‘No. Your sister was more of a cocktail girl. A high-maintenance woman, really.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ana, ‘I can imagine.’
‘And your sister was a real loudmouth, too. Like Lol. Can you imagine it? When the two of them got together?’ He winced and they both laughed. And then they both stopped laughing and fell into a sad silence. Flint cleared his throat. ‘So,’ he said. ‘What sort of things have you been up to with Lol? In London?’
‘Oh. We’ve been to a couple of bars. In Ladbroke Grove.’
‘What – like, poncey places you mean?’
‘Well – not really. Just sort of – fashionable places, I guess.’
‘Yeah. I know the sorts of places you mean. All scabby second-hand furniture and rank canals.’
‘Yeah,’ smiled Ana, ‘something like that.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, Ana – those sorts of places don’t seem very – you. I mean, from the look of you – you’re more of a pub girl, aren’t you?’
Ana smiled. ‘I’ll try to take that as a compliment,’ she said.
‘You want to come out with me one night, when we’re back in London. I’ll take you to some proper London places. There are some amazing pubs in London. And some of the best beer. You’ve seen a bit of Lol’s London – I want to show you a bit of mine.’
‘Yes,’ Ana said, shyly, ‘that would be nice. Thank you.’
Flint eyed her as she picked up her pint and took another sip. He’d enjoyed this little sojourn at the seaside with Ana. It was nice to get away from the indefatigable Lolfor a while. Lol was great but she was also one of those people who didn’t leave any room in a situation for your own interpretation of things. You always got Lol’s version whether you wanted it or not. But with Ana, he’d been able to absorb the odd English seaside atmosphere, the sunset, the smells and sounds. Like being on his own, but with someone.
And there was something about her, he thought, but he found it impossible to put his finger on it. She was quite posh. But notposhposh, not public school and fine blonde hair and skiing-tan posh. Not the sort of posh that he usually liked. Just a sort of low-key, middle-class, slightly hippified posh. And it wasn’t really about her looks. It wasn’t about what she had, as such, but about what shedidn’thave. Like experience. Like sophistication. Like a sense of herself. Like the way she’d blushed just now when he’d suggested this drink. He’d almost been able to see her thoughts through her eyes – ‘If I walk into a pub with you, we’ll have to have a conversation, and that means I’ll have to reveal myself to you, and that makes me very nervous.’ She didn’t give anything away and, in a world full of people prepared to bare their souls at the drop of a hat, she was coolly refreshing.
Flint had lived in London for most his life. Born and bred in Enfield, he now lived in Turnpike Lane. All his life he’d only known London girls or girls who’d chosen London for what it could offer them. But Ana hadn’t chosen London. She was here because of circumstance, not because of ambition or greed or thrill-seeking.
‘Have you ever thought about living in London, Ana? Leaving Devon?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Never.’
‘God, you know – call me small-minded, but I really can’t understand that.’
‘What?’
‘Living in a small town and not being fucking desperate to get away. I mean – what exactly is the attraction?’
Ana shrugged. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘What do you do?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘In Devon? Who do you live with? What do you do for a living? Who are your friends? Boyfriend? You know – tell me about your life.’
Ana smiled wryly and took another slurp of beer. ‘You don’t want to know,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I do.’
‘Well,’ she began, smiling with embarrassment, ‘I used to have a life. Quite a nice life, actually.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Uh-huh. I had this really nice flat in Exeter. And a job.’
‘Doing what?’