I reached out. Covered her hand with mine and squeezed it. ‘That’s not so terrible, Angie.’

She glanced down and a tear escaped. Fled down her face and dropped on her lap. She wiped it away savagely. ‘Except that that was two days ago and I haven’t heard a dicky bird since. And no, he’s not away. Clarissa said she spoke to him at the cottage yesterday. You see, I just thought – if he came for supper, in the lovely home we’d created together over the years, he wouldn’t be able to resist it – me. And of course the girls go and meet him so I don’t have that. If they were younger he’d have to pick them up from home. Realize what he’d given up. I could be on the doorstep looking radiant, dressed up, a spot of scent. Roses on the hall table.’

‘Yes, yes, I see,’ I said gently.

She swallowed. Attempted a brave smile but it wobbled. ‘You know, it’s insulting enough to be left for another woman, Poppy, but to be left for no one, for a vacuum to be preferable …’ She fell silent. Ran a fingertip around the rim of her wine glass. Round and round it went.

‘I can’t stop making a fool of myself,’ she whispered.

‘That’s not true.’

‘It is. It is true. Pete. Tom.’ She paused. ‘I made a fool of myself with Sam Hetherington too,’ she said quietly. ‘After the hunt. Not that I care now.’

‘Did you?’ I felt all my sinews stiffen.

‘We all went back to his place for tea. It’s a bit of a tradition at the end of a day’s hunting, for anyone left in the saddle to wind up where you started, where the meet was, except it’s hardly tea. Bottles of whisky come out and everyone drinks jolly hard, I can tell you. Well, as you know, I’d already had a few pre-match tinctures at the meet, so by about five o’clock I was flying. Particularly since I had to wait until everyone had gone before I could – you know.’ She fell silent.

‘Proposition him?’ I prompted breathlessly, unable to resist.

‘Oh, I didn’t jump him or anything,’ she said hastily. ‘Just asked if he was taking anyone to the hunt ball on Saturday, and if not, since we both seemed to be on our tod, whether we shouldn’t team up together. In the nicest possible way, of course.’

‘Of course.’ I was rapt. ‘And?’

‘He sort of laughed and said he wasn’t sure what his plans were. So I persisted. Will I ever learn? I said, “Come on, Prince Charming, how about taking Cinders to the ball?” Even plucked a rose from a vase and put it between my teeth, perched coquettishly on his kitchen table in my jodhpurs. I was well and truly smashed, obviously.’

‘Obviously.’ I was trying hard to hide my agogness.

‘And he was terribly charming. Removed the rose and escorted me to my horse box where Libby, my groom, was waiting to drive me home. Said he was really sorry, but since he was hosting the thing, he thought he’d be pretty busy. It was only when I threw my arms round his neck – all in front of Libby, incidentally, who didn’t know where to look – that he disentangled me and told me there was someone he couldn’t get over. That he wasn’t quite ready for “teaming up” with anyone. His ex, I suppose.’

‘Yes. I suppose.’ Suddenly I felt the need to hide my face. I got to my feet and went to the sink, busying myself on a spurious errand of hanging out a dishcloth, hoping she’d go. I wanted my heart to sink alone, not in company. Angie didn’t seem inclined to move, though.

She sighed. ‘So there we have it.’ She gave an ironic little laugh. ‘Two unattached men, one of whom I have children by, both of whom would rather be alone than with me. Marvellous, isn’t it? And d’you know, Poppy, at my age, and at my stage in life, I really didn’t think I’d be worrying about this sort of thing. Thought I’d be planning little dinner parties, titivating the garden. Didn’t think I’d be working the singles market. There’s Clarissa at school with boyfriend trouble, crying down the phone about some boy she likes who’s gone off with a friend of hers, and I’m too busy with my own disastrous love life to even sympathize. Too busy being rebuffed myself. Pitiful, isn’t it?’

This didn’t seem to demand an answer. But it occurred to me that I too had been rebuffed by Sam, when I’d asked him if he read, mentioned the book club. Charmingly brushed aside. So charmingly I might even have been in danger of not noticing: of repeating the error, going back for more, if the hunt had gone otherwise. If, say, Thumper had behaved perfectly, might I not have found myself back at Sam’s place with Angie for tea, outstaying all the other riders, elbowing her out of the way over the whisky bottle, nicking the rose from her teeth, asking him to accompany me not her, to the hunt ball, while she staggered to the loo to reapply her lippy? One of two very pissed and very desperate women? I shuddered. Glanced furtively at the clock. Thank God I had a date tonight. A proper one. If only I was allowed to go on the bloody thing. I had a feeling it might not be tactful to mention it under the circumstances, but the fact remained that Luke was probably even now laying the table and polishing the glasses. Meanwhile my fringe was curling horribly and in precisely ten minutes Peggy – who I’d asked instead of Luke’s sister – would be here and I wasn’t even dressed. The laundry basket was under the table and I riffled in it. Grabbed some pants and pulled them on surreptitiously under my dressing gown.

Angie narrowed her eyes, suspicious. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere, why?’

‘You’ve just put frilly pants on.’

‘Oh. I’m … just having supper with Luke, that’s all.’

‘Ooh,’ she said archly, and I had a nasty feeling the combination of baring her soul and a bottle of wine might drive her to lash out.

I braced myself, but we do, after all, choose our friends wisely and Angie had a kind heart. Her face softened.

‘Good. I’m really pleased. He’s a sweet boy.’

I relaxed, although rather wished she hadn’t added the last bit.

