Without further ado, she handed me her phone. And I could read it all there in black and white, while at the same time Persephone gave me a running commentary on the facts all over again.
Henry’s little brother, Milo, had been caught stealing a bottle of perfume in a department store, and Henry had had to go and fetch him from the police station. They weren’t going to prosecute, but Milo was banned from that store. Secrecy and Persephone could only guess at Milo’s motives, but they were sure he didn’t have any money to speak of, because as everyone knew, his father had been neglecting the children since separating from their mother, and he spent money only on his new girlfriend.
“It’s so sad, don’t you think?” Persephone took her phone back, never mind the fact that I’d been about to click on the link that Secrecy had given to the Bulgarian former lingerie model who was Henry’s father’s girlfriend. “The poor kid must have taken the perfume just to give his mother something nice. Isn’t it terrible the way men always want younger girlfriends? It means a woman is either abandoned or she has to marry a very old man.…”
I was listening with only half an ear. Because all this had happened only last Saturday, the very day when Mia and I were on our way home from Switzerland. When Henry’s phone rang and he said he had to go and collect his brother from a friend.
From a friend!
“Olivia Silver! Persephone Porter-Peregrin!” Mrs. Lawrence had obviously said our names several times already, because I saw the angry vein that always stood out on her forehead when she was about to enter someone in the register.
“Oui, madame, pardon, madame, I didn’t understand the question,” said Persephone like a good girl.
“The verb devoir,” said Mrs. Lawrence. “Fabien et Suzanne. Attendre une heure à la caisse du musée.”
“They really had to wait for a whole hour at the museum ticket office?” Persephone clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “But I suppose it depends what the exhibition was. I’d probably have waited even longer to get into the Kate Moss exhibition; it was really super.”
Now Mrs. Lawrence’s vein looked as if it might burst any moment. “Fabien et Suzanne ont d? attendre une heure!” she cried. “Ont d?! They had to wait for an hour.”
Well, that was their tough luck. But for now I couldn’t care less about Fabien and Suzanne and the stupid museum.
15
THE JANUARY SUN shone through the high windows of the cafeteria, bathing everything in warm golden light that was out of kilter with the way I felt. Henry was already sitting at our table, talking to the boys. At the moment he was laughing at something Gabriel had said, and suddenly I didn’t want to walk over to them. Instead I stopped in the middle of the room as if rooted to the spot. Originally I’d been going to grab Henry and shake him and ask why the hell he hadn’t told me anything about his brother and the rest of it, but seeing him sitting there and laughing, I realized that I wasn’t angry with him at all. I was … yes, what was I? Sad? Disappointed? Confused? Anyway, a bit of all those. He sat there in the sun, looking so familiar and at the same time so strange.
A shadow fell between us. “You’re in my way.” Emily had stationed herself in front of me with a laden tray and was acting as if she couldn’t get past. I took a step aside. All the same, Emily made no move to go on.
“Didn’t you do brilliantly with Florence and Grayson?” she said. “I suppose you’re proud of yourself. No one’s ever managed to divide the twins before.”
“I didn’t…” I closed my mouth again. No way was I going to justify myself to Emily. “Your soup will get cold,” I said instead.
Emily shook her head. “I wouldn’t like to be you,” she said. “It must feel dreadful inside your head … so sick! First that business with Mr. Snuggles and now … Hey! Put that down at once!”
I had taken the bowl of soup off her tray and sniffed it. “Yummy, cream of leek—supposed to be really good for the hair.”
“You are sick!” said Emily, but I could see that she was scared of what I might do.
I raised the soup bowl. “More gloss, fewer split ends … Want to massage it in yourself, or shall I do that for you too?”
“Don’t you dare!” Since Emily was stuck holding her tray with both hands, she decided to go on without her soup. “Absolutely, totally sick,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.
“Talking about herself, is she?” asked Henry. I hadn’t noticed him leaving our table during my little spat with Emily. “Do you want help?”
“No. Do you want some soup?” I offered him Emily’s bowl.
Henry grinned, took the soup from me, and put it down on the nearest table. Then he put his arm around my waist and drew me close. “Hey, you’re late today, cheese girl. I really must tell you what I’ve found out.”