A Married Man Part 21

I blanched. Glanced quickly at Hector. Rozanna smiled wryly.

'Oh it's OK, he knows. In fact, he knows everything about me now.' She slipped her arm through his. 'How could he possibly not? I've told him everything. Told him how I slipped into this game in the first place, how-'

'Told him about Tommy?' interposed Jack quietly. She flinched.

'Tommy?' I demanded, glancing first to Jack, then back at her. 'Tommy who?'

'Tommy Parker,' she said quietly, not taking her eyes off Jack. 'My fiance. Or ex-fiance. Who ditched me not quite at the altar, but near as dammit five years ago. Tommy, who I'd known for ever, since I was a child. And who I believed I'd love for ever, too. Tommy, who I loved more than life itself. Like you loved Ned.'

'Oh Rozanna' I stepped forward. 'I had no idea. You never said . .

'No, I didn't,' she said softly, shaking her head. 'I never said. But yes, Jack, in answer to your question, Hector does know. He also knows how I picked myself up from that, grief-stricken, shattered, demoralised, and vowed I'd never love again. How I hated men, loathed them, loathed the way the so-called s.e.xual revolution had enabled them to sleep with whoever they wanted, for as long as they wanted with no strings attached. With impunity. I loathed the power they seemed to wield. Hated the concept that apparently, it was OK, because we women were empowered, too. Wondered if there weren't any small, lone, female voices who didn't want that power, preferred the way Mother Nature had intended it to be for us, preferred, after five years of sharing a man's bed, to have a wedding ring and babies to show for it instead' She gave a wry smile. 'All very warped and bitter, a psychologist would no doubt tell you, and all, doubtless, because I'd been scorned. Oh yes, I told Hec everything. I told him how, almost out of revenge, I started sleeping with men and then never seeing them again. Never returning their calls. Tossing them aside. How I, in turn, enjoyed that power. How it s...o...b..lled. How an aristocratic friend of mine introduced me to men who, as he coyly put it, didn't want any commitment, and how suddenly, I found myself turning from a jilted, twentytwo-year-old deb with some serious hang-ups into a highly desirable, high-cla.s.s wh.o.r.e.'

She ran her hand through her mane of long blonde hair. Sighed ruefully. 'And for what it's worth, I haven't actually slept with that many, either. Like I said, I'm fussy. More than twenty, but less than thirty. Not a patch on you of course, Jack,' she shot him a sharp look, tut probably on a par with your average girl about town. The difference being, of course, that unlike your average girl about town, I didn't just take dinner off them. I took their money, too. Possibly some of their dignity as well, who knows. I certainly never felt they took any of mine.' She paused, looked past us reflectively. 'Yes, Hector knows all that. How could he not? It's a fundamental truth about me. There's no getting away from it.'

Hector put his arm protectively around her. 'She's had a tough time,' he said simply. 'But that's all going to stop now. It's all going to change, isn't it, Rosie?' He looked down at her.

I caught my breath. G.o.d, there was such a stunning naivety about him. It was as if his att.i.tude was: oh well, that was that. An unfortunate chapter in Rozanna's life, but now we moveon. Forget it. And yet... I looked at his open, generous face, thought how tall he looked next to Rozanna, who was tiny, actually, but then I'd only ever seen her in very high heels, swathed in cashmere and silk, playing out her costume drama. How small and vulnerable she looked now, her face bare of make-up, and quite young, too, in her late twenties perhaps, and I'd always thought she was much older than me. I licked my lips nervously. It seemed so unfair to say it, but- 'Rozanna, his family. Hector's family. They're obviously very upset.'

'Of course,' she agreed, 'and so would I be if I were them. And that's why I've told Hector to ask me in a year's time. I've told him to forget it for at least as long as that. To ask me then.'

'Oh! Good idea,' I breathed.

'Seems sensible,' nodded Jack.

She smiled wryly. 'Because you think it'll all be over by then, don't you? Blow out in a couple of months, probably. "Oh, she'll want it all right, old Rozanna, you bet she will, because, my G.o.d, it's her only lifeline, isn't it? She'll grasp at anything, anything that means she can have a half-normal life a home, a family, some respectability (so long as no one finds out, nudge nudge) but he'll come to his senses, eventually. Oh yes, he'll wise up. Realise that his family and most of Oxfords.h.i.+re will ostracise him, see his inheritance going down the pan, and come to in double-quick time." It won't last a minute, that's what you'll all think. No.' She held up her hand to halt my protest. 'That's what everyone will think. Not just you. And with good reason.'

