A Question of Love (25 page)

There was a hideous photo of me, taken last night, talking to Hope on my mobile, captioned,
Feeling the pressure
—
anguished Laura arranges assignation
; next to it was one of Luke kissing me as I arrived at the gallery—Kiss me Quick—and beneath, a smaller one of Sweetie and Yogi captioned
Kids devastated
.

I was so shocked, I almost walked out of the newsagent’s without paying. Then I ran home and read it all, speechless with rage.

‘I’ve just seen it,’ Luke said from his car. ‘I saw it at the garage.’ He was going to Majestic to get the wine for the private view.

‘I haven’t stolen anyone’s husband—I’ll sue these bloody people—and I’d sue Magda too, if I didn’t know
you
‘d end up footing the bill.’ I could hear the tick-tock of his indicator.

‘There’s no point—even if you had the half a million it would cost—because that
is
what Magda said. They’ve actually quoted her accurately but given it a completely different context to twist the meaning.’

I heard his car slow up.

‘So she’s furious too, I presume.’

‘No—she’s thrilled.’

‘
Why
? It makes her out to be a complete victim.’

‘Strangely, she doesn’t mind. She
does
like to think of herself as having been “abandoned” by me, even though
she
was the one who left. I asked her whether she’d send them a solicitor’s letter so that they’d print an apology and she said she has no intention of denying their story.’

‘Do you think she did it deliberately?’

‘No.’ I heard him pull up the handbrake. ‘She’s not that subtle.’

‘Right. Well, that’s my day ruined. It’s now, officially, No-Good Friday. And what’s happening with the rest of yours?’

‘I’ve got to take the wine back to the gallery, then I’ve got to collect the catalogues from the printers before two. At three Jessica’s being dropped off, and I’ve got her this evening…’

‘Oh. You didn’t tell me that. I assumed I’d be seeing you.’

‘I’m sorry, but Magda’s out tonight, so I said I’d have Jess.’

‘What about tomorrow? Will I see you then?’

‘Well, it’s a bit difficult, because I’m taking Jessica down to my parents.’

‘Really? What about the evening then?’

‘Well Jessica’s staying, as normal, and then on Sunday we’ll be over at Magda’s.’

‘How
lovely
for you
,
‘ I said bitterly. ‘I’m so glad!’

‘Well there’ll be an Easter egg hunt and Jessica said she wants to be with us both—it’s perfectly understandable as it’s Easter Sunday.
Please
don’t be cross with me, Laura, I can’t bear it.’

‘Well what about Sunday evening then?’

‘I’ll try…’

‘Or
Monday
?’

There was a pause. ‘Well…on Monday we’re actually going to Magda’s mother’s.’

‘Oh! Wonderful! So you’ve left me completely high and dry! All weekend! Bloody
marvellous
!
‘

‘Well…it’s
so
difficult when you’ve got children. I’m really
sorry
Laura. I
promise
I’ll make it up to you.’

‘Why couldn’t I at least have gone with you to
your
parents? I’d love to have seen them again, and maybe they’d have liked to see
me
.’

‘Of course they would—they’ve said that—they always liked you. But Magda would have gone
mad
if she’d found out that I’d taken you there with Jess. I couldn’t risk it.’

‘
Gone
mad? She already
is.
In any case you could have just said, “Sorry, Magda, but, as a single man, I’m at liberty to incorporate my girlfriend into my weekend arrangements if I
wish
to.”‘

‘Yes. I could have done, and I know I
should
have done—and in future, I promise I
will
. But I’m not going to do that
just
yet…’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m taking Jessica to Venice for the May bank holiday weekend.’

‘Oh. You didn’t tell me.’

‘I’ve only just decided. One of my artists is getting married there and I’m invited and I thought it would be lovely to go with Jess, and Magda’s agreed to it in principle, which amazed me, so I
don’t
want to rock the boat. I’m treading on eggshells here, Laura.’

‘Yes,’ I said crossly. ‘And you’re breaking them.’

