Love Your Life(94)

“No problem.” I smile tightly. “Well done. It was a really good event. Congratulations.”

“Well, it’s easy when I’m working with Matt,” says Genevieve modestly. “We have a great rapport onstage. We’re a natural duo. Everyone says so.” She sighs with a happy air and looks around the space, which is filling up with people. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

I don’t know what on earth she’s talking about. The flower arrangements? The chairs?

“Matt’s family,” she clarifies, gesturing at Elsa and John, who are standing a few meters away, and I blink in shock. Matt’s family? Wonderful?

    “Sure,” I say, and take a gulp of wine.

“Matt’s a sweetheart, obviously, but his family are even lovelier. Elsa and John are like second parents to me,” she adds in sincere tones. “They’re so wise. And such fun!”

I know she’s probably exaggerating to wind me up. But even so, I can’t help feeling a twinge of sadness. Because that’s exactly how I hoped I’d feel about Matt’s parents. I wanted to love them. I wanted to bond and have little in-jokes. I was so optimistic. But, truthfully, I can’t even imagine Elsa having an in-joke.

“I don’t know them as well as you do,” I parry. “Not yet.”

“Well, they couldn’t be sweeter. Elsa just gave me this—look!”

She shows me a brand-new watch on her wrist. It’s baby-pink leather, covered in a flower print. Maud’s four-year-old, Romy, would adore it. As I peer at it, a sudden thought crosses my mind and I look up.

“Matt told me you love his art collection, Genevieve?” I say lightly. “The Arlo Halsan pieces,” I add, just to be totally clear. “The ones at his flat.”

“Oh, I do.” She nods vigorously. “I love his work!”

Ha. Ha! Caught her out. She does not. She cannot possibly like both a pink watch covered in daisies and a grotesque sculpture of a hairless wolf. It’s not feasible.

“What exactly do you love about his work?” I press her, not bothering to hide my skepticism, but Genevieve doesn’t seem to notice. She sips her drink, thinking.

“I love that it startles me but then makes me think,” she says at last. “I love that it’s grotesque but beautiful. I love the concepts behind each piece. Although I think you have to read Arlo Halsan’s autobiography to really understand what he’s trying to do,” she adds. “Monster Dreams. Have you read it?”

    I’m having a horrible, terrible dawning as she talks. She genuinely does like the art. She likes it! As I gaze at her immaculate, pretty face, I feel a deep sinking inside. I don’t want to compare myself to Genevieve. But, oh God. There she is, oozing compatibility with Matt-land. She adores Matt’s art and his parents and his family business. She probably loves a well-trained dog, too, and a rare steak every night. And I don’t like any of them.

“What about the naked saunas?” I say, sounding more confrontational than I meant to. “Did you ever get used to those?”

“Oh, I love being naked in the sauna!” says Genevieve earnestly. “So freeing. I think it’s a wonderful tradition. I’m so grateful to Elsa and John for introducing me to it!”

What did I expect? Of course she loves the naked saunas. I expect she has gravity-defying boobs and is super-proud of her pubis. It probably has its own Instagram account.

“So, are you coming out to Japan with Matt?” Genevieve’s chirpy voice interrupts my thoughts. “I’ve been looking at apartments to rent, but I don’t know where to start.”

“You’re moving to Japan?” I stare at her stupidly.

“Didn’t Matt say?” She blinks at me. “I’m writing a book about the Harriet’s House phenomenon in Japan. I’ll be in Tokyo to do my research. I’m going to use an office in the Harriet’s House building. Oh!” She brightens as though with a new thought. “We can all hang out! If you come with Matt. Though maybe you can’t get away from your work, Ava. Or your dog.”

    She tilts her head pityingly, a sly look in her eyes, and everything falls into place. I gaze back furiously, trying to transmit the words that are forming in my head. I see you. You’re planning the big Matt and Genevieve reunion in Japan, aren’t you?

“Yup,” says Genevieve sweetly, as if she heard every word.

My hand is clenching my wineglass more tightly. How could Matt not have told me this?

“Matt!” Genevieve exclaims, and I whip round to see him approaching.

“Matt!” I say, a notch louder, and grab him by the arm. “Brilliant show…well done…Can I have a quick word?”

Without even looking at Genevieve, I hustle him away to a quiet place at the side of the room.

“Ava, I’m sorry,” he says at once. “Genevieve shouldn’t have mentioned you; they should never have beamed that spotlight on you—”

“It’s fine.” I brush his apology away. “But listen, Matt. Everyone thinks you’re going to Japan. You need to put them straight.”

“I know,” he says after a tiny pause. “I will.”

“But shouldn’t you do it sooner rather than later?”