’s lovely to meet you, anyway.”

“Yeah. Good to meet you, Bee,” Theo calls.

Their smiles are kind, and I relax. They seem like good people too.

Sal is hugging Tom, affectionately punching him in the stomach, which he accepts with a grin. She looks around. “Okay, are we ready?”

Everyone gives enthusiastic responses, and we set off with her in the lead.

“So, we’re staying in an apartment?” I venture to Ivy.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to start taping our conversations and playing them back to you on loudspeaker three times a day.” I snort and she gives me a crooked grin. “They’re luxury serviced apartments. Sal showed me pictures of the place. I think it used to be a bank, but I don’t know much more.” She looks at me as I shiver. “You’re going to be freezing in that jacket, Bee.”

I look down at my blue velvet jacket. It’s cut like a military coat with brass buttons, and I adore it. It makes my eyes look very blue, but it’s likely I’m going to have a body the same colour.

“And your fingers, lovely. It’s fucking freezing.”

“Fashion takes no prisoners,” I say briskly. “Come on. I’ll warm up as we walk.”

Unfortunately, the wind is bitter, howling down the road and poking icy fingers at any exposed skin. I distract myself by looking at the nearby buildings, and when Tom comes to walk next to me, I get a probably unwise thrill.

“This is the Royal Mile,” he says, checking his phone. “It connects Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Palace.”

I look up at the towering buildings of grey-gold stone with Georgian-barred windows. “It’s lovely. The buildings are so tall here.”

“They’re mostly the old tenement buildings.” He puts a hand on my wrist, steering me around a caricature artist who’s set up on the pavement and surrounded by a crowd.

“Thank you,” I say, flustered, and he salutes me.

Freddy calls his name, and Tom hangs back to speak to him. I walk onward, still feeling the heat of his fingers on my wrist.

Ahead of me, Sal slows down, gesturing for us to follow her between two buildings. I look around with interest as we enter a small courtyard. It’s quiet, with only the muffled rattle of the trams filling the air. Old buildings surround us and Sal moves towards the entrance of one. On either side of the doors are bay trees in big pots filled with winter roses. Fairy lights are strung in shimmering strands over the entrance and dance in the wind.

We go inside and find ourselves in a funky lobby, with bright colours on the walls, abstract art, and comfy-looking sofas dotted around. It’s an oasis of warmth, and I stand gratefully next to a radiator while Sal checks us in.

She comes back to us holding a raft of cards. “Okay, we have two serviced apartments on different floors. They’re each three-bedroomed. I’d suggest me, Ivy, Georgina, and Theo share one. That way all the girls can be together.”

“And me,” Theo says wryly. “Oh, joy .”

Georgina shoves him. “You’ll love it.”

“I’m with you. Of course, I will.” He smiles affectionately at her.

Ivy edges closer to me and whispers, “It’s amazing that they had a drop-down fight a few minutes ago about which cheese is nicest on toast.”

I don’t reply. My heart is beating fast at the knowledge that I’m going to be living in close quarters with Tom for the duration of the holiday.

Sal carries on speaking. “So, that leaves Jack and Steven, Freddy and Tom, and you in the other apartment, Bee. Is that okay, everyone?

Everyone choruses agreement. “Is that okay with you, Ives?” I ask quietly. “You wanted me here because you were nervous about going it alone with the girls.”

“I wanted you here because we’re best friends,” she corrects me.

“Yeah, but my point still stands.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I think I was worrying unnecessarily. I get on really well with Sal, and Georgina is lovely. Will you be okay?” she whispers. “You said the worst thing that could happen would be to share an apartment with Tom.” She pauses. “Although, a zombie apocalypse is actually the worst thing I could think of.”

“I think I’d be pretty useful to have around in that scenario.”

“Only if the zombies had maths problems.”

Tom glances at me as we all crowd around Sal to get our key cards. “Are the apartment arrangements okay with you?” he asks. “My sister is extremely bossy and never sees anyone else’s point of view.”

“Oi, I heard that,” Sal calls with no rancour at all.

