‘Then maybe we don’t have to be sex acquaintances.’ Jean puts her glass down and presses both hands against her knees, concealing their tremor. ‘We could be two people out for a meal together, enjoying each other’s company. Just for tonight.’
Ava’s brow furrows. And Jean doesn’t rush her, recognising that need to deliberate before speaking, though with every passing second she feels more foolish. There are plenty of people in Ava’s life, many more closely matched to her in age and background than Jean. But then, if Ava wanted, she could be sitting here right now with any one of them.
‘Like… friends?’ Ava speaks gingerly, as if testing the word out. And it doesn’t spook Jean. If anything, it warms her more than the wine.
‘Friends,’ Jean confirms. ‘For tonight.’
Ava doesn’t push any further. She launches into an update, curls vibrating with excitement as she reveals thattheKelani Griffith has agreed to sit on her board. ‘I mean, she revolutionised the way discrimination law is understood, not just in the UK but across the world. Kelani was part of the reason I decided to study law in the first place. I still can’t believe she said yes.’
‘I can.’ While she’s amassed an international following, Kelani has remained true to the principles that propelled her into the spotlight. No doubt she sees a kindred spirit in Ava.
‘It’s all coming together.’ Ava shakes her head, as if astounded by her own success. ‘And Judith found the perfect space in Brixton – between the grant and what I have saved, we’ll just about make it work.’
The waitress returns then, and they scan the forgotten menus. Jean orders the salmon fillet, Ava the butternut squash. And it’s easy losing herself in good food and better conversation. Ava’s excitement is infectious as she goes over her plans for the next six months. Jean interjects with the odd pointer, relaxes into laughter, and basks in the simple pleasure of being the person Ava shares her hopes and dreams with.
But Ava doesn’t dominate the conversation. She asks perceptive questions about Jean’s work, and DDH. Though Jean is scrupulous in avoiding names, and Ava makes no attempts to probe beyond the veil of confidentiality, it’s easy enough to convey the urgency of the office and the scope of opportunity ahead.
None of it sparks the same fervent excitement that Ava had demonstrated over the CJC, but then Jean has been at it for decades longer, and novelty always lends its own unique thrill. Representing the interests of Hephaestia, taking point as Peter contemplates retirement, it’s not so much a new goal as the final stretch in a marathon Jean had mapped out for herself years ago. The high of satisfaction will surely come when Jean crosses the finish line and secures the ultimate promotion, presiding over the firm for the rest of her life – unlike Peter, she has no intention of retiring.
Still, Ava listens closely. And Jean doesn’t shy away from the mundanity of her world outside DDH, certain it will deter feelings neither of them can afford. But Ava is delighted by the revelation of Jean’s sessions with Grant.
‘Oh my god, your personal trainer’s a gym twink!’ Ava drops her fork, laughing too much to eat without serious risk of choking. ‘That’s priceless.’
‘What on earth is a twink?’
This question only sets off a fresh wave of giggles. ‘A young gay guy, on the camp end of the spectrum. I just find it pretty funny.’
It’s all going well, until she mentions dinner with Bernard; the pleasure of catching up with an old friend. The laughter between them is snuffed out in an instant, Ava’s face a blank mask.
‘You remember him, don’t you? From the Knowledge Exchange workshop.’
‘I do.’
There’s a curtness to the response that Jean can’t make head nor tail of. ‘I thought you liked him. Bernard was the one who organised the tickets as a prize.’
‘He seems like a really great guy.’ Ava drives her spoon down hard enough to shatter the crust of her crème brûlée.
‘Then why are you acting like you wish you could drive that spoon into his skull?’
Ava takes a breath, gaze fixed upon her napkin. In a quiet voice she says: ‘I don’t think you want to do this here.’
But Jean is out of patience. In the final months of her marriage, she’d endured enough of this unspoken discord to last a lifetime. She scans the surrounding tables – there’s not a single face she recognises, and all the other diners are intent on their own candlelit meals. Still Jean doesn’t understand it, how quickly the air in their own little bubble has shifted. ‘No – we’re doing this here and now.’ Jean leans forward, pushing her pistachio ice cream aside. ‘Tell me what’s going on with you rather than subjecting me to passive aggression.’
‘You really want to know?’
‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’
‘What you say and what you do aren’t always…’ Ava shakes her head, curls bouncing around her collar. ‘Fine, but you don’t get to act pressed when I tell you.’
‘How can I know what my reaction will be until you’ve said your piece?’
Ava simply stares, unyielding.
‘Alright. Whatever it is, I’ll give you a fair hearing.’
Ava nods slowly, pressing her lips together. In the background Edith Piaf warbles about unlikely dreams. ‘I saw how Bernard looked at you. He was thrilled when you asked him out for dinner.’
Incredulous laughter spills from Jean’s mouth. That Ava should be jealous of Bernard… It’s clear she doesn’t see the funny side, though, looking anywhere except at Jean. ‘But I wasn’t asking him out; not in the way you’re suggesting.’
