Page 91 of People Skills

‘I hope it isn’t clothing. That will depress me.’

‘It’s not.’

‘It better not be anything for the baby.’

‘It’s for you.’

She opens it. It’s a large expensive-looking ceramic mug and some fancy tea. She considers it for a long moment.

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I guess this is me now. Chocolates and tea. Presents you would give someone in a retirement home. Or an invalid.’

‘You told me you were drinking a lot of tea,’ Xavier says, looking nervous.

‘Because I can’t have coffee.’

‘I’ll return it.’

‘No. I love it.’ She hugs the cup to her body and looks up at him, tenderly. ‘I do love it. Thank you. It was thoughtful.’

‘So was mine,’ James says.

‘You gave me cash.’

‘To buy anything your heart wants.’

I take this moment to slip outside.

‘Charlotte, you remember Graham. And this is Lana,’ Hillary says.

Lana turns to me, smiling. Her short dark hair is tucked behind her ears and she’s wearing a white linen shirt dress that is almost short enough to be just a shirt. She has little gold hoops in her ears and many thin gold rings stacked on her fingers.

Everything about her is tiny and delicate.

‘Hi Charlotte,’ she says, smiling warmly and giving me her full attention.

‘Hi Lana,’ I say. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ she says.

I want to be back in the safety of the group, where Hillary has resumed telling a story, but Lana is still turned towards me.

‘So you’re living with Xavier?’ she says, her voice lower, the conversation just between us. She’s still smiling warmly, and her tone is open.

‘Yes,’ I say. My heart is beating danger, danger, but I’m keeping my own tone equally warm and open.

‘How is that going?’ she says.

‘Good,’ I say, too brightly. Good sounds too suggestive, too positive. She could read into good. ‘I mean, it’s fine. We don’t see that much of each other.’ An absurd lie that I wish I could take back the minute it’s out of my mouth.

‘So Hillary facilitated it? The living together?’ She is keeping her tone warm and friendly, but I can see the tension in her hand gripping the wine glass, her sharp eyes watching me carefully.

‘Sort of,’ I smile vaguely. My hands are sweating. Why do I feel like I am about to be caught out in something? I have done nothing wrong. Xavier is single, and outside of one very minor, inconsequential drunken kiss, nothing has happened between us.

I am an innocent bystander, I want to say, to get ahead of whatever she’s thinking. I am nothing, I am nobody. I’m not special. You don’t need to worry about me.

‘She said you’re helping him with his writing?’ Lana says as if it’s a question, and there it is. She’s not worried about us hooking up, she’s worried about this part.

‘Just as a fun thing,’ I say, laughing a little. I sound like a maniac.