Conversations with Friends(26)

13




The next day we were clearing up the breakfast dishes and Melissa asked Nick if he would take the car to some shopping complex outside town to get new deckchairs. She said she had planned to go the day before but she forgot about it. Nick didn’t seem wild about the suggestion, although he said he would go. He said something like: oh, that place is fucking miles away. But not with any particular conviction. He was washing up the dishes in the sink and I was drying them and handing them to Melissa to put back in the cupboard. Standing between them I felt clumsy and unwanted, and I was sure Bobbi could see I was flushed. She was sitting on the kitchen table swinging her legs and eating a piece of fruit.

Take the girls with you then, Melissa said.

Don’t call us girls, Melissa, please, said Bobbi.

Melissa gave her a look and Bobbi bit into her nectarine innocently.

Take the young women with you then, Melissa said.

What, like for my amusement? said Nick. I’m sure they’d rather go to the beach.

You could take them to the lake, Melissa said. Or you could go to Chatelaudren.

Is that place there still open? he said.

They discussed whether the place in Chatelaudren was still open. Then Nick turned to look at Bobbi. His hands and wrists were wet.

How do you feel about long car journeys? he said.

Don’t listen to him, it’s not that long, said Melissa. It’ll be fun.

She laughed when she said this, as if to signal that she knew perfectly well it would not be fun. She gave us a box of pastries and a bottle of rosé wine to take in the car in case we wanted to have a picnic. And she pressed Nick’s hand quickly when she thanked him.

The car had been sitting in the sun all morning and we had to roll the windows down before we could even get in. Inside it smelled like dust and heated plastic. I sat in the back and Bobbi leaned her little face out the passenger window like a terrier. Nick switched on the radio and Bobbi withdrew her face from the window and said, do you not have a CD player? Can we listen to music? Nick said: sure, okay. Bobbi started looking through the CDs then and saying whether she thought they were his or Melissa’s.

Who likes Animal Collective, you or Melissa? she said.

I think we both like them.

But who bought the CD?

I don’t remember, he said. You know, we share those things, I don’t remember whose is whose.

Bobbi glanced at me over the back of her seat. I ignored her.

Frances? she said. Did you know that Nick appeared on a Channel 4 documentary about gifted children in 1992?

I looked up at her then and said: what? Nick was already saying: where did you hear about that? Bobbi had taken one of the pastries out of the box, something with whipped cream on top, and she was spooning the cream into her mouth with an index finger.

Melissa told me, she said. Frances was also a gifted child so I thought she’d be interested. She wasn’t on any documentaries though. She also wasn’t alive in 1992.

I went downhill from then, he said. Why is Melissa telling you this stuff?

She looked up at him, sucking the whipped cream off her finger in a gesture that seemed more insolent than seductive.

She confides in me, she said.

I looked at Nick in the rear-view mirror, but he was watching the road.

I’m a big hit with her, said Bobbi. I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere though, I think she’s married.

Just to some actor, said Nick.

It took Bobbi three or four bites to finish the pastry. Then she put on the Animal Collective CD and turned the music up really loud. When we got to the home supplies store Bobbi and I just smoked in the car park while Nick went inside to get the deckchairs. He came back out carrying them under one arm, looking very masculine. I crushed my cigarette under the toe of my sandal while he opened the boot and said, I’m afraid this lake is going to be a major disappointment.

Twenty minutes later Nick parked the car and we all went down a little lane, surrounded by trees. The lake lay blue and flat, reflecting the sky. There wasn’t anyone else around. We sat on the grass by the water, in the shade of a willow tree, and ate cream pastries. Bobbi and I took turns drinking from the bottle of wine, which was warm and sweet.

Can you swim in it? Bobbi said. The lake.

Yeah, I think so, said Nick.

She stretched out her legs on the grass. She said she wanted to swim.

You don’t have your swimsuit, I said.

So? she said. There’s no one here anyway.

I’m here, I said.

Bobbi laughed at that. She threw back her head and laughed up into the trees. She was wearing a sleeveless cotton blouse, printed with tiny flowers, and her arms looked slender and dark in the shade. She started unbuttoning the blouse. Bobbi, I said. You’re not really.

He can take his shirt off, but I can’t? she said.

I threw up my hands. Nick coughed, like an amused little cough.

I actually wasn’t planning to take my shirt off, Nick said.

I’m going to be offended if you try to object, said Bobbi.

Frances is the one objecting, not me.

Oh, her, said Bobbi. She’ll live.

Then she left her clothes folded up on the grass and walked down to the lake. The muscles of her back moved smoothly under her skin, and in the glare of sunlight her tan lines were almost invisible, so she appeared whole and completely perfect. The only sound after that was the sound of her limbs moving through the water. It was very hot, and we had finished the pastries. The light had moved and we were no longer in the shade. I drank some more wine and looked out for Bobbi’s figure.