Sarah leans in close as her friend adopts a conspiratorial whisper. The clatter of cutlery and the hum made by the chatter of two hundred students masks the confession.
“I know Malky must love me because of what he does.”
Sarah leers, with what she believes is a woman-of-the world grin. “Why? What does he do?”
“He brings me his washing.”
Her friend sees the blink and frowns, “That’s intimate, right?”
“Malky’s knickers, yeah. Very intimate.”
“Well there you go – he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t love me, would he?”
Sarah scratches her temple. “Sounds like a bond.”
“And he does other things too.”
The pause is masterly, leaving Sarah no choice but to arch an eyebrow and ask.
“Malky doesn’t like going out. Always wants to stay in. Like, together – just us.”
“Is he … is it … I mean, is it good?”
Sarah’s friend giggles. “A bit quick. But then boys are, aren’t they?”
“Does he go again?”
“Sometimes, but usually he falls asleep and I watch telly.”