I was furious with Luke, and also with myself for not having discussed the weekend with him in advance. I hadn’t realized that he’d be unable to see me, and I’d got nothing else planned. Hope and Felicity were both away, and my parents were incredibly busy because Easter is the start of the tourist season, and in any case they needed all the beds. I’d simply have to occupy myself, I realized. Swim. Read. There were things to sort out in the flat—I’d neglected it since meeting Luke again. So on Saturday I spent a couple of hours in Holmes Place, ploughing up and down the pool. I went to the market and bought lots of plants. I did the small back garden—pruning and planting—then I tidied the front. And I was just standing in the bay window, putting young red and pink geraniums in the window boxes, when I saw a woman with a black and white Great Dane climb the front steps, and ring Cynthia’s bell. Half an hour later, as I was putting out the rubbish, they reappeared, followed by Cynthia, elegantly dressed as usual, smiling benignly.

‘Let me know how you get on,’ she called to them from the door. ‘We can always do a follow-up if you need it.’

‘I don’t think we will,’ the woman beamed, ‘but thank you, Cynthia. I feel
so
much better now. Come on, Dinky.’

Cynthia waved them off as the dog loped down the street.

‘Another satisfied customer?’ I said pleasantly.

‘Yes. She’d come up from Godalming. She was desperate to see me.’ I could smell the sweet scent of Cynthia’s
Magie

Noire.
‘I was able to charge a bit more as it’s Easter Saturday.’

‘Nice of you to let her bring her dog.’

Cynthia looked puzzled. ‘Oh, no—the dog
is
the customer or, rather, client.’

‘Really?’

‘I’ve been diversifying, you see.’

‘Into what?’

‘Psychic healing for pets. I realized that I wasn’t making full use of my ability to connect mentally with animals; so I’ve just done a two-day course in Advanced Interspecies Communication. You can’t imagine how useful it was.’

‘No. I can’t.’

‘I put it on my website on Monday and, to my amazement, I’ve already had
four
bookings—two for today—so that should help keep the wolf from the door or, rather, get the wolf
through
the door. I’ve just had a very good session with Dinky. I was able to tune into her thought waves and identify the problem.’

‘Which…
was?
‘

‘Well…I shouldn’t really tell you. Client confidentiality and all that…’

‘Oh. Of course.’

‘But…’ She lowered her voice. ‘She was worried about her biological clock—she almost five so it’s understandable—but her owner just wasn’t picking up on it, with the result that Dinky was miserable. She told me she couldn’t
bear
to see puppies. But hopefully a nice boyfriend will be found for her and she won’t lose her chance to be a mum. Because that would be a terrible shame. You must never let that happen to
you
, Laura,’ she added. ‘
You
should have a baby.’ She peered at me. ‘Shouldn’t you?’

The infernal
cheek
! And I was about to tell Cynthia to keep her impertinent pronouncements to herself when I saw Mrs Singh from next door coming down her steps. She leaned over the wall, then laid her hand on my arm, her face, as usual, a mask of sincere, if slightly horrible, sympathy.

‘I’m afraid I saw the piece about you in the newspaper yesterday, Laura.’ My heart sank. ‘
But
…’ She inclined her head. ‘I just wanted you to know that I didn’t believe a word of it. Not a
word
,’ she added benignly.

‘I’m glad you didn’t, because it wasn’t true.’

‘I know you would
never
steal another woman’s husband.’

‘Thank you Mrs Singh.’

‘I know I
don’t
have to worry about Arjun.’

‘You don’t.’

‘I
never
believe what I read in the papers,’ said Cynthia. ‘Because I know only too well what journalists are like. They are dishonest, dishonourable, deceitful, duplicitous…s
cum-bags
!’

‘Well, the tabloid journalists certainly are,’ I concurred.

‘No—
all
of them! They’re
all
like that! Take it from me—they are
all
completely mendacious, misleading, morally bankrupt…
bastards
!
‘
She was so angry that the sinews on her throat jutted out like flying buttresses. ‘Anyway…’ She breathed in deeply through her nose. ‘I have a troubled guinea pig coming in half an hour so I mustn’t upset myself.’

As I followed Cynthia up the front steps I wondered why she should she be quite so bilious about journalists—perhaps she’d had some bad press when she was an actress. But that was a very long time ago. As she slammed her front door, I dismissed her outburst from my mind, deciding that she was simply eccentric, and carried on with my spring clean.

