‘Long story,’ Fin says, after a pause, in a way that says not now.
I don’t know what else to say.
‘Sorry, you did ask about the Zoolander years, and here we are. This is why I usually don’t want to talk about myself,’ he says, face drawn again.
The starters arrive.
For the first time I wonder properly if the ballad of Finlay Hart is a story of his being done wrong. It’s seductive, especially when he’s sitting opposite with rolled-up sleeves and those forearms in this lighting, but my instincts still rebel against it. It was three votes against his one, and I’ve seen for myself how icy he can be.
‘Fair enough. Susie always said you were a lot, when you were younger,’ I say this in a throwaway, rather than accusatory way. ‘That’s all. But I’m ignorant on this, compared to you, obviously. I only had her side.’
‘I was a lot,’ Fin says, dully, spearing a cornichon with his fork. ‘Or I got that way. She wasn’t making everything up. It was more what she left out. How’s your terrine, is it good?’
I have a mouthful of it so have to do a one-handed thumbs up.
‘What did she leave out?’ I say, after swallowing.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Fin says, as if he hasn’t heard me. ‘You knew my sister very well? The best of all, I think it’s fair to say.’
I nod.
‘How do you think she’d have acted, had I died? How do you think – if she’d flown to Manhattan to sort the funeral and walked into a room of my friends who, if not hostile, had negative preconceptions of her, given the bad terms we were on – she’d have handled it?’
‘Uhm …’ I’m glad of the wine. I take a stiffening swig. ‘She would’ve … she’d have been Susie, I guess. Irreverent and tough. She’d have …’ Oh, this is tricky, wanting to honour truthfulness while not being offensive. ‘She’d have probably said it would’ve felt different if you two were closer.’
To put it mildly.
Finlay nods. ‘Yes. Exactly. She’d have assumed my friends were the enemy, informed them of her rights, shed few tears about me, and got the hell out. My friends would have thought she was, how did you put it? A lot.’
He goes back to his rillettes. His point’s been made decisively yet effortlessly.
It’s not like me to be at a loss for words.
How had I not seen this? How had I, someone who prides herself on thinking hard on things and being a sharp judge of character, never seen Finlay and Susie were, in fact, very alike?
31
Aware things have got heavier than we want them to be, we manage to steer back to discussing the joys of life in Brooklyn and matching it to my scant touristy knowledge. I tell him about Mark’s job in San Francisco to try to sound like more of an internationalist, hoping I’m eloquent enough that he doesn’t notice I’m piggybacking on my ex boyfriend’s accomplishments.
As we decide we’re having cheese board instead of dessert, another diner interrupts us.
‘Excuse me …’ says a woman with grey hair in a bun.
‘Beverley, don’t!’ says a well-spoken man standing behind her. ‘Leave them in peace.’
‘I want to let you know, you’re the loveliest couple I think I’ve ever seen,’ she puts a palm to her chest in am-dram swoon. I suddenly remember the girls at school and the smudged biro initials ‘FH’ on exercise books.
‘Really …?’ we both say, simultaneously, looking at each other in surprise.
Although I’m sure my surprise is the greatest. I’m not anything like an equal to Fin aesthetically, I don’t think, all false modesty aside. Shows what sitting opposite him can do. Like when film crews hold up reflectors.
‘I’ve enjoyed watching you.’ She leans down and squeezes my arm, resting on the table. ‘Have a long and happy life together, won’t you. For me.’
She picks up my left hand, sees the ring finger is ringless.
‘Ask her, you fool!’ she stage-hisses to Fin.
‘Forgive my wife, she’s had a lot of Bordeaux,’ says the man, and we laugh, and they leave.
An awkward pause ensues.
‘OK, since Bev’s brought it up, we can’t avoid it any longer. Will you marry me?’ Fin says. ‘We don’t know each other but we can’t make a worse mess than most people who do get to know each other first, right?’
‘Since you put it like that.’
I laugh gratefully, and we clink glasses. I initially took his words as