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“Oh, I can never read the small print,” Henry complained. He held his phone out to Victor, who peered at the screen.
"Er, The Daily Herald,” he announced.
Gabriel gave a huff of frustration. “Aw, fuck it.”
Lilith put her Champagne glass down and held her hand out to him. ‘Ha. Called it. That’ll be twenty Euros please, Mr James.”
Gabriel grudgingly passed her a twenty. “Well it should have been the BBC. That’s all I’m saying.”
Nat took a swig from his bottle of Estrella and patted Gabriel on the arm. “One day, my friend, you will learn not to bet against Lilith bloody Bresson. One day...”
“It’s always The Herald for this kind of stuff, you thick twat,” Lilith said. “Mainly because they don’t give a shit that the only shots they can get are from about a mile away, and if they don’t know any of the details they just make them up.”
‘Who wants to read it out?” Henry asked, and gave a quiet hiccup. “I think I’m a little too tiddly to do it justice.”
“Gabriel can,” Lilith said, and passed him the phone. “Call it the runner-up prize.”
“Also,” I added, “He’s got the loudest gob.”
“Finn, stop being so mean!” Niamh called out.
“Yeah, Finn, stop being so mean,” Gabriel said, and gave me the finger. “Or I’ll set your sister on you.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“Niamh, I should hope,” Feargal said. “Poor bugger hasn’t done anything bad enough to deserve Sinéad.”
“Fuck right off!” came a voice under the dining table. “I am here, you know.”
“Remind me why you’re under there again?” I asked.
“Because your bloody nephew has made a den here for himself and the kittens, and he’s determined to eat their kibble before they do,” Sinéad answered. “It’s just a good job one of us is being responsible!”
“Am I reading this sodding report or not?” Gabriel demanded above the laughter. He cleared his throat and the room settled.
Breaking News: Controversial British artist Lilith Bresson, in the news earlier this year for her entanglement with Lady Blaine Albermarle, who is perhaps better known to our readers as Bloody Lady B due her depraved lifestyle and sadistic sexual practices...
“‘Entanglement’ is certainly an interesting word for it,” Lilith said. ‘False Imprisonment Alongside an Extensive Range of Other Offences Under UK Law’ might be a little closer to the truth, no?”
I grinned at her. “God, you’re such a nitpicker.”
“Ahem, excuse me, the pair of you are already interrupting my flow,” Gabriel James interjected. “Please respect your artiste.”
“Give over, you absolute melt,” I said, and bounced an olive off Gabriel’s forehead. “Now crack on.”
“Ow. When the peanut gallery decides to shut its fucking trap, then I will. So...” Gabriel waited for silence to fall then cleared his throat and continued to read.
...Sadistic sexual practices has finally wed her live-in boyfriend and former sex...
Gabriel paused and frowned. “Nah, not reading the nasty parts,” he said, and Lilith mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. “Not today, folks, fuck ‘em. I’m not usually a fan of censorship of free speech, but I’m making an exception for the pile of absolute shite that is The Daily Herald. I’m just going to jump to the interesting bits; I’m assuming we’re all OK with that?” He was answered by a range of cheers and laughter from our little gathering, and read on.
The marriage was a brief affair at the town hall in Santa Marita, the small Spanish coastal town that Ms Bresson now calls home. The bride wore a vintage floor-length dress in her usual 1950s style, and made the interesting decision to wear white...
“It’s 1930s, you absolute wanker!” she yelled as if the reporter were in the room. “And I chose white because I look fabulous in white!”
In truth, ‘Fabulous’ didn’t quite do Lilith justice. She wore a simple long snow-white satin empire dress that was nearly one hundred years old but could have been made to measure the day before for her petite frame, and her lustrous jet-black hair was loosely pinned up and held in place with snowy little sprays of gypsophila. She’d finished her outfit with a pair of topaz teardrop earrings that flared with light every time she moved and perfectly matched those ice-blue eyes that had captivated me from our very first meeting. I couldn’t quite believe she was mine.
Gabriel looked up at her, shocked. “And there’s me thinking it was because you were a virgin. Anyway...” he read on.
