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They walked out a little after one. Somewhere across town, sixty men were drinking in a pub that didn’t know their names, building a case that had just fallen apart.
They were welcome to it.
Carly was already working through a plan for getting home, out loud. Lauren let her finish before pointing out that the taxi was right there.
38
Carly
The phone rumbled across Carly’s nightstand. She rolled over and fumbled for it, then jabbed the accept button.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she croaked, squinting against the sunlight penetrating a gap in her curtains.
“Do you?”
Carly pulled the phone away from her ear. Samantha’s voice was harsh enough at the best of times, but with a hangover it felt like someone scraping her brain with wire wool.
She looked down at her watch. “Um, yes.” The time was already eleven o’clock. She never used to sleep in.
“Have you only just woken up?”
Swinging her legs off the bed, Carly rubbed her eyes. “I had a late night. New Year’s Eve party.”
“I suppose you need to let your hair down occasionally.”
Carly let out a burst of laughter. She hadn’t expected those words from Samantha’s mouth and resisted pointing out that it was what Beth would say. “I only had three drinks.”
“You’re over thirty now. The beginning of the end where hangovers are concerned. I don’t even bother anymore.”
“No? What did you all do last night?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. We were in bed by ten.”
“I think we’ll do the same next year,” Carly said, tucking her feet into her slippers. She leaned back and shoved the slumbering mass on the other side of the bed. Lauren hadn’t so much as stirred. Down the hall, a tail began thumping against a radiator. They’d taken the taxi via the bungalow to fetch Berkeley, the driver only agreeing after a long look at him, and he’d ridden the rest of the way to Carly’s in the back with them. He’d come home wearing the paper hat Lauren had put on him in the cab, and Carly’s flat had not been designed with forty kilos of German Shepherd in mind.
“We?” Samantha replied, a hopeful lilt in her voice.
Carly hesitated, unsure how she felt about revealing the details of her romance. It was one thing with friends and teammates. Even staff. But Samantha would have an opinion.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” she said. Lauren rolled over, her arms poking out from the duvet and wrapping around Carly’s middle. It made her smile. “Early days, but I’m feeling hopeful about it.”
“Bring her.”
“To lunch?”
“Of course to lunch.”
Carly paused again. She hadn’t been in a room with her dad since he moved, and today was going to be hard enough.
Before she could reply, Samantha added, “Bring Berkeley too.”
“You’re volunteering to spend time with Berkeley? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Berkeley is Dad’s dog and he’ll want to see him. And he’ll want to meet your girlfriend. Happy families, no?”
No, not usually, but Carly wouldn’t prod at this apparent progress. Maybe Christmas Day had sunk in.
“What about Beth?” Carly asked.
