Primperfect (26 page)

he did.

‘You read this trash?' he asked.

‘Yeah.'

‘I thought you were supposed to be clever.'

‘Do you know what an entailment is?' I asked.

‘No.'

‘Can you explain to me the ins and outs of Regencyera British family law?'

‘No.'

‘Then maybe
YOU
should read
Earl Interrupted
.'

‘Hmmm.'

He opened a page. It was, as I had kind of known it was going to be, full of sex. I blushed a little. So did he.

‘Prim. This is …' His voice went low, in case anyone would hear us. ‘This is
lady-porn
.'

‘Not all of it. And I prefer the term Regency romance.' I folded my hands into my lap and sat straight-backed, like a decent governess.

‘Are
ALL
girl-books like this?'

‘I resent the term “girl-books”. Books don't have genitals.'

‘This one does.'

‘Only from chapter twenty-three on, and it's both kinds so that hardly genders it.'

‘You know what I mean, romance novels or whatever. Are they all this … explicit?'

‘That's not the worst of them. It's like, only ten per cent sex. Most of it is build-up.'

‘Oh.'

‘Oh, what?'

Robb looked as though he were about to cry. His lower lip trembled and his eyebrows did a thing like they were deciding to be sad but then decided to be angry and then went back to normal all in the space of five seconds.

‘My nana reads these. Like, all the time. She gets them out of the library.'

‘Why shouldn't she? Besides, it's like the most socially acceptable form of porn there is. There aren't any pictures. Apart from mind-pictures. And people have those sometimes, even without books featuring the adventures of a sexy yet relatable earl and his sensitive yet damaged soul-mate the hot governess.'

I was actually properly embarrassed and I wanted to stop talking but I couldn't. It was like Steve the goblin with the drinking. I knew that the words should stop coming out. The words like ‘genitals' and ‘sex' and ‘explicit' and, oh God, ‘
mind-pictures
'. I should not have let him open the book and encouraged the conversation about it. It made everything pure tense, because the thought of earl sex was there in the room, glowering at us. Sexily.

Robb coughed.

I blinked.

‘This is almost as awkward as that time I told you that thing about the ducks, isn't it?'

‘Yes.
YES
! Why did you tell me that?'

‘I don't know. If I knew why I do the things I do, I would just stop it and not do them. I wish it were that simple.' He was playing with the catches on the bottom of my quilt and not looking at me.

‘That would be good for me as well, I think.' I was staring at his hands but I could feel his eyes on my neck.

And then we started kissing. Kissing is a really nice way to spend, like, forty-five to fifty minutes. At first, when Robb kissed me, I really noticed his teeth, and I still did, but with a bit of practice we seemed to come together in a softer, nicer way. He did this weird thing though. He, like, put his tongue in my ear.
And I kind of liked it.
Does this make me a terrible lady-pervert, well suited to my reading material?

I mean, I know ear-shifting is hardly a sex act. But it was so unexpected. I was, like, ‘This is going to be pure weird,' and, ‘
Oh
.' I have never, ever discussed ear-shifting with anyone. I must ask Ciara about it. She's gotten up to some devilment in her time and will surely weigh in on the subject in a clear-eyed and non-judgemental manner.

I was very glad I'd cleaned my ears that morning. He gave them quite an attentive seeing-to.

After a bit of kissing, though, I kind of started thinking about Dad and Sorrel and so I had to call a halt. Because they have no place in that section of my brain.

‘Do you want a cup of tea or something?' I asked.

‘OK.'

Robb with two bees is quite a biddable young gent, for all that he disapproves of my reading choices and didn't know where Bolivia was. As we drank the tea, he tried to hold my hand.

‘I need that to dunk my biscuits, Robb.'

‘Right. Sorry.'

‘It's OK. You can hold my hand afterwards.'

I smiled at him. He smiled back.

