The Burnout(76)

“Ask him!” I say impulsively. “Straight out. Ask, ‘Why didn’t you just build the shelves?’ Man-to-man. He’ll tell you.”

“Are you insane?” Finn stares at me.

“No, but I’m dying of curiosity,” I confess. “And he’ll tell you! Look, he’s all alone.” I nudge Finn, nodding my head at Adrian, who is standing moodily at the water’s edge. “He wants some company. You’re his guy. You can find out.”

“What, just ask him, ‘Why didn’t you make your wife’s shelves?’ ” says Finn incredulously.

“Get on to the subject gradually,” I suggest. “Talk about DIY projects. See if he takes the bait.”

“OK,” says Finn at last. “I’ll try. But you come too. Otherwise you’ll only decide you want to know something else and send me back on another fact-finding mission.”

“I wouldn’t!” I grin at him, and he rolls his eyes wryly.

“Are you always this curious?” he adds, as we start walking together down the beach toward Adrian. “Curious-slash-interfering?”

“No,” I say after some thought. “Not recently. In fact, the opposite. I’ve been living with tunnel vision. Maybe that’s why I’m waking up now. I’m realizing, there’s life.” I spread my arms around, savoring the crisp, energizing sea air. “There are people. There’s stuff going on. And it’s not interfering just to have a conversation,” I add, a bit defiantly.

“If you say so.” Finn rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling.

“Oh, they also have problems with sex,” I murmur as we draw near to Adrian. “But maybe don’t go there.… Hi!” I raise my voice, grinning inwardly at Finn’s aghast expression. “How’s it going?”

“Hi.” Adrian looks catatonic with despair. “Cold, isn’t it?”

“Pretty cold.” I nod and shoot a meaningful glance at Finn.

“I was just thinking about all the DIY projects I’ve got waiting for me at home,” says Finn gamely, and I give him a little appreciative grin.

“I hear you, mate,” says Adrian gloomily, then lapses into silence, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring out at the waves. Finn shoots me a look which clearly says, What now? so I draw breath.

“I love Royal Doulton,” I venture brightly. “China. All that. I like … um … displaying it.”

Do I dare add on shelves?

No.

Adrian has tensed up, but he hasn’t looked at me or even replied.

OK, the subtle approach isn’t working. Time to be direct.

“Forgive me, Adrian.” I wait until he looks round, his gaze suspicious. “I’m really sorry to do this, but can I ask you a question? I’m not selling anything,” I add hastily.

“What question?” Adrian’s brow lowers ferociously.

“Well … I was talking to your wife last night.”

“Huh,” says Adrian at once. “Bitching about me, was she?”

“No!” I say, swiftly deciding that what Hayley said was not bitching, it was a valid expression of sadness. “Not at all! But she’s just so hurt, and I think … you know, as an onlooker … if you could explain why you never built those shelves—”

“Not the bloody shelves!” erupts Adrian, and I clap a hand over my mouth. Oops. “She goes on and on …”

“So tell her,” suggests Finn. “Tell her you’re not a shelf-builder, and she’ll have to take it or leave it.”

“I am a shelf-builder!” Adrian roars. “I’m a bloody excellent—” He breaks off, shaking, and I glance at Finn, unnerved. I never knew shelves could be such an emotional subject. For a few moments, no one says anything. I don’t even dare move, in case Adrian lashes out at me.

“You want to know the truth?” he mutters at last, staring down at the foaming water. “Truth is, I didn’t know what she meant. She kept saying she wanted to show off each plate to its best advantage. Fourteen plates. Somehow I got the wrong idea stuck in my head. I was thinking, fourteen shelves—how do I make that look good? But I didn’t want to say I couldn’t do it. So I stalled. I thought maybe she’d forget.”

“Forget?” I say incredulously. “Forget displaying her grandmother’s antique plates?”

“Or change her mind,” says Adrian defensively. “Whatever. But she didn’t. Then some bloke she hired came and did it in one morning, three shelves, boom, and I thought … oh, shit. That’s what she meant.”

I have a vision of him sitting at a kitchen table with a beer, ignoring Hayley’s new shelves, and feel a swell of frustration.

“Did you think of saying that to her?” I blurt out.

“Saying what?”

“ ‘Oh, wow, great shelves. I feel bad now—I didn’t understand exactly what you meant.’ ”

Adrian’s face closes up sulkily. “I would’ve looked like a total numpty.”

“So you’d rather she thinks you’re a horrible, uncaring husband than look like a numpty?”

“It was too late, anyway.” Adrian looks still more sulky. “They were built, weren’t they?”