‘That’s quite difficult to answer. And you?’
‘Easy. Northamptonshire. England. How can it be difficult to answer?’
‘It assumes that you have a family. I have several families. And each one has several houses.’
‘Sounds very grand.’
‘Actually, it’s a pain in the arse.’
‘Oh. What kind of name is Ingrid Da Cunha anyway? It sounds like an island off the coast of Sweden.’
Ingrid laughed. A little too loudly for my head. ‘I feel like an island off the coast of Sweden. Perhaps that’s a good description of me. It’s actually Ingrid Carlson Da Cunha. My mother is Swedish, my father’s Brazilian. I was born in London so I actually have a British passport. I’ve lived in Tokyo, Hong Kong, Frankfurt, Paris, São Paulo and New York. Broadhill is my ninth, and I hope last, school. Believe me, I would love to be able to say that I’d lived in one place for the last eighteen years.’
I didn’t believe her. Her background sounded impossibly glamorous to me. I rubbed my temples. ‘How long does it take for a hangover to go away?’
‘A week, I think,’ said Ingrid.
‘That’s not funny. A week of this and I’ll be dead.’
Ingrid smiled with amusement, tinged with just a little sympathy.
Then I remembered what I had overheard last night. ‘I suppose you speak a lot of languages?’
‘A few.’
‘Is one of them French?’
‘It’s supposed to be. I’ve just done my French A level.’
‘Do you know what “gosse” means?’
‘Yes. It’s slang. For a child. Or a kid.’
‘Oh. And just to make sure I haven’t got something wrong, “baiser” means “to kiss”, doesn’t it?’
Ingrid laughed. ‘It used to. But not any more.’
‘Not any more?’ Suddenly I remembered the giggling that followed Madame Renard’s explanation of the meaning during that French lesson a couple of years before. ‘Oh, God. It means fuck, doesn’t it?’
Ingrid nodded.
‘Ah.’ This was more serious than I had feared.
The smile had disappeared from Ingrid’s face. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I heard it last night.’ Ingrid was looking at me oddly. ‘Did you hear anything?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But I think some people were doing more than just saying it.’
‘Yes.’
We sat in silence for a moment.
‘So where did you hear it?’ Ingrid asked.
‘It was the middle of the night. As you can tell, I’d had a bit too much to drink, so I went out into the garden for some air. I heard shouting. It was Dominique. She was screaming at Tony: “Salaud! Une gosse! Tu as baisé une gosse!”’ I hesitated. There was really only one conclusion.
I glanced at Ingrid, afraid to voice my thoughts. Did she know? It was hard to tell. Her face was impassive. But she was watching me, too.
‘Tony slept with Mel last night, didn’t he?’ I ventured.
Ingrid nodded slowly.
‘I can’t believe it. What a perv!’ Teenage boys like to think that there is nothing about sex that can shock them. But Tony was somebody’s father, a parent. It seemed unnatural. It seemed wrong. ‘But his wife was right there in the house!’
‘I know,’ said Ingrid. ‘And it sounds like she’s guessed what he was up to. Hold on,’ she whispered. ‘Here’s Mel.’
Mel crept out on to the terrace from the house. She looked dreadful. Her face was a grey shade of off-white and her eyes were red and puffy. She had applied lipstick and some black eye shadow, but that just made her look worse.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Hi.’ She sat down and dived for the coffee. I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t say anything. So the three of us sat in silence.
Feeling a little better for my breakfast, I went for a swim in the pool. The cold water felt wonderful. There was life after alcohol after all. I was joined by an energetic Tony, who did thirty lengths at a disgusting speed. After a few minutes, Guy appeared. He dived in, keeping up with his father stroke for stroke. It seemed obscene to me to see them both striving to outdo each other in the water after what Tony had done with his son’s girlfriend the night before. It was almost as if the night’s activities had given Tony a shot of unnatural energy. Unlike the dazed and bleary-eyed Mel, who was still nursing a cup of coffee on the terrace.
I left them to get on with it, pulled myself on to a chair by the pool and closed my eyes, letting the sun do its stuff.
Around midday Guy roused me. ‘Come on! Get your clothes. We’re going to a restaurant in Monte Carlo. Then we’re off to the beach in the afternoon.’
I grunted and did as I was told, not quite sure whether I was up to a big lunch and the alcohol that would probably go with it. Everyone was milling around in the large hallway. Dominique had appeared, wearing her sunglasses and acting as though nothing had happened the night before. The only person not present was Owen. Guy said he was plugged in to his portable computer and didn’t want to join us. That bothered nobody.
‘OK, let’s go,’ said Tony. ‘We can all squeeze into the Jeep.’
‘I’ll take my car,’ said Dominique.
‘If you like.’
‘I can take someone with me,’ she turned to me. ‘David?’
I was a little surprised that she had picked me. I would have preferred to go with the others and slump in silence in the back; I wasn’t sure I was up to making conversation with Dominique that morning. But I didn’t want to be impolite. ‘OK,’ I said.
We all trooped outside, Tony pulled up in the Jeep and everyone but me piled in. Dominique had gone back inside for something. Tony waited a few seconds, muttering to himself, and then started the engine.
‘Sorry, David, she’s always late for everything. We should go on ahead. Do you want to come with us?’
I hesitated a moment. ‘No, I’d better wait for her,’ I said eventually, deciding that that was the least rude thing to do.
‘OK. Tell her we’ve gone to the usual place. See you there!’ and the Jeep shot off up the driveway.
I waited a couple of minutes and then went inside myself.
‘David!’
I heard Dominique’s voice calling from the living room. I went in. She was drinking from a large crystal tumbler of clear liquid.
‘Do you want some?’
‘What is it?’
‘Vodka. It’s cold.’
I shook my head. ‘Not after last night.’
She laughed. ‘Do you have a headache?’
I nodded.
‘Well, have some, then. It will do you good. I promise you’ll feel much better.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
She poured a large amount of vodka into a tumbler and handed it to me. ‘Here. Try it.’
I looked at her doubtfully. What the hell, I thought, and took a big slug. The ice-cold liquid turned to fire as it hit the back of my throat, and I scowled.
‘Wait a moment,’ she said, smiling. ‘It won’t take long.’ She watched me, as I held the tumbler awkwardly. ‘Well?’
It was true, I did feel slightly better as the vodka entered my bloodstream.
‘Have some more. Salut!’ She drained her glass and refilled it. Under her watchful eyes, I drank more from mine.
‘Shouldn’t we be going?’
‘There is no hurry. This is France. In any case, Tony always complains I’m late for everything.’
‘OK,’ I said, not quite knowing what to do. We were standing a couple of feet apart. She was wearing a loose white dress, and her blonde hair was tied back behind her neck. She had taken off her sunglasses. Her eyes rested on me as she drank. I wasn’t sure what to do or where to look. I could feel the warmth in my face; I didn’t know if it was from the vodka or the embarrassment or both. I gulped some more of my drink nervously. In the end, my eyes ran out of other places to look and I met hers. They were blue. There was something odd about them, but I didn’t have time to work out what.