Fintan came in and we both stopped smiling. Me because I was reminded of his fertility and poor judgement and Robb because Dad was glaring at him in a threatening manner. The kind of manner that says, ‘When I begin to talk, I am going to address you as “young man”. But what I'll actually mean is “loathsome boy”.'

‘Hello, Rob-buh'

‘It's just Robb,' I said.

‘Oh, I thought that you had two bees.'

‘My name is Dad, Primrose.'

‘I do, but it's pronounced the same.' Robb looked at Fintan the way a hedgehog looks at a busy road it is doomed to cross.

‘So … what film are we watching?' Fintan asked, clearly intent on ruining my life.

He looked Robb up and down and clearly decided that this young man was a threat of some kind. He put the kettle on again and smiled. I looked at Robb. He looked at me.

Oh God.

‘We hadn't decided yet. Probably something set in a high school?' I said. Dad hated high-school movies. He said they were too high-pitched.

‘Wonderful. I'll watch too. It will afford me some insight into the teenage mind.'

He slapped his hands down on his jeans and brushed off imaginary dirt as though it was made of Robb.
DE.LIB.ER.ATE.LY
.

‘What kind of film do you want to watch, Mr Leary?' said Robb.

Oh God.

‘My name,' said Dad, ‘is Fintan Hamilton.' And written between the lines of dialogue was this:
and you would do well to remember it, lest I garrotte you
.

Whereupon Robb actually asked my dad's permission to go to the bathroom. Fintan wrinkled his brow.

‘Number One or Number Two?'

‘
What?
'

‘I'm only messing, lad, off you trot.' He smiled.

It reminded me of the way that a dog will roll over and show its throat to another dog to show submission. Robb had recognised who the alpha male in the house was. Which you'd think would have made it increasingly difficult for me to fancy him, but you'd be wrong. Seeing my kissing companion reduced to requesting bathroom breaks so he could get away from my dad awoke something protective in me.

Once Robb had closed the door, I properly hissed at dad.

‘My name is Dad. I told you.'

‘Dads are nice. And you, Fintan, are being mean.'

Dad looked at me, all innocence.

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘You totally do. Come on.'

He had the grace to look a little bashful.

‘I just wanted to get the measure of him, Primmy.'

‘You do not get the measure of someone by cutting them down to size and then measuring them. You broke my sort-of-boyfriend, Fintan.'

‘What's a sort-of-boyfriend? Is it one of those
friends with benefits
things I read about online?'

I started to really notice the veins on his forehead. They were kind of
purpling
with emotion, if that can be a verb.

‘No.
NO
. I just haven't decided if I like him enough to be, like,
exclusive
.'

Something like horror passed over my father's face. I think that I had properly scandalised him.

Robb came back in. He looked a bit wan. ‘I was thinking we could watch that Stones documentary I brought on my memory stick.'

Fintan looked at him. ‘The Scorsese one?'

Scorsese is a director old dudes and young dudes who think old dudes are cool and want to emulate them like.

‘Yeah.'

‘You might not be a total loss, my boy,' said Fintan, who is vastly under-qualified to make such judgements.

Robb, who had apparently forgotten the list of creepy facts about Fintan I had shared with him not an hour beforehand, looked as though he had been given a birthday present made of winning lottery tickets.

‘Thank you, Mr Hamilton.'

Dad nodded approvingly. He patted him on the shoulder. I got a little squirmy. Was Robb, like,
flirting
with my dad? Something was definitely going on with the two of them. They thoroughly enjoyed the film. I crocheted a little and they mocked me for being a granny. I don't even know what I'm making, actually. It started off round, but it's more of a square shape at the moment. I think it might ultimately end up a blanket.

Robb's mum came to pick him up around half ten. He shook Fintan's hand, and went to give me a hug, but looked at Dad and shook mine too. I thought of his hands on my tummy on the bed earlier that evening. Such different touches.

His mum's car drove away and it was me, Dad and my outrage.

‘You did