Page 39 of Audacity

‘So sorry to disturb,’ he says suavely. ‘I just wondered—are you two together? Because if not, I’d love to?—’

‘We’re together,’ I say in my bestdon’t even go therevoice, at the same time as Athena says, ‘I’m not interested.’

Her voice is polite but dismissive. She has no interest in him. She doesn’t seem tickled by the blatant play he’s making for her,but neither does she seem at all taken aback, and it makes me wonder quite how often she gets hit on.

‘Is that normal?’ I ask her once he’s backed away with a sheepish smile and an apology. ‘Do people really come onto other people like that, when they’re quite obviously at lunch with someone else?’

She shrugs. ‘You’d be surprised. It’s a jungle out there. Count yourself lucky you were free of that element for a few years.’

I suspect that little interlude has less to do with the jungle and more to do with Athena herself. I suspect if I were a different type of man and I saw her in a restaurant, I’d take one look at her and deem her worthy of breaking any sort of social codes to have a crack.

She really is that exquisite. She’s applied fresh scarlet lipstick that makes her mouth look like a beautifully wrapped present, and I know all too well what a gift it really is.

‘Anyway,I was just about to ask you if you’d done any financial damage since you came back over to the dark side, before we were so rudely interrupted.’

I consider. ‘I decorated a house. That was the biggest one. And I bought a Book of Hours.’

That has her attention. ‘Really? What kind?’

‘One from the Florentine Renaissance. I saw it in Sotheby’s and couldn’t resist. It’s really—well, it’s beautiful.’

‘I adore religious art,’ she confesses. ‘My parents did six months in Florence. It wasn’t long enough, and I was at uni, so I didn’t get enough time there. But I love that that was your big splurge.’

‘It’s at the office. You know the door next to my bathroom? It’s in there. I’ll show you when we get back.’

She leans forward, head tilted. ‘Do you actually use it for praying, or is it just because it’s beautiful?’

‘Both. It’s an exceptional work of art, but I’ve found I engage with it in a way that really enriches me, you know? There’s something about referring to a centuries-old source to help me pray. It feels, I don’t know…’

‘Elevating,’ she supplies, and I grin.

‘Exactly. It elevates the experience of praying to a whole different level. That’s one element of Catholicism I’ve always felt comfortable with, actually—the role of beauty in celebrating the glory of God.’

Her face is interested, open, as I speak.

‘So your faith is very much intact. You haven’t thrown out all your old beliefs—just your vocation itself.’

‘Very much so, yes.’

‘I was curious. Because you hired me, obviously. So there’s a conflict there. Is that a fair assumption?’

‘That’s correct,’ I tell her. ‘And, if you can believe this, the conflict comes less from hiring you, in particular, and more from navigating this intensely secular lifestyle in general. Hence, the Book of Hours acts like an anchor. It helps to tether me to what’s important. It allows me to tend to my spiritual health.’

She says nothing as we’re served our food, but I can practically see that extraordinary brain of hers whirring.

‘What is it?’ I ask with a smile.

‘I have an observation,’ she admits, ‘but I can’t think of a way of asking it without it being incredibly insulting.’

‘Well, now you have to ask it. I’m intrigued.’

She hesitates, which I suspect is unlike her, and sets down her soup spoon. ‘I realise your family is Irish, so Catholicism was deemed normal for you, but you’re obviously an extremely cerebral man, and I can’t for the life of me work out how you’ve fallen for the whole organised religion thing. From where I’m sitting, it’s quite obviously a construct, an exercise in mind control. I mean, it’s so ridiculously over-engineered! I just can’tsquare your intellect with a faith so strong that you gave up everything to serve it.’

She sits back, as if the conundrum of my belief system has actually defeated her fierce, presumably atheistic, brain, and I grin.

‘The entire answer to your question, Athena, lies in your use of the wordfaith.’

‘Yes, but, it’s so far-fetched. Why not give the gift of your faith—and your service, for that matter—to something more deserving?’

---