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He glanced across at me. “I do, though.” He tapped his temple. “There’s a lot gets lost up here these days, but I remember that.”
I’d tell Florian one day, about this little chat. Not now, not until we were friends again. Not until I’d shown him I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Florian’s a bit of a worrier,” I observed diplomatically.
“He is that. He’s taken on the cooperative, you know.” Pride shone in his eyes. “My clever lad. He’ll do a good job.”
I didn’t doubt it.
The old man gathered himself together and got to his feet, leaning on the cane. “It’s a decent spot for a rest and a chat, this bench. Me and Beatrice have had many a good chinwag here, putting the world to rights.” Looking down at the bench, he gave it a friendly pat. “Don’t wait until people are dead, Charles, to give them flowers. And if there’s anything you ever need to get off your chest, you know where to come.”
CHAPTER 34
FLORIAN
Charles laughed in English, even when he was speaking French. I couldn’t pinpoint how it was different, except that it was. It wasn’t an especially hearty, bellyaching laugh, neither was it a boisterous, raucous show-offish one. In fact, even its joyfulness was quiet and unassuming, like it didn’t want attention drawn to it. Not unlike Charles himself. Tonight, however, it was not too many steps removed from a giggle.
Unbelievably, it was coming from my kitchen.
Mind you, the sound froze in his mouth when I pushed open the door. At least he had the good grace to be embarrassed.
“Finally!” Papi exclaimed. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
Seated around the kitchen table, they were playing Uno of all things. Papi and Charles each held a fan of cards and two colourful piles sat between them.
“It’s a much better game with three people, isn’t that right, Charles?”
“Another person to trounce, you mean.” Charles smiled at him before throwing me an anxious look. “We bumped into each other out walking. Papi… um… invited me back for a drink. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay.” Papi deftly rearranged his hand. “Florian missed you when you went away, isn’t that right, Florian?”
So that wasn’t embarrassing. “It’s fine,” I said, in as fine a manner as I could manage. “Deal me into the next hand and I’ll be back after a quick shower.”
The gorgeous laugh floated after me up the stairs. Mon dieu, how much I still wanted him. My delicate Charles, with his fragile mind and tender kisses. With his silvers and greens and yes, I was here for all the scary fucking oranges and reds too. And the clinging, soul-sucking dark shadows. I wanted to feel everything with him. The love of course, and the fun sexy times. Putain, I wanted plenty of those. But I wanted the pain, too. The days when his skies clouded over, and his oceans turned grey and choppy. When his canvases were filled with ugly jagged lines or ripped to shreds before the paint had even dried. When he needed someone to hold him in their arms ready to catch his fall. I wanted to be there for all of that too. Oh, fucking merde, he hadn’t even needed to say hello when I opened the door. He had me the moment I heard that sweet sound filling my ordinary little kitchen.
But before I explained that to him, I was going to have to sit opposite him and play fucking Uno.
We began the evening being ultra-polite to each other. Dancing around, trying to act as though we weren’t two people who’d had sex, endured a massive psychiatric illness, spent the wilderness months apart, reunited with a fall out, and not quite made up again. I think we made a decent fist of it. Papi didn’t seem to notice, anyhow. He’d never queried where Charles had disappeared to over the winter, nor why I’d struggled to get out of bed some mornings.
Charles, it turned out, was fiercely competitive when he put his mind to it. As was my grandfather, even if he did need prompting almost every time it was his turn to play. Which saddened me, as that was a recent development, even though Charles smoothed it over in such a way that it wasn’t a big deal.
Anyhow, I lost every hand, and I had a sneaking suspicion Charles let Papi win the last couple.
I swear three salt harvests came and went before we packed away the Uno, then sat around the table eating my hashed together supper of cold meats, cheese, and salad. Charles had always praised everything I put in front of him; according to him, his culinary skills were on a par with Papi’s, who munched noisily through every scrap before finally shuffling off to watch the football in the room next door. Which meant I got to watch Charles wash up, better sport than anything Canal+ were offering tonight. Even if he had donned a pair of pink rubber gloves I didn’t think had seen the light of day since my grandmother died.
“So, apparently you missed me,” he began, as Papi cranked the television volume up to sonic boom levels.
“Meh. You know how he likes to exaggerate.”
How the hell had Papi picked up on that when he didn’t even notice he was stirring salt not sugar in his coffee? “What other lies has he been telling you about me?”
Rinsing the glasses under the cold tap, Charles chuckled. “That you like bird-watching. You are a walking encyclopaedia of island birdlife.”
Mon dieu, thanks Papi. He’d be telling me he knew all about my old coin collection next. I drained my wine glass with a rakish flourish, possibly in an attempt to reinstate my cool persona. “As I said. He never lets the truth get in the way of a good story.”
“And you’re quite the numismatist.”
Oh, fucking merde. I poured a second glass. I was definitely not going to offer to help dry the dishes now. Charles reached for the plates.