“You were meant to,” he shoots back. He turns back to me and Ivy. “If you two want to be together, I can always kip on the sofa in our apartment, and Freddy can sleep in Ivy’s room at the other one. Then Ivy can have our room.”

Ivy says, “That’s so kind of you, Tom.”

I agree. It’s become so obvious that my first impression of him was all wrong. And now I feel slightly off balance, because I’m miffed at myself for being judgemental and a little worried about how I can make it up to him. There’s a brief silence and I realise they’re both waiting for me to say something.

“I think there’s no need for that, if Ivy is okay,” I murmur, taking the card that Sal hands me. “I’m easy.”

Ivy goes to grab her card. “I’m sure Ted Jared Alfred from last night would agree.”

I snort. “He certainly would.” We grin at each other.

Sal says, “Are we ready? Let’s get unpacked.”

The lift takes us to the third floor. Steven lets us into the apartment, and we find ourselves in a small foyer with doors opening off it. A big vase of flowers gives off a sweet scent that mixes pleasantly with the smell of furniture polish.

Leaving my case in the foyer, I push the nearest door open and walk into an open-plan lounge that shares space with a modern kitchen.

“Wow.” I look around and whistle. The room is modern and luxurious, with wooden floors and cream-coloured walls. There are two huge and cushiony sofas—one in an off-white linen and the other in a heavy, chocolate-brown tweed—along with three armchairs that look just the right size to curl up on.

Two sets of double glass doors open onto Juliet balconies. I drift over and look down on cobbled streets filled with little cafés and bars. The gabled buildings, with their light stone colour and turrets, give the place a fairytale atmosphere.

“There are three bedrooms, one with the en suite. Obviously, Jack and I will have that,” Steven announces. “And it will get us away from Freddy’s constant profanity. It’s the symbol of a weak mind, don’t you agree, Jack?” He pauses. “Are you listening to me?” he says a little shrilly.

Jack looks up from his phone. “Sorry, I was texting Arlo pictures of the flat.”

“Oh joy, it feels like he’s here with us.”

“Is Arlo Tom’s brother?” I ask.

Jack’s smile is wide and warm and very sweet. “Yes, he couldn’t come on the trip because he’s a teacher and term doesn’t finish until Friday, but usually he’d be with us.”

“Well, rather the small children than us,” Steven mutters.

“I beg your pardon?” Jack says.

My eyes widen at Jack’s uncharacteristically steely tone.

“Oh, nothing,” Steven says quickly. “It’s just such a nice time at school with the run-up to Christmas, isn’t it? He’ll be having fun with his class.” Jack relaxes a little, and Steven presses his advantage. “And I do think we should have the en suite bedroom because we’re a couple.”

“So were Bonnie and Clyde,” Tom says, coming through the door with Freddy hot on his heels.

Freddy wanders over to the window and whistles. “Fuck me, that’s a lovely bollocking view.” He gives Steven a side-eye.

Steven’s lips tighten, and I turn away to hide my smile. Freddy catches my eye and winks.

Steven turns to Tom and repeats, “We want the room with the en suite.”

“Is that the royal we?” Tom asks. “I don’t hear Jack demanding anything.”

“I’ll be fine wherever I sleep,” Jack says, sighing. “The whole apartment is lovely.”

Tom says sweetly, “If you having the en suite means I won’t bump into Steven in the other bathroom, then, yes, you should have it.”

Freddy flings himself on the sofa. “I don’t care where I sleep.”

Tom kicks his foot gently. “You’ll just pass out wherever you fall.”

“True,” Freddy says amiably. He stands up, opens one of the glass doors, and walks out onto the small balcony. He cranes his head and then calls, “Oi.”

“Who on earth is he talking to?” Steven hisses.

“Oh, some girls in the next apartment,” Tom says. “They were coming in as we brought our luggage up. They seem nice.”

Freddy is now leaning over the railing, engaged in very lively conversation.

“Just as long as he doesn’t have them in here,” Steven says with a huff. “We don’t know them.”

“Isn’t that how you make friends?” Tom enquires distractedly as he taps on his phone.

Steven ignores him and turns to me. “I know you won’t want total strangers in here with us.”

