Game

Lloyd indicates the large variety of fruits we bought at the market. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’

‘No, I mean –’

‘I know what you mean. Let’s just call it Bombe Surprise.’

‘No, let’s not. What can I actually expect?’

He reprises his exaggerated Clouseau accent and disappears into the bathroom, waggling a finger at me in what he must think is a Gallic style. Twat.

‘What shall I wear?’ I call after him, desperate for a clue.

‘Nothing,’ he shouts through the door.

Seriously? Nothing?

I put the ingredients together, cover them with foil and slide them into the oven.

I wander into the bedroom and look at the dress I brought for the occasion. Lloyd can’t expect me to sit at the table eating in the nude. What if I spill hot sauce on myself? He’s just joking. I put on the dress and a pair of stockings and make a start on my make-up.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Lloyd emerges from the bathroom in a towel, hair wetly tousled.

‘Duh! Getting ready. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.’

‘You’re wearing clothes.’

‘Yes.’ I hold the mascara wand steady, half an inch from my eyelashes. ‘And?’

‘I told you. Unnecessary.’

He strides around the room, gathering shirt and trousers from the wardrobe, socks and pants from the drawer.

‘Unnecessary? Maybe in the Stone Age, but I’m no cavewoman.’

‘Ah, but you are.’ He locates his deodorant stick and applies it with a will. ‘You are a cavewoman. And I’m Captain Caveman.’

‘You aren’t hairy enough. Besides, I always hated Captain Caveman. Can’t you be Dick Dastardly instead?’

‘Yeah, OK. And you can be Penelope Pitstop. Naked Penelope Pitstop.’

I give him a look while he buttons his trousers and loops his belt through them. ‘I don’t remember that scene in Wacky Races.’

‘I must have daydreamed it. Get that dress off. Chop chop.’ He claps his hands then returns to buttoning his cuffs.

‘But why?’ I complain. ‘Why must I be naked?’

‘Because I said so.’

‘It is only Rachael and O coming tonight? Nobody else?’

‘Just me and you. Though you might not be coming.’

‘Hur hur.’

‘But if my calculations work, you will be.’ He sprays cologne beneath his chin, grinning demonically.

‘OK.’ I take off the dress. ‘Will that do?’

‘And the rest,’ he says. ‘No knickers required.’