Page 20 of Love and Loathing

“Nope.” She lifted her own glass of water. “But this is far healthier, you know.”

She smiled darkly, letting him know that she was joking, but also that she was not. Impossible to pretend the inherent unfairness of the situation wasn’t obvious. Wasn’t humiliating. But she wasn’t about to protect her father by lying, pretending she had a stomach bug, or a migraine, or any of the other dozen excuses she had made over the years until she decided enough was enough. If her father wanted to act like this, then let others judge him for it.

A depressingly large number sided with him.

“Eat,” she encouraged Aubrey. “Don’t starve on my account.”

Frowning, he did so, adding food to his plate and eating slowly, silently, until the conversation across the table from them came to a lull.

Liv looked over. “Not hungry, my dear?” she asked Evie, nodding to the empty plate.

“The food isn’t vegan,” Evie replied lightly, resigned to the next five minutes of uncomfortable cross-examination, her father looking on, ready with the guilty verdict, the noose.

“Oh, you’re one of those!” said Domnall delightedly, as though she’d just announced she could perform circus tricks.

“Is it for health reasons?” asked Liv. “Because I’m sure you don’t need to lose any more weight.”

Evie smiled thinly. “Not for health reasons, no.”

“Not healthy anyway,” pronounced Domnall. “Not what we’re designed to eat.”

Her father was looking on, amused at her discomfort.

“Youarevery pale,” Liv said, her solicitous smile masking barbed wire.

Domnall nodded. “Could be anaemic. Bit of red meat would do you wonders.”

Should she talk about the iron content of leafy greens? Go through all the data and statistics on the environmental harm of meat consumption? She knew it all. Her teenage decision might have been based on nothing but pity for the animals used, but it was hardly an irrational choice, and, thankfully, not even that unusual anymore. Perhaps she should try to educate them, but they did notwantto be educated. And she was trying desperately to remain polite, very aware of her father’s eyes on her. If she opened her mouth to speak, she wasn’t sure what might come out. All the old hurts and embarrassments were boiling below her skin, the injustice of it all, of constantly being made a target, laughed at, mocked, just for trying to do the right thing. It was exhausting, and lonely, and right then, with everyone’s eyes on her and Aubrey silent at her side, memories of falling ketchup and thwarted plans and dark, disdainful eyes stripping her right to her ridiculous childish soul… She didn’t trust herself to speak.

Then Aubrey, in his deep, certain voice said, “As a grown adult, I think we can trust Evie to look after her own health.”

She glanced at him. Grown adult? Was that an apology for the schoolgirl thing?

But he was eating his dinner, unperturbed, no expression that she could decipher on his face. He glanced up at the others, at her father, who was momentarily distracted by receiving a message from Howell. Maybe he seized that opportunity, maybe he was prompted by whatever devil clearly lived in his head, because he smiled slightly and added, “She seems perfectly healthy to me, at any rate. A very healthy appetite. Extremely energetic.” He speared a large parsnip with his fork. “Full of spunk.”

Domnall suppressed a guffaw, Liv’s expression dark, Aubrey’s innuendo delivered so calmly that no one could be sure he’d meant it. And no one knew how to respond. It could have all been for Liv’s benefit, his own version of the false whisper, making it clear they were banging like rabbits. But as Evie glanced at him, hardly knowing whether to laugh or get indignant, he nudged her knee with his under the table, a secret smile in the corner of his mouth.

It worked anyway, whatever and whyever his tactic. By the time Howell left and her father’s attention returned to the table, Domnall’s mind was far from veganism and Liv was acting as though Evie didn’t exist.

Late that night, Evie lay in bed, tired but very far from sleep. They’d all gone to the drawing room after dinner, the other four clearly intending to begin talking business. Evie hadn’t seen how her presence there would help her current cause—she couldn’t join in, and would only have to sit throttling her rage as they all lounged around working out how to keep more of Domnall’s excessive wealth in his pockets, Aubrey a key part of it, the one who came up with the methods to deprive schools and hospitals… She turned over irritably in bed, pillow annoying her, unable to get comfortable. No doubt Liv would play an active role, too. As a tax lawyer, she probably knew even more about it than Aubrey did. They could put their heads together. Sit there together all evening working out how to stop money going where it was needed.

Evie had walked over to Redbridge instead. Spent an hour or two with Amy and Hugo, feeling like a third wheel. Not that they did anything to make her feel that way. They were warm and welcoming. It was coming from inside her, this awkward,outsider feeling. It was just hard, it would always be hard, to see such complete happiness when you were not a part of it. Couldn’t even imagine it.

She had walked back to Conyers, the sky deep black, an owl calling. Had a long shower and a short cry, and got into bed, knowing sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. Aubrey’s laptop—think about that. Think about the plan, not anything else.

There was a knock at her door. The light rap of knuckles.

She sat up, heart skipping in surprise. Housekeeping? Howell? But when she opened the door, it was Aubrey who stood there.

He looked at her for a long moment as though it washerpresence that was expected.

“I know it’s late,” he said at last. “And I know we…”

Hate each other?

He read the thought in her eyes. Agreed with it.

“But,” he continued, “may I come in?”

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