The Things We Do to Our Friends(27)

“Why would I care about Samuel?”

“Oh, whatever,” she shrugged, as if she had no interest in discussing it any further.

I knew they thought there might be something between Samuel and me. I glanced along the bar to where Finn was busying himself and doing his best to ignore the whole thing.

“Won’t you want to go back to the U.S.?”

“Don’t worry about me. I might go back for a few days. I’ll fly from Bordeaux, I guess.”

I didn’t show it, but inwardly I noted the remarkable cost that would be incurred by her spontaneous travel planning, and how little she seemed to care.

“Okay. I mean, it sounds great. Why didn’t Tabitha ask me, though? It’s her house.”

Ava finished the dregs of her drink and put it to one side. “She just wanted me to do it. But it won’t be all lying in the sun. There’s a project she wants to begin—something for all of us. France will be a perfect place for us to talk to you about it.”

So that was why we were going to France. I nodded; I was used to the projects, and surely it was linked to the documents I’d found in Tabitha’s drawer, all the different business ideas whirling in the background. But now, I learned, there was something else underway too.

“This one is a change. In scope,” she said.

“Any clues?”

“You’ll find out when you find out, and don’t worry, Tabitha will sort your ticket. All you need to do is turn up at the airport.”

I didn’t reply, let the scenario play in my head, and then I blurted out, “Why me?”

Ava tipped her head to one side. “Explain?” she said.

“Why did you choose to be friends with me?”

I hoped I wasn’t showing that I’d found the photographs.

I could tell Finn was pretending not to listen in the corner with his back to us.

She looked calm, unreadable, giving nothing away. I could almost see her brain working.

“You overthink things—but I think it’s because you see it like us, or like her anyway,” she said with a sigh.

“What do you mean?”

She smiled and pulled me over, so we looked out onto the street in front of the bar. “Look out and tell me the first thing you see,” she said, and I did. I stared out of the window, aware that she was completely focused on me and on what I was looking at.

I saw a woman wrapped up in a floor-length black coat with an enormous greyhound pulling at the lead. “Well, there’s a woman in a coa—” I started.

She cut me off with a laugh. It was always odd when Ava laughed, but this time it was quite natural, just her own delight in being right.

“Yup.” She patted my arm. “That’s why.”

“Why what?”

“Because you’re just like Tabitha. You want to see the beauty and the glamour, the buildings, the food, the people who have far too much money. Houses that take your breath away, dramatic liaisons and secrets; things to be spectacular. I don’t think either of you even see the rubbish on the sidewalk or the workmen. The electricity bills, council tax, the cogs of life, the shitty bits, all the unglamorous parts. I see all that, but the two of you, I think you view the world in the same entirely unrealistic way.” She paused for effect. “Or maybe it’s nothing like that and you’re just a misfit like the rest of us. Anyway, enough heart-to-hearts for today.”

She was right in a way. Tabitha and I did see the world selectively most of the time. It wasn’t something that I necessarily considered a flaw or a talent.

She threw Finn the largest, fakest smile I’d ever seen and left.

“So friendly, your friends,” Finn remarked, scooping up Ava’s discards in one hand. The gherkins were stained and bean-shaped, like feline kidneys, and he flicked them in the bin.

“I know they can be cold sometimes,” I said carefully.

“Cold? They treat me like a servant, but for some reason, they’ve deemed you good enough to associate with.”

“I don’t think they quite treat you like a servant. I’m sorry you feel that way.” I used what I thought was my most conciliatory tone.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Quit the counseling bullshit. I couldn’t care less. I just think you need to be careful who you spend your time with. There’s something creepy about them.”

“They’re interesting; they’re fun to be with. And they chose me. They want me to be their friend.”

“Why? What if they only like you because you’re pretty?”

I laughed at that.

Redness entered his cheeks and he turned away from me. This was what I liked about Finn. I didn’t find much of what he said very interesting most of the time, but there was a hesitant sweetness to him that came out occasionally. Compliments that I didn’t think I needed.

“Is that right?” I said.

“Oh, shut up, you know you’re pretty,” he said. “In all seriousness, it’s strange. They never come in together, it’s all just ‘popping in’ to see you, or one of them randomly turns up on some pretense. They look at the menu, at how much stuff costs, even though they’re clearly all loaded. That guy Samuel looks like he’s going to a funeral every time I see him, and that girl, Ada, is it? She dresses like a dominatrix. It’s fucking weird.”