‘Not what?’ she asks; clearly the language barrier extends to unspoken assumptions.
‘You know… together?’
‘Me and Florian?’ She laughs at me, a loud, enthusiastic laugh. ‘God no, he’s old enough to be my dad… well almost.’
‘Sorry, I just thought, when you turned up earlier.’
‘I was as surprised as you were. He came into the bar yesterday lunchtime. He was in one of his moods.’
‘His moods?’
‘Oh you know, where he goes all quiet and serious. Something must have pissed him off, you know. Anyway, he stayed till the evening, and then before he went, he just kind of told me I was coming to the lake today. I wasn’t going to say no, it’s nice to do something different. This place starts to feel as if the walls are closing in at times.’ I fixate on her description of Florian and his mood, the mood that started after he walked in on me dancing in my underwear with Archie in the next room.
Inés shrugs. ‘So no, just friends, and barely that. You have nothing to worry about.’ I notice how she takes me in then, our eyes meeting as if we are sharing some secret. I wonder if Florian has told her about the other night; I don’t know why he would but still, I feel exposed.
‘Oh, I’m not worried.’ I shake my head and clutch my glass a little tighter to my chest.
‘He’s nice.’ I look as she gestures to the kitchen. The two men have found a common purpose: Archie has his back to us, tending to a frying pan on the stove, Florian now has his head down in concentration, chopping up vegetables and depositing them in a salad bowl.
‘Who?’
Inés tuts, ‘Archie!’
‘Oh, sorry! Yes, he’s great.’
Archie announces that the food is ready; he calls us to our seats and instructs me to get another bottle out for dinner. I struggle with the cork until Florian rescues it from my grasp with a shake of his head.
Florian goes to sit as far away from me as possible but Archie points at the seat opposite me instead. ‘Sit there, thought couples next to each other and all that.’ I wince at the word, watch Florian’s eyes flutter to mine for the briefest moment before fixing back onto his plate. Archie places a platter of chicken in brandy sauce on the table, followed swiftly by potatoes, the salad and a basket of bread.
We all thank Archie for his efforts who bats them away humbly.
As we start to eat, we descend into a hungry silence, only the sounds of cutlery on plates and wine glasses refilling occupy the table. I do my best to keep my eyes on the plate, to not let them wander to the figure opposite.
‘Ava says your exhibition was good the other day,’ Archie breaks the silence; I have come to the realisation that he will always find the need to fill a gap in a conversation.
‘Yeah, there was a big crowd, makes a change. We normally have to beg people to come, that or invite the schools and then it just turns into a glorified nursery for teenagers who would rather be anywhere else.’ Florian skewers a potato onto his fork.
‘Are you working on anything else at the moment?’ The piece of chicken turns to gristle in my mouth. I think of the sculpture sitting in Florian’s studio, think of the counter that we both sat on, think of the way his skin felt under my fingers, how cold and unyielding his lips were. No matter how much I concentrate on chewing down the clod of chicken in my mouth, it won’t give up; it catches in my throat. I splutter and cough until I can feel all eyes on me. Archie pounds on my back and I grab the napkin and deposit the contents of my mouth into it. When I look up through watery eyes, Florian shoots me an incredulous look that I know translates to something close to, ‘Wow, doing a really good job of playing it cool.’
‘Easy, babe,’ Archie laughs as he fills up my water glass but I bypass it in favour of the wine instead. I rest my cutlery on the plate and hope he doesn’t take offence that my appetite has immediately vanished.
‘I’m working on something new but it’s a while away from being finished. I have another exhibition in Bergerac tomorrow evening, same old stuff from before with a few additional pieces.’
‘Are you going?’ Archie asks me when I have returned to a normal colour.
‘I didn’t know about it,’ I answer honestly. Florian shifts in his seat.
‘So, Archie.’ Florian changes the subject. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a business analyst. Consultancy mainly –finance.’ He adds that last bit in as an afterthought.
‘Impressive.’ Florian’s voice is muffled from a bit of bread.
‘Not really, just got lucky and people haven’t found me out yet.’
‘He’s lying,’ I interject. ‘He’s great, won awards and everything.’ I lean into Archie and he smiles gratefully at me.
‘And how did you two meet?’ Florian persists. My eyes linger on Archie’s, whose gentle smile has now turned into a wry little grin, thinking back to that first awful night that we fell into each other’s orbits.