I resist the urge to back into a cupboard and close the door. “Well, at this stage, you’re all strangers to me,” I say lightly.

Tom snorts and nudges me in a companionable way. “Well said. Okay, let’s sort out the rooms and unpack. Sal says to meet in an hour, and we can explore the area.” He waves a hand towards the bedrooms. “Steven and Jack can have the room with the en suite. Let’s look at the other rooms, Bee.”

He turns and heads back into the foyer, and I follow him, leaving Steven to direct Jack on where to put the suitcases.

“I’ve got a suggestion where he can put them,” Tom says in a low voice. “But Jack wouldn’t let me.”

I snort, then nearly overbalance as Freddy comes behind us and throws his arms over our shoulders. “The three musketeers,” he announces.

“Didn’t they split up in the end?” I say.

“Not while on a pub trip in Scotland,” Freddy replies, his eyes twinkling.

Tom shakes his head. “I wouldn’t let Steven hear you call it a pub trip. Not after Dublin.”

“Pah! That could have happened to anyone.”

“Anyone who drank what looked like a barrel of Guinness and then decided what the Irish people really needed was to see you naked.”

I laugh, and Tom’s smile is wide and happy, and his eyes sparkle.

He throws open the door to one room, looks in, and then marches to the other. “This one has a better view,” he calls. “Let’s give this one to Bee.”

“Oh no,” I protest, following them into the room and then pausing. “Oh wow, it is nice.”

Tom grins. “Exactly.”

There’s a big king-size bed made up with bedlinen striped in soft blue and cream and a comfy-looking navy velvet armchair in the corner of the room, but the wall of glass draws attention with its panoramic view of Edinburgh. Trees rattle their bare branches in the cold wind, and I can see century-old buildings, some with views into lovely flats.

I turn to Tom, who’s leaning against a bedside table, and then to Freddy, who is watching us with bright eyes. “But don’t you two want this?”

Tom waves a careless hand. “Nah. I’ve been to Edinburgh many times. This is your first visit, and you should have a good view. Freddy?”

Freddy’s watching Tom closely for some reason but then blinks and smiles. “Bee, the view is wasted on me. I’ll likely only see the bed and the inside of my eyelids in this bedroom.”

Tom nods. “Or the underside of the dressing table when you pass out.”

“Mate.” They high-five.

I smile. “Well, if you’re sure, I’d love it. The room is gorgeous.”

Tom looks far too pleased for someone who’s just given up a panoramic view of the city for one that probably looks out on the courtyard’s bins. “Okay, sorted. We’ll unpack and meet in the lounge in an hour, okay?”

I nod and watch them go. When the door closes behind them, the room seems oddly quiet. I have to laugh at myself. Am I craving the company of people I barely know?

I spend a few happy minutes looking at the view. My whole life has been about my studies. So, while I could give you a more detailed map of Oxford and around my university in London than a cartographer could manage, I don’t know much of the outside world, and I have a powerful yearning to see art and places I’ve only ever read about. I grin, excited for the week ahead.

After retrieving my suitcase from the foyer and heaving it onto the bed, I open it and pull out the contents. I stare at the items for a moment, scratching my head. I dimly remember throwing stuff in here in a complete panic, but I’m coming to the conclusion that I must have still been drunk. That, or I thought I was coming to a tropical island.

There are five pairs of shorts, three T-shirts, and a pair of Union Jack flip-flops that my dad had given me for some odd reason.

“Shit.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and tap Ivy’s smiling contact picture.

“Hey,” she answers, her voice high and excited. In the background, I can hear someone laughing. “Aren’t these apartments amazing ?”

“They are lovely,” I say dutifully. “Less lovely are the contents of my suitcase.”

“Why?”

“Do you remember saying you’d pack for me this morning, but Past Bee said he wouldn’t dream of troubling you?”

“Yes, although I don’t remember there being quite so many flowery words.”

“Well, I wish Past Bee had been a little less chivalrous.”

She snorts. “What have you got?”

“Enough for a holiday in Bora Bora. Chilly Edinburgh, not so much.”

She starts to laugh. “You’re going to have to go shopping.”

“Oh no,” I groan. “You know I hate doing that.”

