Kyle supposed he should be flattered that Dev trusted him with the little sister he was so clearly protective of. But after the adrenaline of the day and an inadequate nap in the back of the cab, all he wanted to do was crash.
Still, food would help. And at least there were plenty of restaurants within walking distance from Dev’s flat. He’d been dreading getting back in a taxi, certain he wouldn’t be able to stay awake this time. He should go afterwards, though. He wasn’t sure he could make it to the last flight back tonight, particularly while travelling alone and running the risk of sleeping past his stop on the train, but he could stay in an airport hotel and get off first thing in the morning. He hadn’t really thought it through, before, but of course Dev would want to be with his sister.
He’d been so quiet during the taxi ride back from Tasha’s house. Probably desperately trying to think of a polite way of getting rid of the unwanted outsider. After all, what help had Kyle actually been? Tom had done all the work.
Dev would have to come back to Porthkennack at some point to collect his motorbike and his luggage, and maybe Kyle would see him then. And perhaps they’d meet again if Tasha’s case went to trial, but Tom had seemed fairly confident it wouldn’t come to that.
It all felt very . . . over. And he hadn’t been prepared for it. Not yet.
Dev was distancing himself already. He hadn’t seemed comfortable with Kyle since they’d got to London. Since they’d met up with Tom and Tasha. Had he taken a dislike to Tom? Was it a pride thing? Did he resent having needed Kyle’s help?
At least it couldn’t be that he didn’t want Kyle to be around his sister. Else why send them off on their own?
God, he was going round in circles.
Tasha seemed to know the area, and after he confessed his indifference as to what they ate, led him to a small, independent pizza place. It was early enough that the ready availability of a table didn’t ring alarm bells as to the quality of the food, and Kyle slid into a seat by the window with relief.
The waiter handed them menus. Tasha gave hers only a cursory glance before tossing it back on the table and looking him in the eye. “You’re a bit trusting, ain’tcha?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re—”
“Ain’t you wondering if it’s all bollocks, what I told Dev about Matt stitching me up? I mean, it’s just me saying that, innit? For all you know, it coulda been me dealing all along, and I’m just putting it all on him.”
Kyle blinked at her. “Is it? Bollocks?”
“No. But why would you believe me? You never even met me before today.”
“Dev trusts you.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s in on it too, you think of that?”
Anger surged briefly. “Throw doubt on your own character all you like, but please don’t denigrate Dev.”
“That posh for diss?”
“If you like.”
“What are you even doing with Dev? I mean, I know he’s good-looking, but ain’t you embarrassed having your mate Tom know you’re with him?”
“Why would I be?” Kyle leaned forwards. “Yes, we have different backgrounds. But it doesn’t matter to me. And going back to your original question: I trust Dev. And while his judgement may well be less than impartial when it comes to you, I prefer to give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, can we please order before I collapse over the table?”
She giggled, then clapped her hand to her mouth and took a moment to straighten her expression. “All right.” She waved unselfconsciously at the waiter, who came straight over, not having too many other customers to occupy his time.
“I’ll have the margherita pizza, ta. And a Foster’s.”
Not feeling adventurous, Kyle ordered the same but exchanged the beer for a salad and a jug of water.
“But it’s me who’s gonna collapse if anyone does,” Tasha went on once the waiter had left. “Didn’t Dev tell you about the diabetes?”
“He did.” Kyle took a deep breath. Dev had meant well, no doubt, but in the not-wholly-unlikely event that he had an attack here, he’d prefer not to have a hysterical teenager to wake up to. “He seems to have forgotten to mention the narcolepsy, however.”
“Shit! You got that? For real?”
“For real.”
“So, like, if you fall asleep at work, you’ve got the perfect excuse? That is so cool.”
Kyle almost laughed. “It’s really not.”
She gave him a look that was startling in its understanding, and far too mature for a nineteen-year-old. “Nothing ever is, is it? So is there stuff you can take for it?”
“I . . . Yes, but I’ve been reluctant to try it.” Kyle felt uncomfortable under her gaze, and hurried to explain. “It feels like giving in.”
He realised even as he said it how stupid it would sound to her.
