‘Oh, um...’ She looks surprised, but not horrified, by the offer. ‘Are you having a drink?’
‘Yes, why not?’ He’s aware that his booze consumption has crept up since Kate’s departure. He’s found himself having lunchtime and evenbreakfastbeers just to get those creative juices flowing. But this is fine, this is evening, and so he pulls a bottle of red from ‘the cupboard where we keep the wine’, as Kate had snapped during their party.
He pours two large glasses and hands one to Agata, trying to ignore Jarvis giving him the side-eye from his basket in the corner of the kitchen.
‘Thanks.’ She grins at him. ‘Why not, eh?’
‘Why not indeed?’ he says, cringing at his choice of words. He’s speaking like a louche game show host. ‘Anyway,’ he adds quickly, ‘shall we go through?’
‘Sure,’ she says brightly, following him through to the living room where they settle on the sofa, clutching their wines.
‘So, how’s the book going?’ Agata asks. There it is again; that cheeky look in her eyes that’s never been apparent until today.
‘It’s, uh... coming along.’ He forms a grim smile, then laughs. ‘Actually, I’ve been having a bit of trouble with it. Deadline came and went months ago...’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘But, y’know, in the grand scheme of things it’s no big deal. The world won’t end, will it?’
‘’Course it won’t,’ Agata says. ‘Have your publishers been hassling you?’
‘No, not at all. They’re pretty cool,’ he says blithely.
‘That’s because you’re their star author,’ she asserts. ‘They know you won’t do your best work under pressure.’
Vince looks at her as if she’s just said something miraculous. It’s not as if she’s going to write his book for him on top of constructing the shelving unit. Yet her clear-sightedness has caused a jolt of realisation in him, like someone striking a bell in his head. Of course, it’s not that Zoe doesn’t give a fuck about his stupid book. She said he can take all the time he likes – simply so he can produce his very best work.
‘That makes sense,’ Vince says, nodding.
‘When’s it actually coming out?’
‘Next summer,’ he replies.
‘There’ll be loads of wiggle room then,’ she says confidently. Vince sips his wine, believing now that this gamine woman was beamed into his bungalow with her dainty tool set to save him. Is this what Edie means when she goes on about talking therapy? He certainly feels a lot better now.
‘This is lovely wine,’ she remarks.
‘It’s the bottle Lenny brought round for our party,’ he admits. ‘I gave our guests the cheap stuff.’
She laughs. ‘He’s always had good taste in wine. And I think the situation deserves it, don’t you?’
‘Does it?’ he asks, a little confused.
‘Well, yes! Your shelf unit’s built and you’ve realised your publishers don’t hate you because you’re late...’
Christ, does Agata know what he’s been thinking? Can sheseehis inner fears dancing around inside his head? It would seem so, because now, as they drink their wine and he refills their glasses, she’s pulled off those strap-and-button shoes and curled up on the sofa with her feet tucked under her tiny bottom, and is saying, ‘Vince, I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up. Please say if I’m being nosy or out of order because I really don’t want to pry or anything...’ She breaks off and looks at him. Vince knows what’s coming next. Curiously, he doesn’t mind because he needs to get everything out there, off his chest.
‘Go ahead,’ he says lightly.
‘Well...’ Her mouth twists. ‘That night at Deborah’s dinner party. The way you turned on Colin...’
‘I’m really ashamed of that,’ he murmurs.
‘Yes, but what I wanted to say is, I understand why you did it. Everyone interrogating you like that, in public. It wasn’t fair. And since then it’s like you’ve been hiding away from us all...’
Vince nods. ‘Yeah, I s’pose I have really.’
‘I realise you’ve been putting on a brave face all this time,’ she continues, ‘but it’s awful what’s happened to you. And I wanted to say, you can talk to me, you know. About the whole thing, I mean. Because it’s not good for you to be all breezy and pretend you’re okay.’
