Sensei John took the dojo through a series of warm-down stretches and then performed his final protocols, which ended in the boys and girls making small bows to their sensei before walking to their parents.
De Payns waited, relaxing into the moment but anxious about Lolo and Tranh identifying activity on the Starkand phone.
‘Hi Alec,’ said Ana, coming up beside him. ‘You have the boys tonight?’
‘Yes, normal hours today,’ said de Payns, smiling. ‘Gives me some time with the kids.’
‘Lucky you, with a job where you can wear jeans and trainers,’ she observed. ‘I spent half my career limping around in shoes that were killing me.’
‘You working now?’ asked de Payns, keeping it light.
Ana wrinkled her nose. ‘Looking around, but nothing’s taking my fancy.’
Oliver walked up, handed his sports bag to de Payns and drank from his water bottle.
‘Hi, Ollie,’ said Ana, before de Payns could say anything.
‘Hi, Aunty Ana,’ he replied. ‘Did you see Charlie on the pads?’
‘Yes!’ she said. ‘My son, the Bruce Lee of Montparnasse!’
‘Kung fu is Chinese,’ said Oliver, suddenly serious. ‘Karate is Japanese.’
‘Oh, my mistake!’ said Ana, laughing.
Patrick and Charlie joined them, having helped Sensei John put away the karate gear, and they walked to the door of the church hall, the boys running out into the early evening.
■
The TV news carried a story about Macron easing up on COVID masks, and it was followed by a short piece about Russian troops and armour massing on the border with Ukraine. There also seemed to be Russian troops on Ukraine’s border with Belarus, part of a joint exercise, but without much exercising. De Payns sipped on his riesling, pondering the shorter-than-usual delay between an intelligence service knowing Putin’s moves and the media reporting them. It felt structured.
In another part of the apartment, the boys were fighting over who had installed the dry towel outside the shower and who had the right to use it.
‘The wet person gets the towel,’ yelled de Payns, ‘and they have to come back with a dry one for whoever is next in the shower.’
There was silence.
‘Confirm!’ he shouted.
‘Yes, Dad!’ said Patrick, and he could hear snarling from the bathroom.
Romy emerged from her office and checked the oven. ‘Don’t let them get dry towels all the time,’ she said, taking the glass of wine on the counter. ‘They should use the ones in their room.’
‘They’re wet.’
‘Because they leave them on the floor,’ said Romy, with a small roll of the eyes. ‘They’ll never learn to hang them up if they can always grab a new one. I’m sick of all the washing.’
De Payns muted the TV. ‘Why doesn’t Ana work?’
‘Umm,’ said Romy, surprised by the question, ‘I guess she has Charlie, and Rafi earns enough. I think she has something going, though.’
‘So she does work?’ asked de Payns.
‘Not really, just bits and pieces,’ said Romy, stirring a sauce on the stovetop. ‘She used to be with one of those big American accounting firms. I think she’ll go back to that.’
‘Ana the accountant, eh?’
‘She was on the consulting side,’ said Romy. ‘She’ll go back to it when she finds something she likes.’ She added some salt to the sauce then said, ‘So, I’ve RSVP’d, for the energy gala night.’
‘Great,’ said de Payns, forcing a smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace.
‘You need a dinner suit.’
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘We’ll be on David’s table, which could mean Tony Blair, maybe.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting him,’ said de Payns. ‘And Bill?’
‘Won’t make it,’ she said, pausing to sip her riesling. ‘You have to promise me something.’
‘Sure,’ he said, sitting up.
‘Let this be a social night,’ she said. ‘No working, okay?’
‘Sure, honey, I would never—’
‘I mean, I don’t want you working people. Not at this thing.’
‘Fair enough,’ said de Payns, sitting back. ‘I’ll just enjoy it.’