In Bed With Lord Byron

ignoring Byron’s whispered objection: ‘What on earth is
this
?’
My hands were visibly trembling. ‘How lovely.’
    ‘Yes, well, I can’t go for too long,’ said Anthony. ‘Work.’
    ‘He’s such a workaholic,’ I said to Kerry, and for one moment we smiled in a moment of unexpected bonding.
    ‘Well, I’ve persuaded him to take a week or two off,’ said Kerry. ‘Then he’ll have plenty of time to meet my parents.’
    ‘Oh, right. Wow. How lovely.’ I felt as though my tiramisu was about to start rushing back up my throat. ‘So – is it serious between you two? I mean, obviously, it must
be.’ I laughed.
    ‘Well, it . . . it is, yes, I . . .’ Anthony said, and Kerry touched his wrist lovingly.
    I swallowed. ‘I know how scary it is, the whole introducing your-man-to-your-parents, I mean. I introduced Brian to my mum and sister this morning, and boy, was it scary.’
    ‘Really?’ Anthony’s spoon froze in mid-air. ‘So you two are serious too?’
    Under the table, I held my fork near to Byron’s balls. He smiled and sloped his arm around me, declaring:
    She walks in beauty, like the night
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that’s best of dark and bright
    Meet in her aspect and her eyes . . .
    ‘Wow,’ said Kerry. ‘How
romantic
. A guy who writes poetry. I mean, years back I once tried to write a poem for Anthony and I rhymed
love
with
dove
.’
Seeing Byron wince, she said quickly, ‘Well, Brian, maybe I could call upon you to help next time.’
    ‘I should be delighted to educate you in the finer merits of the iambic pentameter,’ said Byron. I saw Anthony’s jaw clench. ‘But Lucy is my only pupil right now and I
must pay her due attention.’ Then, revelling in his role, he leaned over and nuzzled my cheek and neck, until I turned my face and was forced to suffer a kiss. I fought the urge to slap him,
before wrenching away, flushing.
    ‘Anyone for coffee?’ I muttered.
    Anthony was very quiet after that. I felt myself float in euphoria for a while – the look on his face must indicate jealousy, surely? But as we sipped coffee, I had to
admit it was probably just shock. After all, I was the world’s worst commitment-phobic and now I had a new bloke out of nowhere and I was introducing him to my mother. Oh God. My head
throbbed. Everything was just getting more and more messy; every minute, every word, seemed to be driving Anthony further and further away from me.
    ‘Hey, Lucy,’ Anthony suddenly piped up, ‘you said you had a present for me.’
    ‘Oh?’ Kerry sat up.
    ‘So I did.’ I laughed uneasily. Once again, the moment felt all wrong, but I was backed into a corner now; the more I protested, the more suspicious I might appear. Trying to still
my shaking hands, I went into the bedroom and brought it out.
    Anthony unwrapped it. Kerry watched intently.
    ‘A cravat!’ Byron exclaimed. ‘Of course, I changed the whole fashion of cravats in 1815, when I suggested they should be worn with an open collar . . .’ He trailed off,
realising nobody was listening.
    Anthony slid the silk through his fingers. I felt happiness and hope blossom in my heart for the first time that evening. It was just the sort of artistic, romantic present I would never have
bought him when we were going out. And I could tell he was both surprised and pleased.
    ‘It’s so lovely, Lucy,’ he sighed, leaning over and hugging me. ‘What have I done to deserve this?’
    ‘Oh, it’s just a friendship thing,’ I said, laughing quickly. It was then that I made the fatal mistake and gave the game away. I glanced at Kerry, and she saw, in a flash,
before I could cover it up, the naked longing in my expression. I saw the glint in her eyes that registered:
I have competition
.
    What made it all the more painful was that Anthony hadn’t got it at all. He was just smiling with cheerful innocence, thanking me over and over. Then the conversation ran out and the
coffee cups were empty.
    ‘Fancy a game of Trivial Pursuit?’ I asked hastily, desperate to prolong the evening.
    ‘Yes . . .’ Anthony began.
    ‘Actually,’ said Kerry firmly, ‘we have to get going, don’t we, Anthony? We’re going down to the coast tomorrow, so we’ll have an early start. Maybe another
time.’ And she smiled at me again, only this time, any flicker of warmth had gone.
    We waved them goodbye, and I stood on the doorstep, watching them walk down the street. Anthony drew off his coat