'You'll all shake your heads,' broke in Hector quietly, 'and think, "Poor, stupid Hector. What a fool he's made of himself. First time over the hurdles of course, so he's bound to think he's fallen in love. Christ, we all felt like that, but we were more like eighteen!" ' He smiled. 'But actually, it's not so. Contrary to popular belief, I'm neither gay nor a virgin,' he eyed us, quite beadily for Hector, 'and whilst I haven't exactly been s.e.xually promiscuous, I've had my fair share. I've just never understood what all the fuss was about. Until now. But then - I'd never experienced this. The two together. s.e.x and true love. Bingo.' His eyes widened. 'And I do know this to be true love. You see, it's the only time in my life, I've ever felt...' He paused, searched for the word. 'Complete'

He smiled down at Rozanna. 'And I'm not waiting a year, whatever she thinks. I'm going to ask her every day. Every morning when I wake up with her, see her face on the pillow beside me, watch her blue eyes open. And you mark my words,' he glanced up. 'One fine day, she's going to say yes.'

There was a silence. Jack and I regarded them, standing there before us. Hector seemed to have grown in stature overnight, tall and protective, whilst Rozanna looked smaller, softer. It seemed to me that they were almost standing before us as they might in church. That it might already have happened.

Jack cleared his throat. 'Well Hector,' he strode forward and stuck out his hand. 'If that's the lie of the land, then all I can say is good on you, mate. More power to your elbow!' He pumped his hand enthusiastically. I hugged Rozanna.

'Congratulations,' I whispered. 'Lucky you.' And I meant it.

She held me, then stood back and touched my shoulders,blue eyes s.h.i.+ning. 'I know. Lucky, lucky me!'

After that, it seemed only natural to sit down and have breakfast with them, share the tray of pain au chocolat they'd had warming in the oven, and listen, in slack-jawed wonder, as Hector told us exactly what his father could do with his Oxfords.h.i.+re pile and the coffers that went with it. Actually, it transpired Archie couldn't completely swipe the carpet from under Hector's feet, because of a trust fund which kicked in eventually, and which his father couldn't touch. But trust fund or not, we heard that Hector intended to be independent of his family, to make his own way, and that for the first time in his life, he was going to get a job.

'As what?' I asked in awe, spraying crumbs around, and hopefully not looking too incredulous.

'As an artist,' said Rozanna proudly. She hastened to the window seat and picked up the book Hector had dropped as we came in. As she came back, I saw that it wasn't a book at all, but a sketchpad. She plonked it down in front of us.

I turned the pages. 'But these are amazing,' I breathed, gazing in admiration. 'I had no idea ... Oh!' I stopped as I turned the last page and found myself staring at a brilliant sketch of Rozanna, stark naked, and reclining on a rug by the fireplace. He must have been working on it in the window, literally the moment we arrived; hence the light going on, the curtain closing. Just before Rozanna whipped on her dressing gown to meet us.

Ridiculously, I felt myself blus.h.i.+ng. Such a recent, intimate moment, and yet what knocked me out, was how proud and unashamed they were to share it with us. I stared. My G.o.d, it was good, though. He'd caught her perfectly.

'b.l.o.o.d.y good,' said Jack, taking it from me and flicking back through the pages. 'b.l.o.o.d.y good. Self-taught?' He glanced up.

'Pretty much, although recently I've been going to life-cla.s.ses in Oxford.'

'Rather daring?' I suggested.

He grinned. 'What, you mean sneaking out of that house to paint pictures rather than shoot pheasants?'

'Precisely,' I giggled.

Jack shut the book. Sighed. 'They're excellent, but Hector, I have to warn you. Far be it from me to be the voice of doom, but speaking as one who tries to make a living in a similarly esoteric fas.h.i.+on, there ain't no money in this creative malarkey, you know. I mean, unless you really strike lucky, you're going to be struggling away in your garret, eking out the pennies, and you-'

'I might have to teach.' Hector interrupted, nodding. 'I know, and I've thought about that. I think I'd like it. I couldn't do anything as advanced as university level like you, obviously, but after a year or so at teacher training maybe a local primary school? Something like that?'

'Close your mouth, Lucy,' grinned Jack.

