‘No, but thanks for coming, Claude. No one else has.’
‘Naomi’s banned it.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ She gave me a weak smile. ‘But you’re still here.’
I stayed with her a while, reluctant to leave now I’d seen the state she was in. I coaxed her into drinking some water, helped her to the bathroom when she had to throw most of it back up, then sat with her until she drifted off to sleep: watching theblackness outside with half my mind, still thinking about the attic upstairs with the other. When I did finally leave, I had to race down to the dining room, a quarter hour late for Ana’s welcome dinner.
‘You won’t stay her favourite if you keep this up,’ whispered Nick, as I slipped into the seat beside him, midway through Ana’s speech.
‘I’m not her favourite,’ I whispered back.
At which Felix, opposite, opened his mouth, as though to chime in, then promptly shut it again: remembering, all too clearly, that the way he’s decided to convince Nick of how innocent everything between us in Sicily was, is to ignore me entirely.
I understood him taking that line during rehearsals. He and Nick are old friends too – they flat-shared when they were both starting out – and those photos were still everywhere, back then. But it’s November now, the press has mostly moved on, and I’ve been really hoping we could, too. Counting on it, actually. We’ve grown up in this industry together. I can hardly remember what it was like being in it without him, and ever sinceThe Go-BetweenI’ve taken it for granted that we’d always be in each other’s corner. In Sicily, before those photos broke, Felixwasin my corner: the best of co-stars on set, and the very best of friends off, never leaving me to my thoughts, but dragging me out for swims, and carafes of chilled wine, and bowls of pasta and gelati. It meanteverything.
Which only makes the way he’s behaving now hurt more.
It’s hideous being treated like you don’t matter, by someone who matters so much to you.
‘You’re being rude,’ I was upset and tired enough to tell him, when I cornered him as we left the dining room. ‘You possibly don’t care, you’ve made it pretty clear which friendship you’ve decided to prioritise, but can I remind you that you don’t actually need to cut me out. We never did anything wrong.’
He stared at me: blankly for a second.
Then, his swoon-worthy face moved in a frown.
I have no idea if he was planning on finally saying something.
If he was, I didn’t stick around to hear it.
Losing patience, I walked away, catching up with Nick, who’d gone on ahead and was looking back at us.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked, as I joined him.
For once, I couldn’t bring myself to pretend.
‘Not really,’ I said, and it was only when my voice shook that I realised how close I was to tears. ‘How is it for you?’
To which he replied with a deep sigh, and an arm around my shoulders, which might have been for my benefit, but could just as easily have been for Felix’s.
We undressed for bed silently once we got back to our room. I expected we’d get into bed that way, too. But, as I was coming out of the bathroom, Nick, in an armchair with his phone, reached out, pulling me to him.
‘Claude … ’ he said, and this time, it was his voice that cracked.
His face, turned up to me, was wretched.
‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed.
For a hideous moment, I genuinely feared he was about to admit that he hasn’t, in fact, been as true as he’s claimed.
I watched him draw breath, searching for the words.
Or maybe it was courage he was looking for, to say them.
Either way, he shook his head, and forced a smile. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’
I knew there was more to it.
I could have pushed it.