“Pretend you’re shopping for a visit to a museum.”

“You’re absolutely no help.”

She laughs harder. “Promise me you’ll wear your swimming costume for our first group dinner.”

“Goodbye. I’m off to pick another friend.”

She lowers her voice. “Try Tom. He’s looking at you very friendly.”

“Why would I need to know that fact? Have you been drinking?”

She snorts. “You know I’m telling the truth.”

“Goodbye, ex-friend,” I say repressively, clicking to end the call and shut off her laughter.

I grab my washbag and take it into the bathroom. “At least this should be okay,” I mutter. I unzip it and then stare in dismay. I’ve packed self-tan cream for someone with a darker skin tone. I don’t know why I even have it, because I’m as pale as Casper the Ghost. Joining this tube is some Volteral and a prostate wand. The latter always comes in useful, and obviously, I’ll need the self-tan because I’ll be displaying more of myself on the streets of Edinburgh than is usually advisable in December.

“Fuck me. I’d better make a list.”

I wander into the lounge much earlier than the hour Tom specified. It only took two minutes to unpack summer gear and a sex toy. I smile involuntarily as I see Tom lying on the sofa watching TV.

“What are you watching?” I ask, slumping onto the tweedy sofa that is surprisingly comfy.

“Dickinson’s Real Deal.”

“Is that because you’re secretly seventy-five?”

He snorts. “It’s rather fascinating how orange he is. Similar to the colour of our garden shed when my dad creosoted it in the summer.”

I think of my self-tan cream and wonder if I could do a Dickinson. “I always like his clothes,” I admit. “His tie and pocket square rarely coordinate, which I appreciate more than you can know, and he looks like he picked up those suits when he made his time machine go back to the seventies.”

He laughs and we both look up as Steven and Jack appear. Jack looks weary, which is hardly surprising, as Steven is holding court.

“Where’s Freddy?” I ask, looking beyond them.

Tom stands up, grabbing his parka. The khaki colour suits him. “He’s next door.”

“At the girls’ flat?” I ask. He nods, and I laugh. “He’s a quick worker.”

“You have no idea,” Jack says wryly. “At freshers' week, he spent ages telling everyone in our halls where the best bars were when he’d only got there an hour before them.”

“He always does this,” Steven says peevishly, settling next to me on the sofa. “Never stays with the group. It’s very rude.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “I suppose I’ll enlighten Bee about how our friends spend a holiday together. I don’t want him to think we do more coordinated activities than those poor kids in The Sound of Music .” He turns to me. “Everyone is entirely free to do what they want here. Sal and Ivy already said they want to go shopping, Freddy is busy making friends, and Georgie and Theo will probably be staging their next argument outside Edinburgh Castle.” I chuckle, and he shrugs. “It’s up to you how to spend your time. We usually meet at night, and all have dinner together.”

“I can work with that,” I say. “Ivy will be happy she doesn’t have to visit the museums and galleries with me.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Steven exclaims. “I’m so pleased you like that sort of thing. This lot wouldn’t know culture if it bit them.”

Tom shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”

“Yes, I still remember the Natural History Museum,” Steven says acerbically. He turns to me and my body tenses. “We can go together.”

My heart sinks as I try to think of a way to get out of spending time with Steven.

“I’ll come too,” Tom says quickly.

“Oh really?” I say happily. “That would be lovely .”

Jack chokes on the water he’s sipping. “You’ll do what , Tom?”

“I’ve seen a lot of Edinburgh, but I’ve never done the museums before.” His cheeks have become interestingly rosy.

“Hmm,” Jack says, staring at Tom. They seem to be carrying on a silent conversation, similar to how Ivy and I speak. “I suppose it would be lovely to have you along, Tom.”

“Surprising, too,” Steven adds. “You hate museums. The last gallery we went to you spent the entire visit critiquing the artwork.”

“To the artist,” Jack adds and starts to laugh.

“My mother taught us to be honest in all circumstances,” Tom says very piously.

We all look up as the door opens and Freddy comes in.

