Richard was pleasantly surprised to find himself enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, at Bryony’s fourteenth.  As he talked and larked around with Charlotte, Jessica, Boris and Luke, he caught sight, momentarily, of John and Emma, chatting and laughing.  Rich couldn’t help but wonder…At any rate, it was a relief to see the two of them on speaking terms again.

   Steve and Julie had been and gone.  Richard’s brother was taking his girlfriend out for a meal, and then they were going back to their new flat, for an “early night”.  They’d been having a few of those lately.

   It was odd, but now that Steve was treating Jules right, Richard felt less protective towards her.  He felt less for her, full stop.

   It seemed as thought just about everyone was there, that night.  Just as well that the Bishops’ lounge was so spacious – and contained no particularly valuable-looking, to Richard’s inexpert eye, ornaments.

   The one person whom he hadn’t yet seen was Bryony herself.  At least, not since she had let him in, when Richard had first arrived, a couple of hours ago.

   "Jess, you and Boris have got to dance together!  I mean it!  Wouldn’t they make a great couple, Rich?"

   "How many of those have you had?" asked Jessica, indicating the can of Stella, which Charlotte was knocking back, like the pro that she definitely wasn’t.

   "Jessica’s right," said Rich, lightly touching Charlotte’s left arm.  "Take it easy, or we’ll be carrying you into a taxi, by the end of the evening."

   Charlotte placed her can on a near by coffee table for a moment, and glanced at Rich.  "Point taken.  I’ll ease up a bit."

   It was then that Richard realised that Tracey and Donna were approaching, and they didn’t look too happy.

   "A word, Anderson!" screamed Tracey, as the two girls physically dragged a totally bewildered Richard out of the Bishops’ living room, and into the entrance hall. 

   Shit, for five-footers, who probably weighed about twelve stone between them…

   Some couple, whom Rich didn’t know, were snogging for England, at the foot of the stairs.

   "Break it up, you two!  You’re disgusting!" screeched Donna.

   "Get back into the living room!" ordered Tracey, shoving them in that general direction, to help them on their way.

   The two young people actually obeyed, seemingly out of sheer confusion, and fright – leaving Richard alone, with these two madwomen.

   He finally located his voice.  "What the Hell do you think you’re doing?  Have you both completely lost it?"

   "Having a good time, were you – flirting with Charlotte Fisher, and her smelly little friend?" demanded Tracey.

   "I wasn’t flirting with Charlotte or Jessica, as it goes.  Anyway, what is it to you if I was?"

   "We happen to care about Bryony, even if you don’t," said Donna.

   "What has this got to do with Bryony?"

   "Don’t pretend you don’t know," said Tracey.  "If you weren’t interested, why make her think that you were?  This is supposed to be Bryony’s birthday party, and she’s upstairs, crying her eyes out.  Me and Donna are her mates.  What do you expect us to do – say nothing?  You’re taking the piss, if you think that, Anderson.  You are so like your sodding brother!"

   Richard tapped on the bedroom door.  "Bryony?  It’s Rich.  Can I come in?"

   No answer. 

   "Bryony, are you okay?" 

   Still no answer.  He opened the door, anyway.  She was curled up, on her bed.  Her normally sparkling brown eyes were red-rimmed, and swollen.  She really was upset.  But over him?  It didn’t make sense. 

   Rich thought that she had lost some weight.  You didn’t notice details like that about your friends, on a day to day basis, did you? 

   "Hey, what’s wrong?"  Suddenly, the air felt almost unbearably stuffy.  "Is it Julie?"

   "J-Julie?" He caught the expression in her eyes, as she repeated her sister’s name.  Until then, he’d wondered if this whole thing wasn’t some sort of wind-up.

   There was a comparatively brief, but painfully awkward, silence.

   "Funny, I thought you’d have moved on from my sister – what with you and Charlotte."

   "It’s true, isn’t it?" said Richard.  "What Tracey and Donna just…"

   "Oh, great.  Some friends, those two…"

   "Bryony, listen, I don’t fancy Charlotte – never have."  For some reason, he wanted Bry to know that much.  "We’re friends, that’s all, and I’m spending a lot of time with her because, in case you haven’t noticed, not a lot of other people are talking to me right now."

   Bryony was silent.  She was finally listening.  Rich couldn’t believe how hard it could be to get girls to do that sometimes.

   "And Julie – yes, well, I made a bloody fool of myself over her, didn’t I?  But she’s living with my brother now, and I’m happy for them.  They’re good together.  My crush on Julie feels like a lifetime ago, and it’s bloody embarrassing to keep being reminded of it.’

   "Have I 'made a fool of myself' too, Richard?’

   Was she for real?

   "I have, haven’t I?"

   "No, of course you haven’t.  I don’t really get it, though."

   "It’s not algebra, Richard."

   "Just as well.  I never 'got' that, either.  Maybe that’s the problem."

   "You're losing me.  Are you trying to make some sort of philosophical point?"

   "No, Bryony – that’s just it.  That’s what you do – you and Tracey, and your friends in the top set.  I don’t do 'philosophical points'.  I don’t even know my sodding times’ tables."

   Bryony laughed.  "I won’t hold it against you.  I can even teach you, if you like."

   "Get stuffed."

   "You know, I used to think you were full of yourself.  You’re not at all, are you?"

   Richard was beginning to feel defensive, like a wild animal being cornered.  "You tell me – seems as if you’re the aspiring psychology student."

   Bryony didn’t reply.  She looked hurt, and Rich wished that he could have kept his gob shut. 

   "Sorry," he muttered, at length.  "Anyway, what about Mark?"

   "Who?"

   "Mark – your boyfriend."

   "Oh, you mean Mike.  You never could get his name right, could you?"

   "Yeah, well, I’m bloody thick.  We’ve established that much already."

   Richard detected the hint of a trace of a wry smile.  "I’m going to whack you one, in a minute!  You are not thick, Richard Anderson."

   "I just do a very good impression," suggested Rich.

   "Oh, yeah, you do that all right.  You'll probably even fail every one of your GCSEs, just for effect.  It’s easy enough to fail exams when you don’t bother with any of the lessons, don’t attempt the coursework and, at the end of it all, won’t show up to sit a single paper."

   "Hold on – why are we changing the subject?  How about Matt?"

   "You’re doing it on purpose now.  I haven’t been out with Mike for ages.  He’s going out with someone else now – Selina, I think is her name."

   "Sabrina, did you say?"

   "Richard!"

   "So, how long have you…?"  Look at her, Rich – not the poxy bookshelf, behind her head.

   "Fancied you?"

   Bry had loads of books, didn’t she?  How did she ever find the time to read them all?

   "I suppose, since that night at the hospital."

   Richard nodded.  It was beginning to fall into place.

   "I did like you before, years ago.  God, this is so embarrassing.  I haven’t even been drinking, and here I am, getting all confessional."

   "Actually, Bry, you don’t fancy it, do you?  A drink, I mean.  There’s some sort of party going on downstairs, apparently.  We could go to that, if you like?"

   This time, it was definitely a smile.  "Are you asking me to my own birthday party?"

   "Yeah, well, might as well go along, mightn’t we?"

   "Okay," said Bryony.  "I might just redo my mascara first, though."