I snapped it shut. They all laughed, but I'm sorry. The idea of Hector teaching at the local primary school, and coming home to Rozanna, who'd just put the children to bed and was making a nice rice pudding before darning his socks ... well.

An hour or so later, after we'd drunk more coffee, finally said our goodbyes, hugged them both at the flat door and given them our warmest wishes, we headed off down thecorridor and I shook my head in disbelief.

'Startling enough for you?' murmured Jack as he opened the heavy front door for me.

'Totally. Totally and utterly mind-blowing. Lovely, too,' I admitted.

'Oh I agree. But not without its problems.' We stood for a moment, side by side on the chequered steps, gazing thoughtfully into the misty blue morning.

'Too big, d'you think? The problems?'

'No-o,' he said slowly. 'No, nothing insurmountable. And they've certainly got the determination. And the love.' He smiled. 'And you know what they say. Love conquers all.'

I sighed. 'It is rather romantic, isn't it?'

'In the purest sense of the word.'

Another silence unfolded. I gazed at an elderly couple, sitting on a bench together in the gravel square I knew so well, feeding the pigeons. Felt a lump come to my throat.

'So ... what do we do now?'

He shrugged. 'What can we do? Nothing. Aside from wish them well, and report back accordingly.'

'Rose will kill us,' I said nervously.

He grinned. 'All right, Lucy, I'll take the first bullet.'

'Well, it wouldn't surprise me. I bet she keeps a small silver pistol under her pillow for just such an eventuality.'

'We'll see.' He glanced at his watch. 'Coffee? Or even G.o.d, no, wine. Definitely wine. It's nearly twelve o'clock. We've been hours in there.'

I gazed at him in horror. 'No, it can't be.' I grabbed his wrist, stared. 'Oh G.o.d, it is!' I squeaked. 'It's quarter to twelve!'

'Is that a problem?'

'It's just I said I'd be somewhere at eleven!'

He frowned. 'Only Maisie and Lucas's, surely?'

'Yes,' I gulped, hastening down the steps. 'Yes, only Maisie and Lucas, they'll understand.'

I glanced up at him as I hovered on the pavement, wis.h.i.+ng he'd go. I had a parking place, and Charlie was only round the corner. I could walk. Run, even. I didn't want to have to go through the rigmarole of pretending to drive off to my parents', didn't want to re-park.

'If you're going via the King's Road, I'll cadge a lift,' he said, walking towards my car.

I stared. 'No. No, I'm not going via the King's Road.'

'Ah. Tower of London, perhaps? Madame Tussaud's? The scenic route?'

'Of course not,' I bl.u.s.tered. 'It's just well, I thought I'd pop in on Teresa. For a moment. Since I'm here. See you later, Jack.'

'Ah. Sorry, my mistake, I thought you were late. But there we are. Well, we'll both go up, shall we? I'd like to say h.e.l.lo while I'm here.'

Somehow, against my will, and to my complete and utter horror, I found myself being herded, almost manhandled, back through the front door, and up four flights of steps. It was the work of a moment. We reached the top and stood panting, bang opposite my old front door.

'This is Teresa's flat, isn't it?' Jack was grinning hugely. 'Yes,' I gasped, staring dumbly at the familiar green door. 'Yes, it is.'

'So?' He raised his eyebrows. 'How about knocky-knocky?'

How about f.u.c.ky-offy, I thought, teeth gritted, but I obediently raised my knuckles and tapped. Very, very lightly. 'Not there,' I muttered, turning smartly away.

'Ah, I think,' Jack caught my arm, 'to be fair, only a very small mouse would have heard that, don't you? Shall I try?'

He raised his fist and hammered violently, making me jump. The door reverberated. Jack beamed delightedly.

A few moments later the door flew open. Teresa stood there in a panic.

'Ah! My G.o.d!' She clutched her throat. 'I thought the police at very least Drugs Squad maybe but it you!' She leaned forward and embraced me. 'And Jack.' She hugged him too. 'But you no tell me you coming,' she scolded as she shooed us inside. 'In, in!'

'It was a spur of the moment thing, Teresa, very last minute, and and the silly thing is, I really can't stay.'

'Can't stay? I no have that. Quick, coffee!' She pushed me towards the kitchen, but Jack saluted her in the doorway.