‘Excellent. Well, I’m glad you approve,’ I said, rallying. Wishing too for just a spot of privacy, for not living in a village where everyone knew my business. ‘And now if you wouldn’t mind buggering off, Angie,’ I said pleasantly, ‘perhaps I could get dressed as well? Not just leave it at knickers?’

She raised a smile and got to her feet, swinging her Chanel bag over her shoulder, simultaneously draining her glass.

‘Where’s he taking you?’

‘He’s, um … cooking me supper.’

Her eyes came round from her empty glass, wide and delighted. ‘Is he now? Ooh, Poppy, how exciting! No wonder you’ve got your frillies on. Are you sure you’ll need them at all?’ She threw back her head and cackled loudly.

I regarded her narrowly. ‘Thanks for that, Angie.’

‘My pleasure,’ she grinned, clearly enjoying herself now, morale somewhat restored. ‘Well, I hope it goes well. You’re so suited to each other, everyone says so. You should have got it together from the word go, which is exactly what I told him after I found him in the garden with Saintly Sue, that night at the book club.’

‘Did you now,’ I muttered. How pissed was she? Did she have to bring that up? ‘What else did you tell him?’ I asked as I hustled her towards the front door. Damn. I could hear Archie crying upstairs. I’d have to give him a bottle and Peggy would be here to sit soon. I hadn’t even dried my hair.

‘Oh, nothing else,’ she twinkled merrily, jingling her car keys – Angie lived five minutes’ walk away but always drove. ‘Although he was so sweetly concerned about how you were going to manage on your own as an impoverished widow, et cetera, that I did set his mind at rest on that score. Toodle-oo, Poppy! Have a lovely evening.’

And with that she sashayed out of the front door, hips swaying, and down the path to her car.




27

I stared at the door as it shut behind her. Remained motionless a moment, engrossed, it seemed, in the paintwork. Then I went into the sitting room, crossing to the window to watch as her car drew away from the kerb, headlights going on against the gathering darkness, faint drizzle sparkling in their beam. Across the road the Fishs’ light went on too, briefly illuminating their front room, before their curtain swished shut. Archie was still crying, his wails gaining momentum upstairs, but I seemed transfixed by the spot Angie’s car had just vacated in the road. Eventually I turned and went mechanically to the fridge for a bottle of milk; warmed it in the microwave. Well, it had probably been a slip of the tongue. And taken out of context too. I didn’t know the full extent of the conversation. I’d give her a ring in a moment, when I’d given Archie his bottle. When she’d had time to get home and put the car away. I could hear her voice on the phone now: ‘Oh no, Poppy, he was just genuinely concerned about you, about how you were going to cope, that’s all! After all, he is in finance and he probably wondered if you needed advice.’ Yes, that would be it.

When Archie’s eyes closed I laid him down; went back downstairs to the kitchen and rang Angie’s land line. But as it rang and rang, and just as I was about to try her mobile, a funny thing happened. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted her reassurances, didn’t want to hear her falling over herself to assure me that I’d taken it the wrong way. I didn’t want any damage limitation, because, it occurred to me, I didn’t particularly want a reason to believe. Would be very happy without one. In fact it seemed to me it might even be a relief. It was quite an epiphany.

I quietly replaced the receiver. The phone sat on the dresser, which was antique pine and rather old hat in these days of space-age designer kitchens, but I still liked it. Still liked the blue and white Asiatic Pheasant plates that ranged across it, a collection I’d made over the years, piece by piece. What I didn’t like, I realized, was the toby jug that sat in the middle of the top shelf. Phil had bought it on a trip to Yorkshire years ago: an ugly old man, his belly the swell of the jug. He’d placed it there, in pole position, and since everything else on the dresser had been chosen by me, I hadn’t had the heart to protest; so it had stayed. It had been there so long I’d almost forgotten it was there, or that I disliked it. Which was how things took root, wasn’t it? Accommodated out of a sense of duty, one becomes accustomed to them, and thus a permanence is achieved. I reached up for the jug, took it to the kitchen bin and dropped it in. The bin was empty, so it smashed, rather satisfyingly, on the bottom. Then I went back to the dresser and picked up the phone.

He’d have gone to some trouble, I knew: buying ingredients, concocting something really rather delicious, poring over cookery books – perhaps casting around for advice, ringing his sister even. Still, it couldn’t be helped. And better now than later. Because later, who’s to say I’d have the nerve? Who’s to say I wouldn’t paper over this crack, as I’d papered over many others in my time? Have it explained away as a nothing, when I knew, in my heart, it was a something?

He answered breezily; a little harassed perhaps, not relishing the phone ringing in the middle of his culinary devotions.

‘Hello?’

The walls of my throat had closed up a little. ‘Hi, Luke, it’s Poppy.’

‘Poppy, hi! You just caught me shelling the prawns. To tell you the truth I had no idea they came with their coats on; had to consult Delia on how to disrobe them. Slippery little devils, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, I suppose. Although actually you can buy them already shelled. Um, Luke, I’m terribly sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it tonight.’

There was a silence. When his voice came, he sounded crestfallen. ‘Oh no, what a shame. Why not?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not feeling too good.’

‘Really? Oh dear, what’s wrong?’ He was doing his best to hide his disappointment and sound concerned, but his voice had an edge to it.

‘I’m not sure. Sorry, Luke.’

My brevity wrong-footed him. There was a silence. Then he rallied. ‘Oh well, never mind. I expect I can freeze it. Sure you won’t change your mind?’