From her expression, he wasn’t wrong. “Huh. If I’d said that about insulin I’d be dead now.”
“Narcolepsy isn’t life-threatening.”
“What, so that means it ain’t worth bothering about?” She shrugged. “It’s your life.”
Kyle stared at her, waiting for a corollary that never came.
Tasha frowned. “What?”
“Nothing. Just . . . Have you got any idea how many people have said that to me, since I got ill? It’s your life. The answer’s none. Not one. Everyone’s so bloody sure they know what I should be doing.”
“Yeah, well, that’s people for you. Fuck ’em.” She grinned, and Kyle couldn’t help smiling back at her.
The drinks arrived, swiftly followed by the food—Kyle supposed they’d hardly taxed the skills of the kitchen staff with their order.
Tasha tucked in to her pizza with surprising daintiness for someone who hadn’t bothered to cover her mouth when the beer made her belch. Kyle wondered which was the real her, or if they both were.
“It was horrible,” she said suddenly, not looking up from her plate. “In the nick, not knowing if they were gonna bring me food when I needed it. I mean, I told them I needed to eat when I needed to, and have my insulin, but what was I gonna do if they decided not to give a shit? So, you know, cheers.”
“Don’t mention it. I was glad to help you out.”
“Just . . . It’s like you’re in there, and you can’t do nothing, yeah? Like there’s nothing to do, and you just sit there and worry about what’s gonna happen to you.” Tasha busied herself cutting up her pizza, then looked up at Kyle with a grin. “Course, if Dev had been the sort of brother what got in trouble all the time, he’d of been able to warn me about that, wouldn’t he?” She cocked her head. “Surprise you? You know, him being mixed race and growing up in care and all? He’s never been in trouble with the police. Not once.”
She seemed to be daring him to say something, but what, Kyle wasn’t sure. He shrugged awkwardly. “Well, he’s one up on me, then.”
“You’re shitting me. You’ve been arrested? How come they still let you be a lawyer? What you done?”
“I was drinking with a group of friends back when I was seventeen—yes, underage—and apparently some of us were acting too gay for the taste of some of the other men in the pub. The fight had barely started before the police arrived and arrested everyone concerned. It was probably just as well. No one was seriously hurt and nobody was charged, in the end. But it did make for an anxious few hours in police custody.” Explaining it to his parents—because of course he’d panicked and called them for help—hadn’t been exactly the most fun he’d ever had, either.
“That why you went into law?”
Kyle nodded and gave her a wry smile. “I was fuelled by righteous indignation. I hadn’t thrown a single punch, and there I was being fingerprinted, searched, and locked in a cell like a criminal. It’s a while ago now, but I believe I was planning to end all miscarriages of justice.”
“How’d that go for you?”
“How do you think?” Kyle forked up some more salad, wishing it was better dressed.
“Got me out of jail, didn’t you?”
“That was all Tom.”
“Yeah, but if it goes to court, it’ll be you, won’t it?” It seemed important to her.
Kyle couldn’t bring himself to let her down. “Yes. It’ll be me.”
“Good.” She took a swig of beer. “So what’s this Porthwhatsit place like? Think I’ll like it?”
“Porthkennack? You’re coming?”
“You really weren’t listening to me and Dev, were you? Yeah, I’m coming down. Gonna stay in the B&B with Dev.”
Somehow, Kyle felt a lot less tired than he had a moment ago. “That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” Was he? Yes, he was. Who didn’t like the seaside? And there were definitely nightclubs there of some sort or another.
God, any moment now he was going to ask her something like, And what do you young people like nowadays? And then he’d have to kill himself. It was strange, though. The five years between her and Dev’s ages seemed in some ways a much larger gap than the nine between Dev and Kyle.
They were just finishing their meals when Tasha’s phone rang. She answered it with an “All right, bruv?” and then listened for a short while before hanging up and turning to Kyle. “That was Dev. He says we gotta eat up and get straight back.”
“Did he say why?”
She just shrugged. “You got a plane to catch?”
“I . . . have no idea. I mean, there is one, but I thought . . .” Kyle shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll get the bill and we can go.”