“I am anaveragenerd,” I say mildly.
He chuckles. “He was obsessed with them when he was at school,” he tells Xavier.
“Really?” Xavier is gazing at Jez like he holds the secrets of the universe. “What do you mean?”
“His godmother used to send him a box of all the latest ones at the start of every term.”
“The godmother who brought you up?” he says, turning to me.
I nod, setting the book on a table. It makes something in my chest feel warm that he’s remembered such a small detail about me. “Monique.”
“She’s a character,” Jez says.
“She certainly is. She was immensely kind to a grief-stricken child. She’s always been in my corner.”
“Not so much kind to other people, though,” Jez adds.
“You’re just bitter because she doesn’t like you,” I say.
He chuckles but can’t quite conceal the edge. “Yeah, she likesallthe men.”
I straighten. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say slowly.
Xavier’s head is moving between us like he’s watching a ping pong match.
Jez puts up his hand. “Nothing. God, what is thematterwith you today? Taking offence and acting like a bloody twat.” He turns to Xavier. “He’s far too sentimental.”
“Is there such a thing?” Xavier asks.
Jez ignores him, intent on getting his story out. “Monique used to send books to Reuben, and after reading them, he could have traded them for anything, because the school library was dreadful, but he wouldn’t ever consider a trade.”
Xavier looks at me. “Why?”
I shrug. “Because they were a gift from her and I love her, so I didn’t want to cheapen the gift by giving them away. Probably ridiculous, because she wouldn’t have minded. She’s never cared about things like that.”
“She had enough money not to,” Jez says idly. “She had the old man wrapped around her finger.”
“Jez,” I say softly.
“She was the mistress of a married billionaire,” Jez continues, ignoring me. His voice has taken on the spiteful edgewhich I’ve heard more and more lately. “He bought her the house in the South of France where Reuben grew up. The old man left her a lot of money, too. Reuben will be rich when she dies.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say immediately. “It’s not my business what Monique does with that money and it’s certainly not yours. Jean loved her because she’s amazing.”
“You didn’t mind that he was married?” Xavier asks curiously.
I immediately shake my head. “Nope. Not my business. Love and happiness are so rare in this world. Who am I to begrudge pleasure?”
His eyes shine as he looks at me, as if I’ve done something amazing, and I wonder which of my ridiculous statements has pleased him.
“Ready to go?” Jez prompts.
I nod. “I’ll catch you up in a second.”
“Don’t be long. Come on, Xavier.”
Xavier trails behind him, offering me a liquid look of interest. “Go,” I say, making a shooing motion.
When they’ve disappeared, I step out of the way of customers and lean against a wall, needing a moment to stand quietly. Jez’s demands about scheduling work replay in my head. Returning to Afghanistan had seemed a distant prospect last week, but the reality is a matter of days. I take a deep breath and finally admit the truth. The thought of my job doesn’t excite me anymore. It just leaves me feeling wary and worried and besieged by fractured images of deserted villages, crying women, and dead bodies. I shove my shaking hands into my pockets.
