Chapter 43

Inside, the house was empty. So typical, thought Ray. Where were Florence and Max when you were bursting to show off to them? It was like waking up on Christmas Eve, finding Father Christmas in your room and knowing that in the morning nobody was going to believe you.

'Nice place.' Bryan gazed with pleasure around Florence's bohemian sitting room.

Patting the back of the sofa, Ray said encouragingly, 'Sit down, put the TV on if you want. Give me ten minutes to shower and change, and we'll be off.'

Bryan didn't sit down.

'What's your room like?'

Eek!

'Messy. Very messy. This one's much nicer.'

'Don't be so boring. I like messy rooms.' His mouth twitched at the corners. 'You can explore in them.'

There was clearly no stopping him; he was already heading up the stairs. Running after him, Ray panted, 'Better put on your Indiana Jones hat, then. And no snooping.'

Bryan raised a teasing eyebrow as Ray pushed open the door to his room.

'Not even in your boxer drawer?'

'Especially not there!'

Bryan grinned.

'Is that where you keep all your old love letters?'

'Actually, it's where I keep my boxers.'

And pretty old some of them were, too. The thought of Bryan Kutsenov having a good rummage and dragging out his precious I Love Bros pants with the pictures of Matt and Luke on the front wasn't a relaxing one. If he wanted to enjoy his shower he was going to have to cart the whole drawer into the bathroom with him.

'I won't snoop,' promised Bryan. 'How about a look at your CD collection – would that be safe?'

Actually, not very. Matt and Luke featured in there too. Really wishing he had more glamorous taste in music – a bit of Ella Fitzgerald here, a dash of Shostakovich there – Ray shrugged and said, 'Alright.'

At least he couldn't be charged with possession of the dreaded Celine Dion tape – that was safely back with Bev.

But when he re-emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later with his hair back to its normal – well, relatively normal – colour and his crocus yellow Lycra top clinging to his still damp skin, he found Bryan inspecting the contents of the blue glass bowl on top of his chest of drawers.

Oh well, could be worse; he could have been lying naked in bed . . . no, no, mustn't even think those kind of thoughts –

'I'm in love,' said Bryan.

Not with Bros, surely.

Ray braced himself, then saw what Bryan was holding.

'That's my lucky pig.'

'How do you know he's lucky?'

'I tucked him into the waist band of my pants before my maths GCSE exam.'

He sounded impressed. 'And you passed?'

'God, no, failed miserably.'

Bryan shook his head, mystified.

'So why was that lucky?'

'My maths teacher suggested I gave a career in nuclear physics a miss and went into hairdressing instead.'

Bryan laughed.

'Two hours inside your pants? Can't get much luckier than that. Definitely a pig after my own heart. Can I borrow him for next Sunday's race?'

'For luck?' Ray hesitated.

'You don't want me to have him.' Sensing reluctance, Bryan dropped the pig back into the bowl.

Ray wavered. He loved his copper pig.

'No, no, you take him.' He nodded to show he meant it. 'Just don't blame me if you don't win. It could be his way of telling you to become a Kwik-Fit fitter instead.'

'Where are we going?' said Ray as their cab bowled through the back streets of Putney.

'To the rescue. I'm the lone Ranger, you're Tonto.'

'Where's Silver, stuck down a canyon?'

'I promised Tala we'd meet him. Tricky first-date scenario,' Bryan murmured and lowered his voice. 'If he starts talking about star signs, it means the girl's a disaster and we have to get him out of there.'

Ray frowned.

'If she's a disaster, why did he invite her out in the first place?'

'Tonto, you're on form. Okay,' Bryan admitted, 'it's more of a blind-date scenario. But don't make a big thing of it – Tala's never been on a blind-date before and he's sensitive about it.'

The restaurant was tucked away at the end of a narrow mews, safe from passing trade and the likelihood of Tala bumping into anyone he knew. The look of relief on his face when he saw Bryan and Ray told them all they needed to know, but just to be on the safe side he pumped Ray's arm with enthusiasm and said, 'Ray, great to see you again! Hmm, good firm handshake. Pisces, am I right?'

'Gemini.' Gingerly Ray retrieved his mangled hand. 'Intelligent, beautiful and excellent at falling into swimming pools with my clothes on.'

'And this is Alice. She's Sagittarius.' Tala rolled his eyes fractionally as he spoke but Alice didn't notice. She was too bust braying with laughter at Ray's swimming pool remark.

'That's so funny! Well, Gemini's are funny, aren't they? Did you just make that up or did you copy it from someone on TV?'

'Um . . .'

Alice beamed at Bryan. 'I heard a really funny joke on The Generation Game once. I wrote it down and told the other girls at work.' She leaned forward, her pale-blue eyes bulging. 'And guess what? It was awful, they didn't laugh at all! I felt like writing to Jim Davidson to complain!'

Behind them, a waiter hovered eagerly. Ray couldn't decide who he felt sorrier for, Tala or the poor honking Alice.

With an edge of desperation to his voice, Tala said, 'I wonder what Jim Davidson's star sign is?'

'I just can't believe I'm sitting here talking to Bryan Kutsenov the racing driver,' Alice squealed. 'This is such a thrill . . . wait till I tell the girls in my office, they'll just die!'

