Love Your Life(56)

“Tai chi!” I suddenly recall. “We do tai chi together every day.”

“Yes.” Matt’s brow clears. “Tai chi. That was Ava’s idea,” he adds. “She has great ideas. Always coming up with plans.”

“You have great ideas too,” I counter at once, but he shakes his head.

“I’m not as creative as you. I was a lucky guy, meeting Ava,” he concludes stoutly. “Best day of my life.” At this, Sarika’s face melts into a misty smile. (For all her talk, she’s secretly a bit of a romantic.)

“That’s so lovely. How did you hurt your head, by the way?” she adds, looking at the Band-Aid on Matt’s forehead.

    “Oh.” Matt smiles ruefully and raises a hand to touch it. “Pile of stuff fell on me at Ava’s flat. It’s pretty crowded in there, and there’s shit all over the place. I bumped into a dresser and a load of painting palettes and brushes fell on me.”

“It was only a small cut,” I say defensively, and Matt nods.

“At least I didn’t end up in A&E this time,” he says, and both Sarika and Nell goggle at him.

“A&E?” echoes Nell.

“Oh, didn’t I mention that?” I say evasively. “Matt had a tiny accident the first time he came to mine.”

“I sat on Ava’s ‘rescue chair’ and it collapsed,” explains Matt, and Nell snorts, then claps a hand over her mouth.

“Sorry,” she says. “Matt, have a drink. So, big question,” she adds as she pours him a cava. “Do you get on with Harold?”

There’s a long pause. I can see both Sarika and Nell waiting for Matt’s answer.

“Harold’s a character,” says Matt. “Definitely a character.”

“Do you have a dog?” asks Sarika.

“No, but my family keeps dogs.” He pauses again. “Although, you know, we train them pretty thoroughly. So. Bit different.”

I can see both Nell’s and Sarika’s eyes widening.

“Harold’s trained!” I say defensively. “He sits, he stays…sometimes….”

“Harold’s trained?” Matt echoes with a laugh. “Are you kidding? I mean properly trained. If you saw my family’s dogs, you’d understand.”

    “What are they trained to do?” demands Nell suspiciously, and I want to hug her for leaping to my side. “Jump through hoops?”

“Be civilized companions for their owners,” says Matt easily, and I feel a tiny stab of annoyance, because he knows I don’t like the word “owner.”

“I think it’s about communication, not training,” I say, trying to stay lighthearted. “And I’m not Harold’s owner, I’m his friend.” I reach down to ruffle Harold’s head but, slightly annoyingly, he’s gone over to Matt.

“He could do with some training,” says Matt, as though I haven’t spoken. “But he’s a great guy, Harold. Aren’t you, boy?” He addresses Harold fondly. “I can’t believe I let you in the bed. Dogs should not sleep in beds.” He looks up at Sarika and Nell. “Anyway, yes, Harold and I have bonded. Mostly because we’re the two meat-eaters in the house,” he adds cheerfully, at which Sarika’s jaw drops open.

“You’re a meat-eater?” She swivels to me. “Ava, you told us you’d found a vegetarian artisan carpenter!”

“Called Jean-Luc,” adds Nell with a wicked grin.

“The Jean-Luc thing was a misunderstanding,” I say, ruffled. “Anyone can have a misunderstanding.”

“And I’m a meat-eating capitalist,” says Matt robustly. “Sorry about that,” he adds, sounding not at all apologetic.

“But you’re on the way to becoming vegetarian,” I say, still trying to sound lighthearted. “You’re considering it, at least.”

“Nope.” Matt shakes his head, and I feel a surge of indignation, which I try to quell. How can he be so closed-minded? Didn’t he hear anything I told him about the planet?

    I’m suddenly aware that Nell and Sarika are scrutinizing me, and I hastily plaster on my loved-up euphoric smile.

“Anyway,” I say quickly, “it’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Nell peers at me, staggered. “Meat is no big deal to you?”

“No,” I say defensively. “It’s not. We’re in love.” I clutch Matt again. “The details are just details.”

“Right,” says Nell, looking skeptical. “Well, cheers to that.” We clink glasses, then I say, “Maud will be here in a moment. I’ll just assemble my vegetable mini-wraps.”

“Need a hand?” says Matt at once, and I can’t help shooting a triumphant look at the others as though to say, “See how helpful he is?”

“Don’t worry,” I say affectionately. “You chat with Sarika and Nell. I won’t be a minute.”

I spread out my picnic blanket next to Nell’s, take out my Tupperware containers, and start constructing my little wraps with vegetable strips and spicy sauce. I can hear Matt and my friends talking, but I’m concentrating so hard, I barely catch a word, until Sarika exclaims, “Golf!” in such a high-pitched, incredulous tone that half the park must hear her.