Now that I’d got the garden organized I tidied up inside. I had sorted out Nick’s things in February but hadn’t been through my own. So I opened the wardrobe and decided to take to Oxfam anything I hadn’t worn since he’d left. And I was just standing on a stool to pull the things out of the top shelf when I noticed a cardboard box on the top of the wardrobe, right at the back, pushed against the wall. I pulled it towards me and lifted it down. It wasn’t heavy, as it only contained one thing—an expensive-looking blue and white striped carrier bag. My heart turned over. I’d forgotten that it was there. Inside were two things which I could no longer bear to look at: a well thumbed copy of
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
and, sheathed in tissue, the white babygro, patterned with tiny teddy bears, that I’d been unable to resist—or to dispose of.

You should have a baby, Laura…

Yes, I thought bitterly I
should. I should
have a baby—or, rather, I should have
had
one
.

For once, Cynthia was right.

By Sunday afternoon I was climbing the walls. I’d scoured all the papers—to my relief there was nothing more about me—I watched the boat race in a bored sort of way, then I went for a long walk in Holland Park, lingering in the knot garden, which was cross-hatched with rows of pink and purple tulips. Then I decided I might as well go in to work. I could just sit there in silence and solitude, compiling questions for the second series—Dylan and I were behind. I have a key, so I let myself in. I sat at my desk, totally absorbed. It was the perfect distraction.

What sea is 1300 foot below sea level? (The Dead Sea.) What is bouillabaisse made from? (Fish.) At what stage of gestation can the heartbeat of a human embryo be detected? (Five weeks.) How do you express zero in Roman numerals? (You can’t.) Why has Luke abandoned me for the entire weekend? (Because he’s scared of Magda.) What is the chemical formula for carbon monoxide? (CO.) What is the golden rule when dating someone with kids? (Remember that you will always come
last
.)

To my surprise, I heard the front door squeak open.

‘
Hi
,’ said Tom wonderingly. ‘What are
you
doing here?’ I felt myself blush, as though I’d been caught raiding the stationery cupboard. ‘It’s Easter Day—I thought you had…plans.’

‘Well…’ I shrugged. ‘Nothing firm…and Dylan and I need to stock up on questions for the second series so I thought I’d come in and make a start.’ He nodded sceptically as he took off his jacket. ‘How about you?’ I asked.

‘Oh…I’ve got so much to do. I’ve got accounts to check—the April 5th deadline’s looming—then I’ve got to rewrite the Lenin proposal for BBC Four, plus I want to think about Cannes—the Mip festival’s in a fortnight.’

‘And you’re definitely going?’

‘You bet I am—I want to sell foreign rights for the quiz.’

‘Has there been much interest?’

‘Yes, from the States, France and Germany—but I want to do any deals face to face.’

I fiddled with my pen. It was one of Nick’s SudanEase biros.
A Little Goes A Long Way
was stamped on it. ‘Anyway,’ Tom went on, ‘I’ve got things like that to do, and today’s the perfect opportunity.’

‘Yeah, perfect.’

‘Plus, I wasn’t that busy—as it turned out.’ I looked at him. ‘So, well, right, then.’ He gave me an awkward smile. ‘I’ll…leave you to it.’

He went up the narrow stairs to his office on the top floor, and I carried on working, lifting the reference books off the shelf, and flicking through them for suitable questions.

What breed of dog is named after the largest state in Mexico? (Chihuahua.) The letter Delta comes where, in the Greek alphabet?’ (Fourth.) What, in Russian culture, is a ‘Dacha’? (A country house.) Where is my husband? (I simply don’t know.)

I became aware that my mobile was ringing. I scrabbled in my bag.

‘Laura, it’s me.’ I glanced at my watch. It was already half past seven.

‘Are you on your way back?’ ‘Well no—that’s why I’m phoning. I’m really sorry, because I was hoping to see you, but I can’t leave yet.’ ‘Why not? You’ve been there since lunchtime. It’s
my
turn now, Luke.’

‘But Phoebe’s not well—’ he dropped his voice—‘and Magda’s in a bit of state about it and she wants me to stick around a bit longer for moral support in case the vet has to be called.’

‘I see,’ I said blankly.

‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Never mind,’ I said breezily. ‘I’m getting used to all the disappointments.’

‘I’m sorry—it’s only temporary—I love you, Laura—ALL
RIGHT
MAGDA!!!!—I’llringyoulater.’