'Hadn't you better tell Tala why we're here?' prompted Ray, because Bryan was clearly starting to enjoy the awfulness of the occasion.

'What? Oh, no hurry, that can wait. So Alice, did you crochet that amazing waistcoat yourself?'

Tala looked as if he'd quite like to bring a dinner plate crashing down on Bryan's head. If you couldn't trust the Lone Ranger to get you out of trouble, who could you trust?

Tonto rode valiantly to the rescue.

'It can't wait.' Ray's voice was firm. 'I'm sorry, but your godmother phoned up twenty minutes ago,' he told Tala. 'It seems she's had a bit of a mishap with a pair of handcuffs and somehow managed to get herself manacled to her Nautilus machine. She needs you to sort things out. Apparently you're the only one with a spare key.'

A disappointed – but understanding – Alice was dropped off outside Parson's Green tube station. Ray winced with sympathy as he heard Tala, outside the car, awkwardly mumbling his way through the it's-been-great-and-I'll-ring-you routine.

'Yes, but when?' Eagerly Alice clutched at his arm. 'Tomorrow morning, tomorrow evening?'

'That was a nightmare,' Tala groaned, collapsing back into the driver's seat. As they sped away, he lit a cigarette. 'And you were no bloody help, you pillock.'

'She's still waving.' Ray peered over his shoulder at the sad, droopy-hemmed outline of the figure on the pavement. Since nobody else was going to, he waved back.

'We turned up, didn't we?' Bryan grinned. 'I knew she'd crocheted that waistcoat. Jesus, you won't be doing that again in a hurry.'

'Isn't that a bit mean, dropping her off at the tube?' complained Ray. 'Couldn't you at least have given her a ride home?'

'My godmother's handcuffed to her Nautilus machine. No time to lose,' said Tala, after a moments hesitation. 'Thanks, by the way,' he told Ray. 'If it hadn't been for you we'd still be there, discussing crochet stitches and bloody horoscopes.'

'Who set you up?' Ray marvelled. 'I mean, I don't get it. Which of your friends seriously thought you two lovely young people would get on like a house on fire?'

Another pause, longer this time.

'Hang a left,' said Bryan. 'We'll go to my place. Ray wouldn't let me jump in the shower at his.'

'That's because you wanted to jump in with me.'

'Save water, shower with a friend, that's what I always say.' Bryan thought for a second. 'But you wouldn't catch me sharing a shower with Tala here. Hairy backs.' He shook his head. 'Always a bit of a turn-off.'

'That's another reason I wouldn't let you in,' Ray told him. 'So you wouldn't see mine.'

Bryan's flat was on the ground floor of an Edwardian house just off the King's Road. In the living room the walls were conker-brown and hung with framed prints of Formula One cars old and new. The highly polished wooden floor was strewn with multicoloured rugs. Ray was relieved to see that Bryan didn't go in for putting pictures of himself on display.

The sofa, in burnt-orange soft leather, was Olympic sized, as were the TV, the hi-fi and the bookcase housing every motor racing book known to man.

'Very tidy.' He noted the stacks of magazines in serried piles beneath the glossy walnut coffee table.

'Only because my cleaner's been in.' Amused by Ray's evident astonishment, Bryan pulled his white sweatshirt up over his head. 'My turn for a shower. Tala will get you a drink. Unless you'd rather keep me company in the bathroom, stop me getting lonely . . . ?'

'Tala can get me a drink.' Ray bounced on to the sofa, which was impressively squashy. 'Gosh, you could sleep on this thing.'

'You can do all sorts on it.' Bryan winked as he headed for the bathroom. 'But don't try anything too exotic before I get back.'

'Can I have a look around while you're gone?'

'Feel free, snoop all you like. Nothing embarrassing in my drawers,' said Bryan. 'No ancient boxers with pictures of pretty-boy pop stars on them in this flat.'

Ray hurled a cushion at him. Laughing, he exited, singing, 'When, will I, will I be famous?' in a breathless falsetto.

It was no good, some things were just too humiliating to hang on to. Those boxers were going to have to go.

In the kitchen Tala was wrestling with a bottle of Pinot Noir and a hi-tech corkscrew. His stomach by this time growling with hunger, Ray admired the range of nifty appliances on show, then peered into a few cupboards.

'This kitchen is all mouth and no trousers,' he announced. 'There's no food.'

'Plenty to drink though.' Tala showed him the fridge, stacked with lager, vodka, champagne and fruit juice. 'We're lads,' he added defensively. 'We're supposed to eat out. Real men don't cook.'

'I'll tell Marco Pierre White you said that. He'll come round and beat you up.' Ray held out a glass and watched him pour. 'The last time I saw you, you were practically naked and covered with bits of watermelon.'

'I hope you also noticed that I don't have a hairy back,' said Tala.

Following him through to the living room, Ray threw himself back down on the sofa.

'So who set you up with Alice?'

'Hmm?' Tala had his back to him. He was busy with the midi system, pressing buttons and flicking through a pile of CDs.

'Okay, put it this way,' said Ray. 'Did you answer her ad or did she answer yours?'