Tom settled into his course to achieve a diploma in professional cookery and Luc did a course at the London Institute of Photography and went back to working as a motorbike courier in any free time he had. They found an apartment in the heart of London to share and quickly found a favourite traditional English pub that was about halfway between their place and where Sophie and Hannah lived. Meeting for a bottle of wine and some pub grub, like bangers and mash or fish and chips, became a highlight of their weekly routines.
If Tom had been even remotely serious about his intention to marry Sophie, he was taking it slowly and that was fine by her. This was all about building a genuine friendship between all four of them, and the discussions, with the flicker of flames from the open fire catching on the gilded mirrors advertising classic ales, numerous copper pots and the lovingly polished antique horse brasses, could become lively. Heated, even, but tempered with enough laughter to allow a bond to form around them all like a solid circle. And, okay… there were the odd awkward moments when a silence fell and the wariness between Sophie and Luc was obvious but they found a way to hide that. To make a game of it, even.
It became a competition to see who could break a silence like that with the signal of a verbal bell, followed by the most controversial statement they could think of. A playful, no-holds-barred debate that became something special because it belonged to just the four of them.
Luc’s tongue-in-cheek declaration that pineapple could elevate pizza to gourmet status made for a memorably amusing evening as it degenerated into inventing the most disgusting pizza topping combinations they could imagine.
Sophie’s choice of the superiority of cats over dogs didn’t really get off the ground, which was a little embarrassing. She resolved to think up a more intellectual statement for a future occasion.
Tom’s assertion that socks with sandals was a fashion statement and not a crime also didn’t provide a topic worthy of deep thought but he didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the derisive hoots from his sister and best friend. He just winked at Sophie and she knew he was trying to make her feel better about her juvenile ‘cats and dogs’ offering.
‘Ding ding…’ It was Hannah who broke the silence that evening. ‘Money is the root of all evil.’
Luc gave an incredulous huff of sound, his glass pausing mid-air. ‘And who made that handbag of yours? Louis Vuitton or Gucci?’
‘Hermès,’ Hannah admitted. ‘But it came from a vintage shop.’
‘Could be considered recycling,’ Sophie added, earning a wink from Tom.
‘Money can’t be evil,’ he offered. ‘It’s neither good nor bad. It depends on how it’s used. Money is only a tool.’
Luc’s voice was quiet enough for it to be hard to hear against the background of a popular Friday-night watering hole. ‘It can only be a tool if you have enough of it,’ he said. ‘If you don’t, you fight for everything.’
‘That’s true,’ Sophie agreed. ‘There’s a tipping point before you can even have the luxury of deciding whether or not it’s evil. On one end of that spectrum, it’s purely survival. At the other end, when people are sitting on gold-plated toilets, it becomes obscene.’
Hannah was shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t have to get that far along the spectrum to become problematic. I’m talking about people likeus.’
‘People whose trust funds provide more than most people earn?’ It was Luc’s turn to shake his head. ‘Excuse me, I think I’m at the wrong table.’
‘Me too.’ But Sophie was smiling. Hannah’s wealth had never been allowed to become an issue in their friendship.
Hannah’s next words were slurred enough to suggest she had probably had too much wine already. ‘If you have too much of it, it makes life too easy,’ she said. ‘How can you find out who you really are or what you really want if you can do or buy anything that you happen to fancy?’
Tom was frowning. ‘You could give your money to charity if it would make you happier, you know.’
‘That would make me feel like a humanATM.’ Her voice rose and became a plea that couldn’t be dismissed. ‘I want something I’m passionate about. Like you guys all have. You’ve found your passion in food, Tom, and Luc’s going to be a world-renowned photographer. And look at Sophie – she’s passionate about heaps of things.’
Sophie could feel her cheeks going pink as the gaze of both the men on the opposite side of the table rested on her.
‘What sort of things?’ Tom asked, with genuine interest.
‘Gardens,’ Hannah told him. ‘Flowers and plants and trees. Books. The history of the entireworld.’
‘Really?’ Luc’s single raised eyebrow could have been sarcastic. ‘Theentireworld?’
Tom had clearly caught the note of something like panic in his sister’s voice. ‘What about clothes?’ he suggested. ‘You’re good at clothes. You always look amazing.’
‘I’m good atwearingclothes. And buying them. It’s the people who design and make them that have the passion.’
‘Dancing, then. You love dancing.’
‘I don’t love it enough to spend twelve hours a day getting good enough to do it for a career or be a teacher.’
Sophie felt shut out of what was becoming a rapid back and forth between brother and sister based on the shared reality of knowing they would always be financially safe. Luc felt just as excluded, judging by the expression on his face. She might have had a more comfortable, middle-class kind of upbringing than he’d had but they were both making their own way in the world as adults and had far more awareness of how much power money could either bestow or steal. They also both had best friends who came from a ridiculously wealthy background.
It felt like a bond.
One that was being formed by a chemical reaction creating a heat like nothing Sophie had ever felt before. The coals were right in the core of her body, in the same place she’d felt that strange somersault of sensation the first night they’d met, but the flickers of this heat were travelling at the speed of light, far enough to make both the tips of her toes and her scalp tingle.
