Page 43 of Beautiful Losers

‘I’m surprised you’re allowed to publish your views,’ Mike continues, ignoring the interruption. ‘You can’t say anything these days without causing offence.’

Mindful of the last time Jack and I got into a conversation about cancel culture, I attempt to pivot the conversation to something less inflammatory.

‘Has anyone seenCobra Kai?’ I say. ‘It’s a spin-off ofThe Karate Kid.’

‘When I was a girl, I wanted to learn the karate,’ says Sabrina wistfully, reaching for her wine. ‘But I never got round to it.C’est dommage. I am very supple.’

‘I can teach you a few moves,’ says Leonard. I ran a dojo for a while when I was living in Portland.’

Mike turns to Jack. ‘A colleague was put on probation recently for saying the Chinese caused Covid by eating bats. He was Korean, so if he can’t say it, who can? Free speech is over, my friend.’

‘Koreans aren’t immune to anti-China sentiment,’ says Jack.

Ari, who’s been inside watching a movie, shufflesup to me with his trousers down. ‘I’ve pooed, Mummy. Can you wipe my bottom please?’

It’s a welcome intervention and I seize the opportunity to invite everyone to take a seat at the table, while Jack and I plate up dinner.

‘You owe me,’ he says when we’re out of earshot. He’s whisking a vinaigrette for the salad with an impressive dexterity of the wrist.

‘I already agreed to let you cook,’ I say, lobbing slices of baguette into a bread basket. ‘What else do you want from me?’

‘I’ll think of something,’ he says, fixing his gaze on me. My stomach flips.

Back outside, Kate waves at Jack from the table and gestures at the empty seat next to her.

‘God speed,’ I murmur, slapping him on the back.

The duck confit is a hit. Crispy on the outside, the meat melting in the mouth. How did Jack learn to cook like this? I take a moment to savour it – the food, the wine, the flicker of candlelight illuminating satisfied faces – and allow the conversation to wash over me. Mike is sharing an anecdote with Sabrina about a groin injury he sustained while running the Marathon des Sables a few years ago. He finished the race, though, beating his PB in the process. One of the daughters, her phone face down on the table at Kate’s insistence, tells Myriam her t-shirt is ‘snatched’. It seems to be a compliment, as Myriam thanks her. Kate is lamenting her neighbour’s objection to their plans to build a prep kitchen beside their existing kitchen.Leonard asks her what she does in her regular kitchen if she requires an additional space for food prep.

‘Thank goodness it’s getting cooler,’ says Sabrina, grabbing her pashmina off the back of her chair and wrapping it around her. ‘I’ve lived here forty years and have never experienced heat like this.’

‘Get used to it,’ says Jack. ‘This will be the coldest summer for the rest of our lives.’

‘Isn’t climate changeawful?’ says Kate. ‘Who would want to bring children into this world? It’s very likely I won’t have grandkids. Tell me, Jack, are you and Lauren Jenkins dating?’

‘I suppose you don’t believe in climate change, Hamilton?’ Mike says.

‘I don’t think climate change denial is a credible viewpoint these days.’

‘True. But I mean, how bad can it get for us in the West?’

‘At two degrees warming, 150 million people will die from air pollution alone,’ says Myriam.

It’s the first time she’s spoken more than two words all evening.

‘Yeah, but that’s out of, what, eight billion people?’ Mike retorts, taking a giant bite out of a duck leg. I’m struck by the cavernous size of his mouth given his miniature proportions. ‘We’re not talking about the extinction of the human race here.’

Myriam glares at him. ‘That’s the equivalent of twenty-five Holocausts.’

‘I don’t think it’s appropriate to say “Holocaust” at the dinner table,’ says Kate.

‘Okay, it’s not an ideal scenario, but what can you do when the Chinese insist on building a new power station every two weeks?’ says Mike. ‘Greenhouse gas emissions in the UK, on the other hand, are tumbling.’ He looks pleased with himself, as though he were single-handedly responsible for this substantial feat.

‘In a large part thanks to China making your fake lawns and mobile phones,’ says Myriam, unimpressed. ‘It’s a con. The West has simply outsourced its emissions and it’s the poor that are taking the hit.’

‘I don’t think that’s fair,’ pouts Kate. ‘Governments are responding to the problem. Like with the ban on plastic straws. And practically everyone I know is stepping up, doing their bit. We never leave the house without our tote bags, isn’t that right, girls?’

‘No offence,’ says Jack, ‘but that’s micro-consumerist nonsense. Tote bags aren’t going to solve the climate crisis.’

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