‘I don’t for a moment believe Georges Molyneux would do a thing to hurt you, but this doesn’t feel like the best time to split up,’ said James.
Olympe nodded.
Ada sipped her coffee. ‘Not everything is about your need to pull off a clever plan. Look what that’s already caused.’
She knew she was hurting Camille, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was caught up in the perverse need to pick off the entire scab, to squeeze the pus out.
‘I’m going. I can take care of myself.’
‘You’re not listening to us.’
‘I have listened. I don’t agree.’
Ada folded her arms. ‘So that’s how it is, is it? You’ve made a decision and the rest of us have to fall in line?’
‘Yes. That’s how it is.’
She rose, as if to get more coffee, then paused by Ada, speaking softly so only she could hear. ‘I’m not the only one who makes decisions on their own.’
Camille pulled out another piece of paper from her pocket.
Ada went cold. Her hand went to her own pocket and she felt the absence of the letter from her father.
‘Camille—’
‘Not here.’
They left James and Olympe with a half-hearted excuse and went down into the crypt.
‘You’re taking money from him?’ asked Camille at the same time as Ada said, ‘Please don’t be angry.’
‘Angry?Angry?’ hissed Camille. ‘Is that really all you think I’m feeling right now?’
‘No – I know – I’m sorry—’
‘You’re still seeing him, aren’t you?’
Ada swallowed, considering for a moment if there was any way she could deny it. Camille was livid. No, the damage was already done.
‘Yes. I am.’
Camille didn’t crumple or cry, if anything she became even tenser.
‘How long?’
‘I’ve never stopped seeing him.’
Camille recoiled.
‘You don’t understand! There’s only been the two of us since we came to Paris, he’s had only me for so long, I couldn’t walk away. It would have broken him.’
She reached for Camille’s hand, but she pulled away.
‘So you thought lying to me was better? You thought I wouldn’t understand?’
‘I didn’t want to hurt you – after what he did—’
‘I never asked you to stop seeing him.’
