‘When was the last time you sang in front of someone?’ Soli asked, to fill the silence.
‘Never,’ he said with a shake of his head.
‘Really? Never?’
‘I’m not really into performing,’ he said with finality to his tone.
‘Oh. Okay, then,’ she said, recognising his need to move on.
‘How about this: if you could choose one ability that you don’t already have, what would it be?’
‘To predict the future,’ he said with confidence.
Soli thought this was interesting. It clearly pointed to a need for complete control.
‘What are you most grateful for?’
He paused infinitesimally before replying, ‘My health, wealth and happiness.’
Glib, but okay.
‘What would you never joke about?’
‘Money.’ There was no pause before that answer.
‘Is there something you’ve always dreamt of doing but have never got round to? Tell me about it, then tell me why you haven’t done it yet.’
‘Hmm.’ This gave him pause. ‘I think I’m doing what I dreamt of. I wanted to run my own company and live in this house.’
‘Okay. Well… well done,’ she said with a smile. ‘What’s your biggest accomplishment?’
‘Same answer. My company and finding a way to live in this house.’ He looked particularly pleased with himself for that answer.
‘Tell me about a happy memory from your school days.’
Suddenly the buoyant atmosphere seemed to drop like a stone.
‘I can’t think of one right now,’ he said tersely, his gaze skimming away from hers now.
There was something heartbreakingly raw about the way he said this, but she didn’t press it. From the way his shoulders had stiffened she got the impression he’d happily call an end to the session if she did and that was the last thing she wanted when he was finally starting to open up to her a little.
‘What has been your most embarrassing moment?’ she asked with a smile, hoping to flip the mood, but was a little taken aback to see the expression in his eyes harden at this. ‘It can be something really silly,’ she added quickly, desperately trying to rescue the lightness they’d had previously.
‘Pass. I can’t think of anything right now,’ he said again, his tone warning her not to push it. Clearly, she was treading on dodgy ground.
Okay. She could come back to that another time. She didn’t want to ruin the progress they’d made. But something still pushed her to ask the next question anyway.
‘What’s your relationship with your mother like now you’re grown up?’
The light went out of his eyes. She realised with a shiver of disappointment that she’d blown it and that he’d probably clam up completely now, but to her surprise he didn’t. Instead, he hooked an arm across the back of the sofa again and looked directly into her eyes as if actively deciding not to dodge her interest in the question any more. Perhaps he was hoping she’d leave him alone if he finally gave her an answer to it.
‘I don’t really know her, to be honest. We have very little contact these days. She’s not exactly the maternal type. I think she fell pregnant with me by accident – at least, that’s what I overheard one day when my great-aunt and a friend of hers were chatting. Apparently, my father convinced her to keep me, but she and I never really bonded. Not that my relationship with my father was much better. He was always being sent away overseas with work. He was a foreign diplomat. My mother often went with him, but they kept me here in England at boarding school. It was for my own good, apparently, so I wouldn’t feel unsettled.’
From the expression on his face she gleaned that it had actually had the opposite effect. No wonder he was so attached to this house. It seemed to be the only place he’d ever felt secure. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been not to be allowed to live with your family. There were so many good memories from her own childhood, she’d be devastated not to have had the opportunity to experience them. Some of them were only snatched, random moments in her memory, but they still held so much meaning for her. They’d helped her grow and form as a person, and the knowledge that she’d be able to come home to her family and a safe, loving environment every day after school had kept her going through her most taxing years.
‘I suspect it was really because they thought I’d cramp their style if I was living with them,’ Xavier went on, his eyes taking on a faraway, troubled look now. ‘They were always big socialisers, according to my great-aunt…’ He paused, as if weighing up whether he wanted to say the next thing out loud, obviously deciding that he did when he added, ‘And not exactly faithful to each other.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been really unsettling for you,’ she said quietly.
