‘What’s the problem, Alix?’ he asked after a moment or two. He leant towards me. ‘Don’t you like me? I have to say that’s not the impression you gave me last Sunday on our date together, so I’d like you to tell me if I’m wrong.’
‘Very well,’ I said slowly. ‘If you want me to be frank, I thought you were very unpleasant to Caroline at the Christmas Day lunch, rather spiteful in fact.’
He sat back, looking taken aback. ‘Is Caroline a big friend of yours or something?’
‘No, of course not, I barely know her, but that didn’t stop me finding your behaviour towards her rather… well… rather bullying.’
A waiter bustled up at that moment, brandishing menus. ‘Omelette et salade, s’il vous plaît,’ I said before he could speak. With a slight hesitation, Jules ordered the same – in better French. The waiter bouncing on his way, I looked at Jules. He seemed unmoved by what I had said.
‘Caroline can take it,’ he said diffidently. ‘I’ve known her a long time.’
‘Fair enough. If you’re happy with how you behaved, so be it. I have to say I personally didn’t find it very attractive, but maybe that doesn’t bother you either.’
He pondered this, chewing his cheek. ‘No, it does,’ he said after a pause. ‘So I apologise.’
‘It’s not me who deserves an apology.’
Then he smiled at me, one of his practised, charming smiles.
‘Come on, Alix. Let’s forget Caroline for now. I’ve said I’m sorry. Please, I want to see you wearing your necklace.’ Seizing the box, he opened it and, before I could protest, jumped to his feet to edge round the table. ‘Let me put it on you.’
This caused two problems. In the first place, having taken off my jacket, I was wearing with my jeans an ancient Breton-style top in washed-out lilac stripes. It was serviceable and once upon a time had been recognisably Boden but was not in any sense quite the style to flatter a brutalist necklace. In the second, the café was rammed, both with tables and customers occupying those tables. This meant that to reach my neck, Jules had to sidle and squirm his way through the constricted gap between us and the neighbouring table with the result that my face ended up in uncomfortable proximity to his gonads – in tight trousers.
‘There!’ he exclaimed with satisfaction, regaining his chair – with difficulty. ‘It looks absolutely stunning on you. So beautiful, simply awe-inspiring!’
‘Oh, dial it back, buster,’ I muttered at the same timeas surreptitiously trying to free a strand of hair from the back of my neck where it had caught agonizingly in the clasp.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Nothing. Thank you,’ I said brightly, straightening my neck, which felt suddenly as though it was encased in a dog collar, one of those huge, studded collars worn by pit bull terriers called Rambo. From the way she was gawping at me, a woman on the next table evidently thought the same.
The food arrived.
‘Perhaps,’ Jules began, swallowing a mouthful of omelette, ‘I should explain something to you – about Luc. We’re very good friends, you know?’
‘I had gathered that.’
‘We’ve known each other since university. We are like brothers, you might say. And that is precisely why…’ He broke off and stroked his chin.
‘Why what?’
‘Why I am trying to stop him making a mistake. Why I was… unpleasant, as you say, to Caroline.’
I ate some salad. ‘Sorry. Don’t follow you.’
Jules put his knife down. ‘I was trying to show him what Caroline really is. As I said, I have known her many years. Therefore I know she is not right for Luc.’
‘Surely that’s a matter for him?’
‘Of course, but he is influenced by her wealth.’ Jules made a pooh-poohing sound. ‘Of course, these things are not important when it comes to love, but Caroline is a very rich woman.’
‘Good for her,’ I said shortly. ‘However, little as Iknow him, I can’t believe Luc is someone who would be seduced by the prospect of money.’
‘But as you say, you don’t know him well. Or his… situation.’ Jules regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You see, Alix, there is something more. Luc has made the same mistake before.’
‘What?’ I almost laughed. ‘Are you saying he makes a habit of being seduced by rich women?’
‘No, no.’ Jules shook his head. ‘I mean his late wife. I mean Esther.’
