‘They’re not ones for emoting or expressing themselves much. On the one hand it drives me nuts—’
‘Why?’ interrupted Leo, curious because he considered not emoting and not expressing himself a perfectly good way of being. The best, in fact. It kept you safe, kept you strong. Invincible, unbreakable and always in control.
‘Because no one ever says what they think or feel,’ she said a bit heatedly, as if it was an argument she’d had many times before, ‘and how can you possibly respond to anything if you don’t know the facts? I can’t stand having to second-guess all the time. It’s so much better to have everything out there.’ She stopped, thought for a moment, then shot him a quick smile. ‘On the other it did give me the freedom to potentially screw up my future with no doubt about it whatsoever.’
‘And you haven’t screwed up.’
‘Not yet. And I guess it has taught me self-reliance, independence of thought and to have courage in my convictions.’
‘All good stuff.’
She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You’d think, wouldn’t you?’
‘You’re very capable.’
‘And is that bad?’
‘Why on earth would that be bad?’
‘No idea. But it’s something I can’t help,’ she said and he got the feeling she was somehow apologising for it, although he couldn’t imagine why. ‘When I was sixteen my father had a heart attack. A bad one, although not fatal. My brothers were away at university and my mother sort of fell apart. It was left to me to keep things going for a couple of months. Make sure there was food in the house, bills were paid, doctors’ appointments were kept, that kind of thing. Turned out I was good at it.’
‘Would you ever considering expanding?’
‘I’d love to but that would probably mean taking on someone else and handing over responsibility, and as a total control freak I don’t know if I could do that.’
‘Instead you work pretty much every hour of the day.’
‘So do you.’
‘True,’ he said with a wry smile.
‘So what do you do to relax?’
‘I row.’
‘In your gym?’
‘On the river mainly.’
‘That sounds nice,’ she said. ‘Peaceful.’
‘It is. Very. When it isn’t pelting.’
‘Do you race?’
‘Not since university. I don’t have time to practise.’
‘Do you miss it?’
‘Only the winning.’
She tilted her head and studied him. ‘And I bet you won a lot.’
‘A bit,’ he said, because admitting that he’d been a blue and had won at Henley three years in a row would only come across as boasting. ‘What about you?’
‘I like winning too. Job pitches especially.’
‘I meant, how do you relax?’