How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(32)

‘God, don’t be. Obviously, I didn’t expect you to.’ He smiles into his pint, those dimples, those freckles, those eyes. I know I’m on dangerous ground here.

‘You’ve gone quiet again. What is it? Is the tacky gift offensive?’

I smile. ‘No. It’s lovely. I think I’m just nervous.’

‘Why are you nervous?’ he asks, face a picture of innocence.

It’s hard to explain to a date that he’s the first man in a long time that you haven’t imagined dicing into parcel-sized pieces and feeding into a meat grinder.

‘I don’t know. I just don’t get why you messaged me. I mean I’m pretty much everything you go against, aren’t I? Spoiled and ignorant?’

He has the decency to look horrified. ‘I didn’t mean you when I said that! Jesus, anything but. You surprised me. At the gala, I mean. I expected you to be like Hen and the others, but you’re not. You’re layered. You’re interesting. You shook my world a bit to be honest. I didn’t think I was the sort of person who made presumptions about people. But it turns out I do. And I was wrong.’

‘You thought I was like Hen?’

‘Yeah. When you came over to talk to me while I was trying to memorise my speech. Remember? I just thought you were going to be another shallow rich girl.’

‘Hey!’ I nudge his foot with mine under the table. ‘Those shallow rich girls are my lifelong friends.’

‘You’re not like them though, are you.’ It’s a statement not a question.

I have a gnawing need to turn the conversation away from myself. ‘Why did you go down this road? The charity one? Why was your dad so cross?’

His eyes narrow slightly as if he’s considering something, but he quickly shakes it off. ‘Jesus … I don’t know where to start really. I guess I’ve always been a bit “worthy”.’ He does the finger-quotes thing that usually makes me want to tear my own skin off, but he does it with a self-deprecating half grin that makes me melt a little bit. ‘You know the sort of thing: “Save the Ozone Layer” at school, militant household-waste inspector at home. Made my parents move from one bin to three. I think they assumed I’d grow out of it. But I never did. I’ve just always felt that unfairness. Why some people have everything and others have nothing. Does that make sense?’

I nod, captivated by his passion.

‘And I guess I very much felt that people like me, like us, can do so much more, you know? I don’t need all the money my family were offering. It doesn’t make me happy.’

‘What makes you happy?’

‘Helping, I guess, making a difference. I was a very deep and troubled soul as a kid. I grew up seeing humans doing awful stuff everywhere. God, oil slicks, fox-hunting, recycling aluminium cans. I clearly watched too much Blue Peter. But it had an effect on me. All life deserves a chance. Don’t you think?’

I almost choke on my drink.

‘All life? You don’t think there are any exceptions to that? Don’t you think there are some scumbags crawling the earth who deserve to be six feet under it? What about that girl you were talking about? Yara? If she was taken, trafficked, wouldn’t you want those responsible to pay? Imagine you were there with a gun, knowing what they’d done to her. There must be a part of you that would want to avenge her?’

A cloud passes over his face and he looks down at the table, chewing his bottom lip. ‘Fuck. I don’t know. Obviously, I should say I’d try to make sure they got justice the proper way. But when you put it like that …’

‘Imagine the rage you’d feel,’ I push. ‘That animal part of your brain wants to hurt them.’

‘Jesus, I really don’t know. If we’re talking about that primal part of our brain that we can’t control, I think it’s impossible to say how anyone would react in a situation like that. Fuck, this has got really heavy again. Aren’t these the sort of topics everyone says to avoid on a first date?’

‘Okay.’ I nod. ‘So, what’s your favourite colour?’

He laughs.

We have a wonderful evening when we stop talking about all the most serious things in the world. Plus, I beat him twice at pool (a secret skill of mine), which impresses him no end. He’s such easy company, funny, clever and obviously not offensive to look at. I’m pretty gutted when he says he needs to get home as he’s got an early meeting.

‘One of those things I can’t excuse myself from,’ he says as he waits with me for my Uber. ‘So, let me know if there’s anything I can help you with? I can send you some shots of the exhibits if you want to post them on Insta? Hashtags and all that.’

Wait, what? WHAT?!

‘Is that the only reason you asked me out?’ An overwhelming mix of hurt and fury begins to pulse through my veins. ‘So, I’d take some photos and hashtags of your exhibition and post to my followers? Bit of free PR?’

Charlie stares at me, his eyes pools of confusion. Or something resembling it. ‘Kitty! No! I didn’t mean it like that! I just …’

‘You just what?’

He opens his mouth to give me an answer but I don’t wait for it. A car pulls up and I don’t even bother checking if it’s for me before I get in.