“Oh my god. What did you study? Was it nice? Was it as glamorous as the films and books make it out to be?”
“You do seem to specialise in questioning in bulk.”
“I have to get them all out before you change your mind.”
He shrugs. “I studied History of Art. I suppose it was glamorous, but I didn’t notice. It was a university with all the bad and good that the word entails.”
“What did you want to do when you left university?”
He runs his finger down the wine bottle, making tracks in the condensation. His expression is very distant. “I wanted to be an artist, but I was absolutely terrible. I still loved the art world, so I considered curating at a museum or owning a gallery.”
I can see him in those jobs. He observes things carefully and has a sharp mind for detail. I’m familiar with how passionate he can be, although that’s all been in the bedroom. Still, his choice of degree is very understandable. “But instead, you run your godfather’s business?”
“Yes. I swapped art for capitalism.”
“Do you regret it?”
I hold my breath because that was a bit too personal. Is he going to shut this down? To my surprise, he just shakes his head and answers me. “No. Louis was very good to me in his own way. This is my way of paying the debt.”
I’m not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing, but just as I open my mouth to ask, he says rather diffidently, “What subject did you take at university?”
“I’m sorry. Did you just ask me aquestion?” I say in mock astonishment.
“I’m just having a brief rest from your thumbscrews.”
I laugh. “I took accountancy.”
There’s a brief, stunned silence. “I beg your pardon?”
“Accountancy,” I say slowly, lingering over the consonants and talking in an overly loud voice.
“Oh, shut up.” I snort, and he shakes his head. “That is the last degree I would have expected.”
“Didn’t you notice when you cleaned away all my papers and textbooks?”
“No, I just stacked everything neatly. I was too busy being appalled at your eating habits and the fact that you had consumed enough energy drinks to power a nuclear reactor.” He takes a sip of his wine.
“So, what would you have thought I’d taken?”
“A BA in idiocy.”
“Try again.”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure. Maybe teacher training.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re very bossy but still caring.”
I sit back in my chair. “Notthatcaring. I couldn’t teach. No, I like figures.”
“Why?”
The waiter comes over with our first course, and my stomach rumbles. “What’s this?” I ask.
“Seared scallops with an orange beurre blanc.”
“Yummy.” The next few minutes are spent unwrapping cutlery and eating. The first bite of a scallop makes me groan. “Wow.”