“Nice girls,” he announces. He spots Steven, and quickly adds, “Fuck me, I’m absolutely motherfucking starving.” Steven winces, and Freddy winks at Tom. “Are we ready? The others are waiting downstairs.”

The wind hits me as soon as we step outside the courtyard and onto the main street. The sky has darkened to a dark grey, thick clouds scudding along it and blown by the wind. Gulls soar in the air, calling raucously, and I can hear the rattle of the trams.

I shiver and pull my jacket closer around me, but the wind still manages to find gaps and poke my skin with its icy touch. The others are all bundled up in expensive-looking coats and jackets, so I straighten, feeling a little silly and trying to look as if I intentionally brought this jacket with me rather than packing it in a drunken haze.

Ivy races over when she sees me. Her face is vivid with enthusiasm, and I look at her affectionately. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, crooking my arm so she can slide hers through. She leans into me.

“It’s lovely here. This was such a good idea.”

We follow the others, dipping and weaving through the crowds. We pass bars and restaurants already full of people. Street performers and buskers spill noise near a cathedral that stands still and imposing like a parent observing a children’s party.

“St Giles Cathedral,” Tom calls over to me.

Ivy nudges me, and I ignore her, focusing intently on the buildings. I’m beginning to notice charming little details—a pair of carved dragons guarding the entrance to a side street, a buttress under a bay window that spirals like a fruit twister lolly.

“So, is it nice sharing with the girls?” I ask Ivy.

“So lovely. I don’t know why I was nervous about it.”

“Because they’re work friends.”

She elbows me companionably. “Thank you for coming anyway.”

“Ah, well, maybe I think it was a good idea, too,” I say, keeping my eyes firmly off Tom’s broad shoulders and luscious arse. She smirks, and I lightly demand, “Shut up.”

The others come to a stop. Ivy shudders as we observe what’s in our path. “ Stairs .”

“Ugh,” I agree. “Not just stairs. Stairs on steroids.” The steps ahead of us are stone and steep and seem to wind endlessly up to the sky. “I knew I should have gone to the gym on legs day.”

“Or just gone at all.”

“Must you yuck my yum?”

She skips up the steps as nimbly as a mountain goat—or someone who goes to the gym to use it properly and not to ogle men in tiny shorts. The others follow her.

Sighing in resignation, I start to climb.

I’m barely twenty steps up when I falter. “Jesus Christ ,” I gasp to no one. “Is the air thin around here?”

The good news is I’m no longer bothered about my coat keeping me warm. I’m now sweating as if I’ve done the London Marathon. The bad news is I’m also panting like a dog. I move to the side to let the queue that’s formed behind me get past and fumble for my inhaler.

Footsteps sound, and I look up to see Tom coming back down the stairs. “Alright?” he asks, his grey eyes concerned.

I wave my inhaler at him, my face getting hotter. “Just taking a puff.”

He stands next to me, leaning his back against the wall. Two men pass, tutting and glaring at me for keeping them waiting. To my surprise, Tom straightens up with a frown on his handsome face. “Can I help you?” he snaps.

They scuttle past, disappearing into the distance, which could possibly be heaven, considering the incline of these stairs.

“Sorry,” I wheeze.

“You can’t help having asthma.”

I take another breath of the inhaler, holding it in as I was taught years ago. Eventually, I manage to croak, “Yes, but I could possibly help being chronically unfit and preferring eating crisps to going to the gym.”

He laughs, and I eye him. “You have the look of someone who likes the gym,” I observe.

“Was that meant to be said in the same tone of voice you’d use to discuss Jeffery Dahmer hogging the meat end of the buffet?”

I start to laugh. “It is a character deficit, in my personal opinion, but probably not as much as serial cannibalism at the all-you-can-eat.”

He chuckles, and to my surprise, he stays beside me, leaning against the wall companionably as I take more breaths.

Freddy is the next to appear. “What’s up?” he calls.

I groan. The last thing I want on our first day is to be identified as the group's weak link.

“I needed a break,” Tom calls.

I flash a curious glance at him. His cheekbones redden.

Freddy’s brow furrows, and it’s completely obvious he knows Tom’s lying. Tom’s body screams fitness. But Freddy just nods gravely. “You take your time, then.”

