Acquired Tastes by Simone Mondesir Page B

the table one last kick, which sent it careening across the room, causing several people to jump out of the way.
    'Goal!' he roared and then drew himself up to his full height, which was about five-feet, six inches, and hitched his rather shabby corduroy trousers up around his sizeable waist. They immediately slipped down again, so that the crotch was only six inches above his knees.
    Winter and summer, Fergus had never been seen wearing anything else but these trousers and a navy blue Aran sweater that was beginning to unravel at the wrists. Together with his weather-beaten skin, which made it impossible to guess his age - it could have been anything between thirty-five and fifty-five - they gave him the air of the captain of some rusting tramp ship.
    That impression was further emphasised by his unsteady rolling gait as he walked across to the drinks table, where Shirley was holding out a tumbler full of neat whisky with a smile that transformed her face.
    He grinned at her and downed the glass in one. 'Another one of those, my little darling, and I'll be right as rain.'
    His voice was deep and resonant with a slight Scottish burr. Holding his refilled glass, he turned and surveyed the room. 'What are you all looking at? I could sue for industrial injuries caused by that table.'
    Heads turned away and conversations started up again.
    Fergus spotted Alicia and raised his glass in salute. 'There you are my pretty. Now where's this poncey media woman you want me to meet?'

Seven
    Vanessa felt an unfamiliar prickle of apprehension. She was used to men looking at her lustfully, as though they’d like to eat her, but the wolfish yellow-brown eyes narrowly inspecting her had a sharpness that suggested Fergus was not quite as drunk as he wanted his audience to believe, and that when it came to eating, his appetite was not only voracious, but distinctly carnal.
    'You're a bit of a spindle-shanks. I like my women with meat on their bones, like Alicia here,' Fergus declared in loud, jovial voice, putting his arm around Alicia's waist and giving her a squeeze.
    Alicia blushed deep rose-red and gave him an embarrassed but adoring smile, but it was lost on Fergus. His eyes continued to hold Vanessa's.
    'Still, you're probably built for speed rather than comfort as my old mum used to say.'
    Fergus downed his whisky in one gulp and gave Alicia a resounding kiss on the cheek.
    Vanessa drew herself up to her full height, which in heels was nearly five inches taller than Fergus. His provincial cave-man attempts at charm might work on someone as unsophisticated as Alicia, but they were wasted on her.
    'It's a pity your old mother didn't teach you manners as well as clichés,' she said caustically. She turned to Alicia, who was rather ineffectually trying to extricate herself from Fergus's grasp. 'Alicia, I thought you had better taste than this …
drunk.'
    Fergus gave a bark of laughter. 'Another puritan. And here was me thinking it was only universities that were full of small-minded people.'
    At this, all the Senior Common Room faces that had been staring in their direction looked away.
    'Fergus … Vanessa … Please … ' Alicia pleaded, looking helplessly from one to the other.
    'I haven't come all this way to bandy words with an inebriated Scot.' Vanessa managed to make the word 'Scot' sound like an insult. She nodded curtly at Alicia, and then turning on her considerably high heels, stalked out of the room, her nostrils flaring.
    Fifty pairs of interested eyes followed her to the door, and then swivelled back to Fergus and Alicia.
    Alicia fumbled for a handkerchief and blew her nose. This wasn't what she had planned at all. 'I'm not really meant to tell you this,' she gulped, 'but Vanessa has only come to Heartlands to meet you. I told her about your research and she thought it might make the basis for some sort of television programme. Now she will probably abandon the idea and go straight back to London.'
    Fergus straightened up,