Jake’s nearly choking with laughter.
‘I really hope she doesn’t spit in our pudding,’ I say.
‘Me too. I really want to taste it and I’m hungry.’
We’re still laughing about Sonja when our puddings arrive and, thank goodness, they seem to be unadulterated.
‘That wasgood,’ Jake says as he finishes scraping his plate completely clean. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Thank you.’ I’m more pleased than I would like to admit by Jake’s clearly sincere praise.
I’m actually getting congratulations from all directions of the tent, both from the other tables and from the serving staff who’ve also tasted the food, but Jake’s means the most by far. Nearly as much as the judges’ praise in fact. I feel as though Iknowhim now, and I think praise always means more coming from people you know. But also, it feels particularly huge to have finally impressed someone who was so extremely antagonistic towards me when we first met.
16
JAKE
We’re told that we have half an hour to digest our dinner – apparently Sonja doesn’t think a group of people doubled up with stomach cramps after doing salsa on fondue-filled stomachs would make great TV – and that we can do whatever we like in that time.
Freya and I look at each other.
‘Back to our rooms?’ I ask.
She’s already on her feet.
We speed-walk the whole way there. Freya giggles so much at how stupid she’s sure we both look on camera, especially from behind, that I start laughing too.
We make it back to the apartment very quickly. I’ve had my key at the ready the whole way, and open the door immediately.
‘Oh my goodness, the relief of being away from that woman and the cameras.’ She flops down onto our sitting room sofa as I close the door firmly behind us, and I sit down on the other end of the sofa.
We loll there in a nice, companionable silence for a minute or two, both of us spread out over our halves of the sofa, both with our eyes half closed. It’s been a tiring day.
Then Freya says, ‘Why do you think she’s so mean? It’s like she’s completely amoral.’ Obviously she’s talking about Sonja. ‘Do you think she’s had a difficult life? Do you think that’s why? Because surely this sadism is not normal.’
‘I think it’sher. At work I obviously meet a lot of people going through very difficult times. Many of them – usually women – have been cheated on by their spouses or treated badly in some other way. Some of them turn into demons in response. But most of them don’t. Some peoplearejust amoral. Some canbecometricky in some way. And others just behave amazingly well in the face of awful adversity.’
Freya nods slowly.
And then I hear myself say, ‘Like my brother and my parents. My brother had a terrible accident and is in a wheelchair for life, and my parents are his carers, and none of the three of them have ever uttered a word of complaint.’
Where did that come from? Why did I tell her that? It’s almost like Iwantedto, like I want her to understand me, to know that I’m not just about my work and underappreciating romantic fiction. I think it’s because I’ve begun to like and respect her as a friend. I’d like her to feel the same way about me.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She places a hand on my arm, and it’snice. ‘That must have been so hard. How long ago did it happen?’
‘Twelve years.’ Yeah, no, there’s a limit. I don’t actually want to go into details. ‘What about you? What are your family like?’
‘Dreadful,’ she says, laughing. ‘And let me tell you theydocomplain. Did, in the case of my father. We lost him a few years ago. Yep. They had abaddivorce and they werenotpolite about each other afterwards. Ever.’
‘That sounds hard too,’ I say. I reach for her and hug her into me for a long moment, before releasing her slightly when I begin to feel as though I’m enjoying the hug too much.
Something occurs to me – maybe her parents’ unamicable split has something to do with her belief that romance is not for her – and I open my mouth to comment, before closing it again. I like her. I feel as though we have a burgeoning friendship and might perhaps even stay in touch after this. I do not however feel as though I’d like to confide further in her about my family, and I therefore should not be asking her more about hers, or what effect it’s had on her.
‘You know what?’ she says. ‘It’s totally fine. A lot of people have much worse things to deal with. Like your family. I’m good. Plus, I’m a hypocrite.I’mcomplaining aboutthem. And, when I think about it, only my mum complains. In a disappointed way. My dad was just plainrude. Anyway.’ She looks around the room. ‘Game of cards?’
‘Yeah, good idea.’ It seems like we’d both welcome a break from serious conversation.
We decide to play whist, and it’s fun. It turns out that Freya has a really, really good memory for cards. I like a card game or two but she absolutely smashes me. Over and over again.
