Page 68 of Friend of the Family

‘God, you are drunk, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, maybe that’s it.’

They sat in silence for a while, smoking and watching couples stumble about on the grass.

‘So why are you sitting here on your lonesome? You lost Annabel?’

David blew smoke through tight lips. ‘Kind of on purpose, actually. We had an argument.’

Amy turned to look at him. ‘Bad?’

‘Dunno. Maybe. I sort of told her I hated Camilla and Bruce.’

Amy hooted with laughter. ‘Really? Well it’s about time. Whenever those two walk into the room, it’s like the end of The Wizard of Oz: like all the colour has been sucked from the world.’

‘And what about Annabel?’

‘What about her?’

‘Do you like her?’

‘Oh no,’ said Amy. ‘You’re not dragging me into your relationship problems. I side with you and say you’re well shot of her, then five minutes later you’re back together and I’m a disloyal bitch. You two sort this out between you.’

‘No, but seriously, Amy, I need to know. Do you think we fit well together?’

She looked at him for a moment. ‘Not for me to say, is it?’

‘Perhaps not, but I respect your opinion, you know that.’

It was true. Amy was one of his social circle, just like Max or Juliet, but it was her opinion he always sought out. What did she think of the film? Did she like the hot new band? Did she think he looked good in this jacket? He asked other people too, of course, but he only really cared what Amy thought. In fact, now that he thought about it, the fact that his entire wardrobe was blue came down to the fact that Amy had once said he suited navy.

‘Seriously, David, I can’t tell you what to do.’ She paused.

‘But?’

‘But I will say that out of all the people I know, you’re the bravest.’

He laughed, anticipating a punchline, but her face remained impassive.

‘Brave? I’d say I was the least brave person you’ve met.’

‘Well that’s crap,’ said Amy. ‘Take all this.’ She gestured towards the college grounds with her cigarette. ‘Oxford. It’s the playground of the rich and privileged, right? And you’re right at the centre of it, like the dictionary definition of a posh boy.’

He gave a twisted smile. ‘Well thanks. Is this supposed to be making me feel better?’

‘It should, because you’re not like them, David, that’s your saving grace. You don’t kowtow to those chinless dicks and you don’t play their silly little games. Do you really think I’d be friends with you if you did?’

‘I was rather hoping that you found my clichéd posh-boy act sexy.’

‘Not my thing,’ she grinned. ‘Still, I’m trying to compliment you here. It takes a lot to stand up to your friends and to walk your own line – that’s why you’re different.’

‘But that’s just it, Amy,’ he said, sitting forward. ‘I don’t feel I am. I mean, what have I ever done other than what’s expected of me? I went to a posh school, I played in the first eleven, I got into Oxford

and I walked around wearing a bloody cape for three years. What’s so special about that?’

‘It’s not what you did, it’s the way you felt about it. You felt uncomfortable – you feel uncomfortable about it now, don’t you? That’s why you’re sitting here on these steps instead of doing shots with Max. And that’s why you’re going to leave here and do something special.’

‘What, like discover a cure for cancer?’