“Thanks, mate,” Tom says serenely.

Freddy touches his fingers to his forehead in an amiable salute and vanishes up the stairs again.

We stand for a few seconds, and I try to think of something entertaining to say. But all I can concentrate on is Tom’s warm, fresh smell and how the wind ruffles his brown hair and shows red strands glinting like fire in the odd winter light. I shiver.

He scans my body. “That jacket is way too thin. Please tell me you brought another coat with you?”

“Shall I do that right after confessing my winter holiday outfit choices consist of five pairs of board shorts and a T-shirt that says, ‘Bad Boys Always Have a Good Summer’?”

His laughter is loud and hearty and makes my lips twitch. Finally, he sobers. “ Really ?”

I nod. “I’m also good if anyone needs to self-tan to the shade of a pecan nut.”

That sets him off again. He smiles at me. “We need to go shopping.”

“Oh, joy to the world.”

He glances upward. “Prepared to do more steps?”

“Does King Charles like a good roller disco?”

He holds out his arm. “Ready, darling?”

Even though it’s a joke, my heart skips a beat. I stow my inhaler and take his arm. “Thank you, Sir Galahad.”

He chuckles, but I can’t help but feel that he is indeed a knight, intent on riding to my rescue.

Keeping to a steady pace, we climb the steps. Towards the top, we’re more akin to a husky pulling a sleigh, but we reach the final step without me having a heart attack, so that’s a win.

I look around. We’re on another wind-blown cobbled street.

Tom smiles at me. “Okay?”

“Thank you,” I say.

He gives me another courtly gesture. Then, when Freddy shouts his name, he lopes off towards his friend. I watch him go regretfully and then clear my expression as Ivy comes up next to me.

“How lovely of Tom to help you,” she says sweetly. “In the future please never, ever entertain me with your instant judgements on people.”

“Stow it, Mother Teresa.”

We wander down a pretty street, with frequent stops for the group to vanish into shops. I stay outside, looking around and resting my feet. I’d thought my Converse were worn in, but wearing them for a short walk to the corner shop, the pub, or the university doesn’t qualify them for a route march, and blisters are already forming.

I lift my feet a little, wincing as I discover one of those blisters might have burst already. Fuck .

Tom comes towards me, and my heart accelerates. I pat my pockets for my inhaler just in case, but my breathlessness seems to be Tom-generated rather than asthma.

“What do you think?” he asks, gesturing at our surroundings. His eyes are very intent for such a plain question.

“It’s lovely,” I say, looking at the tartan shop we’re currently standing outside. Sal, Ivy, Steven, Georgina, and Theo have been in there for a while and show no signs of emerging anytime soon.

“There’s more to Edinburgh than shops. It has layers,” he says. He glances at Freddy and Jack, who are on their phones as they wait for the others. Tom tugs my sleeve. “Come and look at this.” I follow him a few yards down the road until he comes to a narrow opening between two grand old houses. Two carved lions guard the entrance, their paint making them bright and charming. “Through here.”

I follow him, intrigued.

“This is a wynd,” he says, his voice echoing in the narrow space. “Little alleys that run between the buildings.”

We come through, and I smile in surprise to find a courtyard surrounded by the tall buildings. There’s a café with tables and chairs set out with jaunty-coloured umbrellas. The tables are empty now, and the umbrellas are furled tightly, but it’s a charming picture, and I fumble for the camera around my neck to take a picture.

“Do you like it?” he asks almost anxiously.

I grin at him, forgetting to be self-conscious. “It’s beautiful. I like taking photos,” I say. I wonder briefly if there’s something in the Scottish air that turns shy people sociable. “I don’t go to many places, so when I do, I take lots of nice photos for my Instagram page.”

“You’ll have to show me.”

I nod, surprised that I like the idea of sharing with him.

He grins widely. “There are loads of surprises in this city,” he says, tucking his hand under my arm absently. “When I worked here, I loved to explore. You find these courtyards, and it’s almost like seeing a hidden world.”

“Oh my god, yes,” I say, startled to find my mind running like his. “I remember seeing a patch of soil when I was little, and my dad let me use his microscope to look at it. I found an entire insect colony there with all the little insects leading their busy lives undetected.”

