Chapter 12 #2
‘Everyone, this is Finn, the final member of our little group,’ Hugh announces as we’re congregating for breakfast. Cara has excelled herself again; as well as the croissants and pains au chocolat you’d expect to find at a French breakfast table, there is a selection of cold meats and cheeses, as well as eggs in various forms, fruit juices and a selection of teas.
Cara herself is deftly operating a coffee machine that looks very similar to the one I’ve been using at Maison Olivia.
All conversation ceases immediately as everyone turns to study the newcomer.
I note with amusement that Gina’s eyes are as wide as saucers, although her mouth is set in its customary downward curve of disapproval.
Suzie and Grace are looking unsure, evidently waiting for Gina to tell them what their reaction to Finn should be, and Lynette is eyeing him up in a similar manner to a lion assessing its prey.
‘Bloody hell, he’s going to be a bit of a distraction,’ she murmurs when I sit down next to her. ‘If I were twenty years younger, I’d be all over him.’
‘Really?’ I ask, studying Finn once more. He’s chatting to Cara while she makes him a coffee so is hopefully oblivious to our scrutiny.
‘You don’t think he’s utterly gorgeous?’
‘He’s OK. I mean, he’s no Henry Cavill, but he’s not Shrek either.’
‘The Superman guy?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Bit old for you, isn’t he?’
‘Says the woman eyeing up a man half her age!’ I retort.
‘Fair point. I wonder what he writes?’ Lynette continues after a brief pause. ‘Cosy crime?’
‘He’s not a writer,’ I tell her. ‘He makes TV game shows.’
‘Really? How do you know that?’
‘I bumped into him in the town this morning. He was lost so I showed him the way to the house. We chatted.’
She smiles mischievously. ‘Gina isn’t happy about him at all, which pleases me immensely.’
‘She doesn’t know anything about him.’
‘That doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s a man will already have ruffled her feathers. We’ve never had a man on these retreats before, and it’s going to change the dynamic. Look at the way she’s sizing him up.’
‘You were sizing him up yourself just now,’ I remind her.
‘Yes, but in an entirely different way. I was, and still am, enjoying a bit of eye candy. She’s trying to work out if he’s a threat. When she finds out he’s a non-writer on a writers’ retreat, it will probably blow her mind.’
‘Does it matter? We’re all here for the same reason, aren’t we? He’s just after inspiration for a TV show rather than a book.’
‘It doesn’t matter to normal people like you and me. But Gina is already off kilter because of you, and now she’s got another complete unknown to deal with. She doesn’t like things she can’t control.’
‘I wouldn’t say she controlled you. You seem to take pleasure in winding her up.’
‘Yes, but I’m still a known quantity.’
‘Tess said that there’s a connection between you, but it wasn’t her role to tell me what it is.’
She smiles. ‘There is. Have you worked it out?’
She obviously thinks this is a big mystery and is clearly dying to tell me. I can’t say that I haven’t really given it more than a couple of passing thoughts, so I simply shake my head instead.
Her smile broadens. ‘Would it help if I told you that we’ve known each other since I was born?’
I stare at her, and then at Gina. Apart from their eyes, which I’ll admit are the same colour, there is no resemblance between them that I can spot.
‘You’re sisters?’ I ask. OK, I have to admit that this is a bigger reveal than I’d given credit to.
‘Yes. She’s six years older than me and, boy, did she like to remind me of that fact when we were little.
I think she still would, if she thought I gave a crap.
I did ask our mother once whether she was sure one of us wasn’t a changeling, because we couldn’t be more different in every conceivable way. ’
‘You’re both writers,’ I point out.
‘A fact that irritates her every day. She can’t bear the fact that I’m a reasonably successful author with eight books out, while her first is still in the doldrums.’
‘Does it have to be a competition? It’s not as if you write in the same genre.’
‘If you want to understand one thing about Gina, it’s that everything is a competition and she’s a sore loser. That’s her Achilles’ heel. If she could just chill the hell out, she might actually be someone worth talking to. As it is, well…’
‘You hate her and she hates you.’
Lynette grins. ‘It’s more of a love/hate thing. She hates me because I’m more successful than her and, after years of her telling me how much better and more important she is than me because she’s the older child, I love rubbing her face in it.’
I flick my gaze across to Gina, who is deep in conversation with Suzie and Grace.
From the way she keeps looking at Finn, who is still chatting with Cara, it’s not hard to work out what they’re talking about.
I’m not na?ve enough to buy Lynette’s version of events wholesale – I’m sure Gina has her own story about the feud between the two of them – but it’s become clear to me that Lynette’s friendliness is a thin veneer over a desperate desire to have an ally.
It’s a shame, because I do like her, but I’m not here to embroil myself in her family dynamics.
Who knew that a writers’ retreat would be so complicated to navigate?
Let’s hope Finn doesn’t turn out to be some long-lost cousin from a branch of the family they both loathe.
I think I might have to go home early if that happens.