“How did they change?”
“He had to develop superior complex and I became his first subject. In his eyes, anyway.”
Goldsmith’s eyes soften. “You’re tough.”
“I grew up with a boy who is going to be king. You learn to battle with an ego. Not that Lennox is a horrible person, but he has to have unwavering self-belief because of who he is.” It’s the most genuine I’ve been with Goldsmith, choosing which bones to bare.
“Do you defend him often?”
“He’s my brother.”
My loyalty is being tested. How far would I go for Lennox? I force myself to relax, sip my wine. Not to overanalyse.
“Do you have any siblings?”
Goldsmith smiles, takes a larger gulp of wine. “Not that I know of.”
He’s lying.
“Only child then?”
“Very much so. I think that Lennox and I have something in common; my father always wanted me to reclaim our throne, so to speak. His ambitions were for me to go into politics.”
“What would you have chosen to do then?”
There’s a laugh, it’s almost sarcastic. “Politics. I maybe had an ambition of being a motor racing driver when I was eight or so, but I was always into being the class representative and student council rep. What about you?”
“A jockey. Or horse trainer.”
He nods. Not really interested, I can tell.
“Do you enjoy sport?” I’m struggling here.
So’s he.
“Some. I play rugby sometimes and I’ve watched various events. Fortunately, I get tickets to some really decent events. I have seats at the New York Open Final if you’d like to join me?” He leans forward as if he’s just discovered the cure for ageing, the lightbulb almost visible above his head.
“You know, it’s something I’d love to see as it’s usually my mother who goes, but I’m struggling for any free time this month and I don’t think I’d be able to reschedule.”
He nods, although it’s a put down.
“Even for a couple of nights to see the finals? I can introduce you to some of the players. It would be great to give you that experience.”
Invisible insects crawl across my skin.
“I can check.” I force a smile. “If I can, I will. I’d love to watch the tennis in New York.”
“With me?”
I clawed at my imagination for what my mother would say. I don’t want to give him even a sniff of false hope, but other than a straight forward refusal, there’s nothing I don’t think he’d interpret.
“It would be good to see solidarity between our two countries at something like that, for sure. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it too.”
His eyes flicker with something, irritation maybe.
“I was hoping we could turn it into more of a date, so maybe it’s a little too soon to meet the parents?” His grin is wide. Forced.
There’s a flick of hair and the waitress comes to take our orders. I choose before Goldsmith can offer to order for me, something I hate.
