“Well, Artie, it was very nice twirling with you, but I’d better be going.”
“Please don’t go,” Forrest says, with more intensity than either of us was expecting. Artie looks from her dad’s face to me and back again. “I mean not on my account. It’s fun to watch you and Artie twirl.”
“Yeah, stay and play!” Artie says, grabbing my hand. “Daddy doesn’t twirl.”
“The thing is I only came here to hide,” I confess to her. “I should probably go back out there.”
“Hide-and-seek!” Artie claps her hands. “I’m the best at hiding. I hid under the couch once and I was so still and quiet that Daddy called the cops!”
“Yeah, well,” Forrest says. “You could have given me a clue on that one, nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I do like the idea of hiding withyouin this folly, Artie,” I tell her.
“Oh no, this isn’t a folly,” Forrest says, looking around. “This is a memorial that Lord Beaumont built for his daughter Eliza. It’s not finished because her life was unfinished, and it’s full of flowers on his instruction, because she loved to watch the butterflies. It’s a place for her to come and play.”
“Oh, Eliza,” I say, pressing my palm to my heart as I think of that white face pressed between the banisters of the staircase. What if the shadow of that little girl has no idea that this garden is waiting here just for her.
“Yes,” Forrest says, scooping a delighted Artie up and tossing her squealing over his shoulder. “It’s hard enough losing one person that you love. The thought of...”
“Hi, you guys!” The beautiful woman that arrived with Artie appears in the doorway. “Don’t you want lunch, Artie?”
“Lunch, I’m starving!” Artie leaps out of Forrest’s arms, races to the woman’s side, and, grabbing her hand, starts to drag her back towards the castle with speed, shouting over her shoulder, “Hurry up, Daddy!”
“Artie is brilliant,” I tell him with a smile. “Such a happy, confident kid. She obviously gets on really well with...” I don’t know what to call the beautiful woman.
“River,” he says. “Yes, we are both so lucky to have her in our lives. Speaking of which, I better catch up with them...”
“Look.” I stop him as he’s about to leave. “I know you and I are about as different as chalk and cheese, but I am never afraid of admitting when I’ve been wrong about something. So, for what’s it worth, I thought what you did with Megan today was really great.”
There are a host of other words that are queuing up to be spoken aloud, “moving,” “important,” and “brave” among them. But I keep my mouth closed.
“Really?” Forrest asks. “I’m surprised you think so. It wasn’t groundbreaking or world-changing, like your stuff.”
“It might have been for her,” I acknowledge. “I know a bit about being an angry, scared kid, and I think maybe if I’d had something like your program to turn to, it might have made my life a bit... less lonely. So there.”
Forrest takes a couple of steps through the wildflowers towards me, his dark eyes searching out my gaze. And for a moment I think of the scene inA Room with a Viewand wonder if he might scoop me into his arms and kiss me before I have time to think about it. He doesn’t though, and I’m not sure if my heart is racing so fast from relief or anger.
“Can I ask you a question, Ava?” Forrest tilts his head inquisitively.
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“Why am I your nemesis?” He shakes his head, bemused. “What did I do to you? I know it’s not just because you’re science and I’m arts, I know you’re not that kind of person. So, what did I do?”
“Let’s just put it down to a bad joke,” I say, turning away from him. I don’t want to show Forrest any more pieces of myself. I don’t want him to know any more of me. It feels like I’ve already given away enough to be dangerous.
“But you aren’t joking.” Forrest catches the lie right away. Rani always said I didn’t have a poker face. “Look, I’m not the sort of insecure guy that needs everyone to like me. That you of all people told me that you saw merit in my work is maybe the greatest compliment I have ever received. But if I have nemesis status in your head, I think I have the right to know why, and I know you think I should know, but well, I guess I’m that stupid.”
Maybe it’s that precise word, or the way he squares his shoulders and lifts his chin a little, that rubs me up the wrong way, or maybe it’s that he combs his tumble of dark curls off his tanned face every other breath, but mostly it’s that it hurts all over again. Not just the time Forrest put me down, but all the dozens of times I heard that same insult over and over again, growing up.
“You called me stupid,” I said. “Twice. In front of other people.”
“I most certainly didn’t,” Forrest protests. “I would never...”
His refusal to admit his crime is infuriating.
“You most certainlydid, and I have a witness,” I insist. “Right after I spilt my wine on you, you said, and I quote, ‘How could you be so stupid?’ When your mic was switched on.”
Forrest claps his hand over his face for a second before pushing his fingers into his hair.
