Golden Luckenbooth

Twenty-Five

When we enter the pub in our - sigh - matching outfits of blue jeans and vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirts, there aren't many people around, and I am saddened that this tradition seems to be fading, especially amongst the younger generation.

"Phones." Brodie insists, holding out a basket.

While I'm dropping mine into the container, Harry says, "Didn't bring it, mate," which I know to be utter bollocks since he had put it in the front pocket of his jeans when we left the house.

Walking away, he whispers to me, "Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to use it to cheat. I just – it's got phone numbers and other info on it that I wouldn't want someone else to get. You know?"

His words remind me that there's likely a plethora of phone numbers of famous people on there, including James Corden, Stevie Nicks, and Adele. And yet I'm the person he is choosing to spend time with right now. It gives me tingles.

"Just don't touch your pocket or draw it out to look at it," I caution quietly, "and for heaven's sake, the ringer better be off. You'll disqualify the whole team if anyone knows you've got it."

I spy Blair and Lorna at our usual table, and I stride in their direction, Harry meekly following behind me. I'm actually surprised that he hasn't hooked his finger in my belt loops so he doesn't get left behind. Despite the rebuke, he's as excited as a child at Hogmanay, and his eyes roam the room with a shimmer of ebullience.

Surely this isn't his first pub quiz night?

"Harry!"

I'm startled to hear a voice calling his name although I shouldn't be. He's famous after all, even to non-fans. If it's possible, his face lights up even further, and he exclaims, "Ellis!" With a gleeful grin, he dances to her, his legs out to each side and his arms pumping up and down like some sort of giant deranged puppet brought to life.

Ellis. Of course.

Now I'm faced with either tagging along with Harry to greet his childhood friend or making my way to my own friends.

"Anna! Come say hi to Ellis."

Well, that settles the internal debate. Blair has spotted us, and a look of confusion crosses her face as her gaze shifts from me to Harry to Ellis. The beginnings of a headache start just behind my eyes, and I vow to make it stop. This is supposed to be a fun night – not one that tests my nerves.

"Ellis, this is Dr. Anna. She's the vet who saved Boomer when I nearly killed him with grapes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Anna." The woman has risen and shakes my hand. "Although I believe we've met before, haven't we?" She gestures towards her husband Jamie who also greets me warmly.

"We did meet once when you brought the cats in for their jags."

"Oh yes. I remember now. Jamie usually takes care of the animals. Have you got a team tonight?" Ellis inquires, and I notice that there are already two others at their table, and the maximum team size is four. "These are our friends Chelsea and Matthew. This is Harry and his –" Helpless, she looks to Harry.

"Future mother of my child," Harry grins.

Shit. He just announces it like that. So casually. My temples are really starting to pound now.

"Awwwww...always the romantic, aren't you, H?" She pats him on the shoulder before turning to me. "I'm sure that's years away, Dr. Anna. Forgive this sentimentalist."

My mouth opens and closes. Now what? Correct her and confirm the presence of the foetus? Nod and smile and back away so that she finds out later and feels like a div?