Page 45 of Beautiful Losers

‘It’s the small details that count, Murphy.’

‘Well, I appreciate it. Kate Kellaway was certainly impressed. She was disappointed not to see you at breakfast.’

‘I decided to extend my run this morning lest I was forced to witness her trying to corral her daughters into another attempt to go viral on TikTok.’

‘Jesus. I didn’t see that. Was it painful?’

‘I particularly enjoyed the moment she hip-swayed over to them while lip-synching the lyric,I might pull up flexing on these niggas like aerobics.’

I wince. I still haven’t a notion what the deal with TikTok is. Yiv once showed me a video of a girl eating fish and chips to a Pharrell Williams song. It had been viewed twenty-five million times. Sometimes, I wonder if we’ve peaked as a species.

The waiter arrives to take Jack’s order, grabbing his hand and pulling him in for a bro hug, which Jack executes with greater smoothness than I’d have given him credit for. Jack asks for a coffee and inquires after the man’s new baby, bantering with him in perfect French.

‘Wait a second, I thought you couldn’t speak French?’ I say, when the waiter leaves.‘When did I say I couldn’t speak French?’

‘Eh, when I picked you up from the airport and you made me file your lost luggage claim?’

‘I believe I said, “My French isn’t up to much”, which it wasn’t at the time. A hangover and a two-hour Ryanair flight tends to dull one’s linguistic adroitness.’

‘You’re unbelievable,’ I say.

‘Why, thank you,’ he grins.

A family walk past, a boy around Ari’s age perched on his dad’s shoulders. He makes a funny face at Jack, who reciprocates by pulling on his earlobes and sticking his tongue out. The boy laughs.

‘You know a fair bit about climate change,’ I say.

‘I’m a global ambassador for WWF and a climate advocate for the UN. It would be embarrassing if I didn’t have a basic handle on the subject.’

He registers the look of surprise on my face.

‘Doesn’t tally with the box you’ve put me in, does it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My opinion on one thing doesn’t dictate how I feel about another, Fiadh.’

It’s the first time he’s addressed me by my first name, and I can feel every nerve in my body respond.

‘Well, if I’m being honest, eco warrior isn’t exactly on brand for Jack “Our Man in a Mad World” Hamilton.’

The waiter arrives with Jack’s coffee. He opens the wrapper on the accompanying spiced biscuit and breaks it in two, handing me half.

‘I did my undergraduate degree in geography,’ he says, dipping his half into his espresso. ‘I’m a science guy, and the science on the fallout from the burning of fossil fuels is definitive. Likewise, on the necessity of wearing masks and social distancing during a pandemic. I realise we live in a world where every viewpoint needs to say something about your politics and identity, but I don’t subscribe to that. I can believe in small governmentandgive a shit about polar bears.’

‘Fair point,’ I admit. ‘But tell me, if you’re so level-headed, why do you behave like such a gobshite on TV? Ranting and raving over the smallest of things.’

He looks chastened. ‘I know how I can come across sometimes.’

‘Sometimes?’

I sit back in my chair, folding my arms.

‘Okay, a lot of the time,’ he says. ‘It’s not like I set out to become Britain’s most divisive figure. Believe it or not, I went into journalism because I genuinely wanted to do some good in the world. I don’t know what happened. Whether I believe what I’m saying half the time or if it’s all just an act. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m still there. I should have left years ago.’

I’m taken aback by the admission, unsure how to respond. Jack, on the other hand, looks visibly lightened at having unburdened himself.

‘You’re in it for the money,’ I tease, trying to ease us back to more familiar territory – insults and wilful misunderstandings.

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