Page 34 of Beautiful Losers

My pulse quickens at the reference to ‘our Leonard’.

‘She was the single mum he met on Hydra, right?’ I say, taking a tin of kidney beans and a jar of jalapeño peppers out of the bag.

‘That’s the one. Apparently, they were on and off for years. The relationship ultimately ended when they moved to New York.’

‘Yeah, well, I’d say it’s easy to be madly in love on a remote Greek island in the 1960s. There’s nothing like real life to bring you crashing back to reality.’

‘They always loved each other, though,’ says Jack. ‘Cohen wrote to Marianne when she was dying in hospital. Said he was so close behind her, he could touch her hand. He died four months later.’

‘That’s quite the romantic gesture, to literally follow someone to the grave.’

Jack takes a step towards me. I freeze, wondering for a brief second if he’s going to kiss me. He takes one of the bags and starts unpacking.

‘Marianne was asked about their relationship in an interview before she died. She said it was a gift to both of them,’ he says.

‘I didn’t have you down as a romantic.’

He stops what he’s doing, a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘I think … I think you don’t need to spend a lifetime with someone to be profoundly changed by them.’

He’s standing so close to me, I can see the static on his arm hair. The space between us feels charged, and I wonder if Jack can feel it too.

‘I like Leonard,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘This Leonard. He’s a pure soul. Reminds me of my dad a bit. Though my old man didn’t have the same gift for storytelling. Sorry, I have to ask, what are you making?’

He holds up a tin of anchovies.

‘You’re not eating in tonight, are you?’ I say, snatching the tin out of his hand. ‘You didn’t say anything at breakfast, so I assumed you had plans.’

‘Nope, no plans. Actually, I was going to offer to cook if you weren’t doing anything? I make a great mushroom risotto.’

I tilt my head to one side, assessing his suggestion. Why does it feel like more than a friendly request to share a meal? Myriam appears in the doorway, carrying Ari, his arms around her neck.

‘And of course, Myriam, if you’re around, I’d be delighted to cook for you too,’ says Jack.

‘Thanks, but I’m going out this evening.’ She places Ari on a chair, kissing the top of his head, and leaves the room. Ari rubs his eyes with his fists, looking around him. ‘Where’s Margaret?’

‘I don’t know, sweetheart. Have you checked the car?’ I say, opening a cupboard and placing the anchovies and peppers inside.

‘She wasn’t beside me when I woke up.’

‘She’s probably fallen on the floor. Go have a look.’

He scowls and stomps off.

‘He’s a nightmare when he first wakes up,’ I tell Jack. ‘Like his dad before he went all “LA”. These days, Cillian jumps out of bed and straight onto a vitamin drip.’

Jack smiles and I realise I haven’t answered him about dinner. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and looks up at me.

‘Look, I just wanted to say—’

He’s cut off by Ari, charging back into the kitchen.

‘Margaret’s not in the car! We’ve lost her!’

‘We haven’t lost her,’ I say calmly. ‘Let me check my bag.’

I empty the contents of my canvas tote onto the kitchen table, poking through used tissues, a pair of spaceman underpants and my moon cup, which I push discreetly back into the bag.

‘You see? She’s not there!’ Ari shouts. ‘We left her at the swimming pool!’

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