“Right. Yes. Of course. The lines.” Her husband – for in this life, that was who he was – looked around at all the tables and upside-down chairs.
He was wearing a faded Jaws T-shirt. “Have Blake and Sophie gone home?”
Nora hesitated. She sensed he was talking about people who worked for them.
The young man in the baggy rugby top was presumably Blake. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
“Yes,” she said, trying to sound natural despite the fundamental bizarreness of the circumstances.
“I think they have. They were pretty on top of things.” “Cool.”
She remembered buying him the Jaws T-shirt on his twenty-sixth birthday. Ten years previously.
The answers tonight were something else. One of the teams – the one Pete and Jolie were on – thought Maradona painted the Sistine ceiling.
Nora nodded and stroked Volts Number Two. As if she had any idea who on earth Pete and Jolie were.
To be fair, it was a tricky one tonight. Might take them from another website next time.
I mean, who actually knows the name of the highest mountain in the Kara-whatsit range?
“Karakoram?” Nora asked. “That would be K2.” “Well, obviously you know,” he said, a little too abruptly. A little too tipsily.
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