Page 44 of Beautiful Losers

‘Agreed,’ says Mike. ‘It’s a systemic issue. There’s bugger all the individual can do. What was the stat I read in theFTrecently? A hundred companies are responsible for around 70 per cent of all emissions?’

‘Something like that,’ says Jack. ‘Did you know that the concept of the carbon footprint was created by BP? The company came up with this multibillion dollar campaign to make individuals feel responsible for the climate crisis. By focusing our attention on bolloxology actions, like ditching plastic straws and taking fewer showers, we’d be distracted fromseeing what they’ve been covering up all along – that burning fossil fuels is the cause of ecological breakdown.

‘Of course, now we all know this and everyone thinks there’s nothing we can do about it and that the world’s fucked. Big oil has won. People don’t realise the power they have. That acting collectively could get us out of this mess.’

‘I didn’t have you down as a sandal wearer, Hamilton,’ says Mike.

‘I’m just a fan of science and not wanting to burn down my house, Mike.’

‘Speaking of burning, what’s that smell?’ says Leonard.

Fuck, the tarte tatin!

I jump up from the table.

Jack groans. ‘You had one job, Murphy.’

I run into the kitchen to rescue the tart from the smoking oven. Scraping the most offensive singed bits off the bottom, I smother the slices with crème fraîche. Back outside, everyone has moved on from talking about the Apocalypse. Mike is telling Leonard that America is heading for another civil war. Sabrina is asking Myriam what her plans are post-studies. Kate is showing Jack photos on her phone from the family’s half-term trip to the Seychelles. Most of them are of Kate in a bikini. The teenagers have reclaimed their phones. Thetarte tatintastes like it’s been baked in the fiery pits of Mordor. Everyone pretends not to notice.

25

The Kellaways are heading out for the day. They seem to be enjoying their stay. Kate told me at breakfast that she appreciated the turn-down service I didn’t recall administering.

‘The chocolate truffles on the pillow were heaven, isn’t that right, girls?’

One of the teenagers looked up from her phone and said, ‘Yep’. I was bowled over by this endorsement of their experience.

As soon as they leave, I grab my purse and pocket English-French dictionary, and head to thetabacfor a newspaper. I’m confident I’ve re-familiarised myself with the rudiments of French conversation and am ready to take things to the next level. I find a table outside Chez Colette, order acitron presséand get stuck into reading. Thirty minutes later, I haven’t got beyond an article on doctors’ unions suspending negotiations with health insurance companies. It’s not exactly riveting reading, but you never know when such knowledge will come in handy. Like a sixth sense, I feel Jack’s eyes on me. I look up and see him walking in my direction, Sabrina on his arm. She looks less formidable than usual, dark sunglasses on, her hair tied back in a loose bun.

‘Hey guys,’ I say. ‘Good night, Sabrina?’

She groans.‘J’ai la gueule de bois.’Literal translation: ‘I have a mouth of wood,’ which is a spot-on description of a hangover in my book.

I can’t think of the French for, ‘You were fairly tearing into the sauce last night’, so I ask her what she makes of doctors’ unions suspending negotiations with health insurance companies. ‘If the government persists, it will surely lead to a health catastrophe!’ I say, parroting a quote in the article from the union head. I throw my hands in the air despairingly for added French-ness.

‘Are you feeling okay?’ asks Jack.

‘Never better. What are you guys up to?’

‘Sabrina’s here to meet a friend. I ran into her en route.’

‘I’ll see you two later,’ Sabrina says, giving Jackla biseand walking over to a ruggedly handsome man at the bar. He looks older than Jack and me, younger than Sabrina. He kisses her hand and produces a sunflower from behind his back. Sabrina smiles coquettishly.

My eyes widen. ‘Way to go, Sabrina!’

‘One of many suitors, I believe,’ says Jack. ‘Sabrina Rousseau has a more active love life than I do.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I scoff. ‘Exactly how many women have you been associated with in the past six months?’

‘Don’t believe everything you read. May I?’ He gestures at the vacant seat beside me.

‘Go ahead. I need to get back soon, but will stay for another. Thanks again for last night, by the way. I owe you one.’

‘The food wasn’t bad, was it? Thetarte tatinwas a little smokier than I’d intended. I think we pulled it off, though.’

He shoots me a mischievous side glance.

‘It wasn’t just the food. Did you leave chocolates on the pillows?’ I ask.

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