“We did the same, although my brother Arlo used a plastic magnifying glass and set fire to the grass. He was like the human torch in the insect world until my dad chucked his magnifying glass in the bin.”

I laugh and he shoots a glance back at the alleyway. His expression almost looks disappointed. “We’d better go back to the others.”

I feel a wave of similar disappointment but make myself nod. “Yeah, we don’t want to lose them.”

“Well, not all of them,” he says darkly.

“What did Steven do now?” I blurt.

Tom licks his lips, looking towards the street, and my chest tightens. I’d been thinking he was my friend, so I spoke to him the same way I would Ivy.

“God, that was so rude of me,” I say quickly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Jack’s important to all of us, so we did try to get on with Steven for a long time,” he says slowly. “But Steven’s dismissive and rude, and so the situation has become a bit more difficult.”

“And Jack was okay with him being rude?” I ask, surprised. Jack obviously values his friendships with the group.

“Steven was never rude in front of him. Not at first. He’s more open about being catty lately. Jack’s been distracted, so he hasn’t noticed. But…” He hesitates. “To be honest, the cattiness isn’t the worst of it.”

I scan his features, noting the creases by the mouth that’s so quick to smile. I can’t tell if he wants to tell me more—perhaps get something off his chest—or if he’s wandered too deep into this conversation and he’s looking for a way out.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to discuss it,” I say. “Ivy and I have several topics we’ve assigned mutual-destruction agreements never to talk about with others.”

“This isn’t exactly a secret, because we all know.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and lowers his voice. “Steven was unfaithful.”

“To Jack ?” I say in astonishment.

“A complete surprise, right? Yes. To Jack. He’s the best bloke around. He’s kind and lovely and didn’t deserve to have Steven shag a friend of theirs. A friend who was part of a couple they hung around with.”

“Oh dear. So, what happened?”

“Jack found out about it. The other couple split up. Then Steven managed to talk his way back into Jack's good graces, and here we are.” He spreads his hands. “I hate that for Jack. I hate all unfaithfulness. My parents have been together for thirty years, and neither has ever looked at anyone else.”

“That’s amazing.”

“I know. My dad used to tell us that relationships can and do end, but if you’re contemplating being unfaithful and the other person doesn’t know, then your relationship is already at an end. He told us it’s cruel and disrespectful not be honest with your partner.”

“I wish he’d known my mum.” I bite my lip, flabbergasted at what I’ve just said.

He scans my face, his expression changing from surprise to what looks like concern. He seems adept at picking up cues, so he just nods and doesn’t ask questions.

After a moment, he says, “I could understand if Steven had made a mistake and apologized. If Jack is prepared to forgive, then it’s certainly none of my business.”

“But?”

He grimaces. “He’s managed to convince Jack that the indiscretion was mostly Jack’s fault which, if you know Jack, is an easy button to press. Steven’s wandering around like he’s the Angel Gabriel, and Jack thinks it’s all his fault. No, I don’t like that.”

“Ugh,” I say.

“That about sums it up.” He scratches his head. “Sorry to go on, but he’s my friend. I want everything for him. He’s wonderful.”

He’s not the only one , I think.

He carries on speaking earnestly. “I’d love to tell Steven what I think of him, but Jack wouldn’t like it, and he’d probably feel obliged to stick up for Steven. I don’t want to force him towards the prat and away from us. He’s going to have to see for himself.”

“It’s probably the only way.”

“Here you are.” Freddy’s voice comes from behind us. I turn to find him watching us, his eyes bright and curious. “Is this hide and seek?”

“No, why?” Tom asks.

“Because if we’re doing that, bagsy us let Steven hide, and no one looks for him.”

Tom grimaces. “I’m down for that, but why at this precise moment?”

“He just told Georgina that plaid doesn’t suit a woman with her hips.”

I blink. “Is he casual with his life?”

“No, just a cunt,” Freddy says.

I snort and then follow them out of the wynd and back into the bustle of the street. My feet hurt like fuck, but Tom’s company is more than worth the pain.