““While Olivia takes care of business, I approach my brother, leaning against the wall beside him, arms crossed. “Congratulations,” he says, sulking. “Bastard.” “Thank you.” “Olive looks gorgeous. Prick.” “She does. I’ll tell her you said so.” “I’m really happy for you. Wanker.” I laugh. “It’s going to be all right, Henry.” He drinks from his flask, flinching as he swallows. “Easy for you to say. Prat.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” He shrugs. “Probably. Eventually. Of course I will. When I’m sober.” “Any idea when that may be?” “Henry, there you are!” our grandmother clucks from across the room. “We must speak about the memo I sent you…” Henry lifts his flask and shakes his head. “Not today.””
