I turn to him, his eyes still lost in the sky. ‘How do you mean?’
‘She’s not been the same since…’ He pauses, looks at me to see if I know, if I look blankly at him he won’t finish his sentence because he doesn’t want to give The American’s biggest secret away. I admire that protectiveness, can see the depth of the friendship that The American builds with those she lets in.
‘Since Bluette?’
His shoulders relax. ‘You know?’
‘I have the synopsis, you know, the major plot points,’ I add.
‘I met them the first day I moved here. They were at the same bar and they sniffed me out. We were inseparable from then on. They made it all easier in those blurry months when you’re just trying to find your feet.’
‘What were they like? As a couple?’
I watch as his face glows a little at the memory. ‘As happy as clams.’ He nods. ‘Yes, you know, it sounds a bit saccharine, but it made me truly believe that there was such a thing as soulmates because when you saw them together, how easy it was for them to be in each other’s company after all that time, everything sort of made sense.’
The sentimentality hovers over us. I allow myself to imagine them, drinking in cafés for breakfast, reading extracts of books to each other, Bluette painting whilst The American put together another mad outfit, just the mundane moments of complete happiness that made the sadness of losing it all worth it.
‘And Bluette?’ I add. ‘What was she like?’
‘Doris’s total opposite,’ he smirks. ‘But lovely all the same. Blu was kind, soft, almost shy, she liked to sit back and watch people, but there was a gentleness to her – no judgement, just… peace.’ He gulps back a lump in his throat which seems to bring him out of the memories, back to the here and now. ‘God, we shouldn’t be crying this early into the weekend, it’s not even the big day yet.’
I squeeze his spare hand in agreement.
‘Well, anyway.’ Crispy takes another drag. ‘You’re a good friend to her, Ava, she appreciates good friends.’
I feel myself blush, the heat spreads down my chest. But this is my chance. Crispy is my chance to finally figure this out. ‘Crispy…’ I start. He looks up. ‘This is going to sound really stupid but I don’t think I can be considered a very good friend because… Well, I don’t actually know her name.’
Crispy grins, his whole face ruching up, and then he starts laughing. It’s silent at first until the air catches on his breath and he starts to honk.
‘You still haven’t figured it out yet? Good God, Ava, I thought you were meant to be smart; I mean there are enough clues in that sodding apartment.’
‘There are?’
‘I hope you figure it out by tomorrow otherwise I’ll owe her a hundred!’
‘She knows? You’ve placed bets on it?’
‘Oh my dear, Doris thinks it’s the funniest thing that’s happened to her in a long time!’
I feel the heat in my face subside. ‘And she doesn’t hate me?’
‘Hate you? Darling, she adores you. You just remember that. She just wants you to be happy.’
I let the reality sink in, how one of my biggest embarrassments has actually been something that The American has been revelling in, all this time.
I sigh, pull a hand through my hair and prop myself up on the lounger looking at him properly with a grin. ‘You’re going to tell me now that your name isn’t actually Crispy, aren’t you?’
‘Well, aren’t you clever,’ he smirks. ‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t as lucky in the nickname department. I was a dancer in my youth – ballet,’ he adds and brings his arms up above his head in a static pirouette. ‘Pretty damn good if I do say so myself and my birthname wasn’t exactly inspiring.’
‘Go on…’
‘Oh…’ He looks around to see if anyone’s listening and when he realises the coast is clear he sighs. ‘Bernard.’ He side-eyes me. I try to wrestle the emerging grin from my face.
‘How lovely,’ I choke back.
‘You’re an awful actress, darling,’ he pouts. ‘Well, anyway, when I started auditioning I wanted a stage name, something refined, classy, unusual, so I became Crispin Fée.’
‘Wow… that was a choice.’