'Lovely to see you, Teresa, but I'm away. I'll be at 69 Upper Cheyne Street, Luce, when you're ready. Have fun.' He gave me a strange look, nodded at Teresa, and then left. The door closed behind him.

'Teresa-'

'Oh, this kitchen, so messy! Here, you sit down,' she dragged up a stool, 'and I unpack while we talk. Shopping bags everywhere see, because I been to Safeway's but I make you coffee while I unpack. And somewhere,' she dived into one of the carrier bags on the floor, 'somewhere I got those biscuits, those tiny chocolate ones we like and-'

'No, no, Teresa, I can't!' I hissed, backing away, whispering in case he was still outside. 'I mean, I'd love to, but-' 'But?' She straightened up, biscuits in one hand, Nescafe in the other.

'Well I'm seeing Charlie!'

'Charlie?'

'Yes, Charlie! You know, you met him at the party. Lovely gorgeous hunky Charlie'

She frowned. 'Married?'

'Well, yes, OK, if you must,' I bl.u.s.tered. 'But you were the one who said go for it, remember?'

She narrowed her dark eyes thoughtfully. 'I say no such thing. I say, sometimes, we have to make our own mistakes, yes?'

'Well, OK, similar,' I conceded. 'But Teresa actually, it's all fine. You see, the thing is, his wife is a religious fanatic isn't that wonderful? I mean, terribly sad and all that, but impossible to live with chants her way round Tesco's, wears yashmaks, bangs her forehead on the floor, that kind of thing.'

Teresa blinked. 'Muslim?'

'Er, no, Christian, I think, but very devout. Incense swinging from the rear-view mirror, that type of thing, poor guy doesn't stand a chance. Oh Teresa, I'm desperate,' I pleaded, 'mad about him, and I must go, he's waiting for me. I'll ring you, OK?'

She regarded me, hands clasped beseechingly at the door, and grinned. 'OK,' she said. 'OK, if you mad about him, you go. But you be careful.'

'Of course I'll be careful!'

She made to open the door, but I was already outside. 'And you going out for lunch? He take you somewhere nice?' Shelooked me up and down as I hovered in the hallway, longmg to fly. 'You look nice.'

'Er, no. No, probably not ... out for lunch. Exactly.'

'Ah' She leaned on the door. 'He not taken you out, yet?' 'Um, not as such. You see we thought we'd you know. Get to know each other first.'

'Ah, I see. So first he s.h.a.g you, and then you eat, huh?' She shook her head. 'So different, the courts.h.i.+p rituals in this country.'

I gulped. Golly. Put like that. She grinned suddenly.

'I tease you. Go. Don't be crestfallen. Go to your lover. You know, in these past few days, I see so many transformations. First I see Rozanna, then I see Hector, and now I see you. And you look ... well. Go now.' She gave me a little push. 'But you take care!'

'Oh I will, I will!'

I kissed her gratefully then spun around, tripping down those stairs as fast as my legs would carry me. My feet clattered on the stones as I ran outside, echoing in the empty street.

Chapter Sixteen.

Outside in the street, I paused for a moment, looking feverishly in both directions, just to make sure Jack really had gone. Then I started running, very fast, due south. Down to the end of my road I scampered, then left, along a bit, and up the second turning on the right. Oh, I knew precisely where Langton Villas was, had trudged up and down it many a time, and usually with that wretched dog of Theo and Ray's under my arm. I must have literally gone past Charlie's nose, all hot and bothered and looking like a berk, just as - well, I was pretty hot and bothered now, wasn't I? I slowed down abruptly. Good grief, Lucy, so what if you're a few minutes late? The man can wait, can't he'? D'you really want to appear on his doorstep in a complete lather, keen as mustard, with a s.h.i.+ny face and gus.h.i.+ng pits? And apart from anything else, I thought, slowing to a necessary limp, I'd break my ankle in these ridiculous, kitten-heeled mules if I wasn't careful. Such seduction paraphernalia was not made for Olympic sprinting.

I stopped in front of number 22, then teetered up the mountain of stone steps, my heart hammering away in my oesophagus. I scanned the doorbells nervously. Mr Charles Fletcher was on the ground floor, apparently, and not, I noticed with relief, Mr and Mrs Charles Fletcher. A good sign, surely? A sign that the split was imminent, already a fait accompli, and had, in fact, been on the cards long before my arrival on the scene?

I pressed the bell and prepared, for the fortunate Mr Charles Fletcher, my most dazzling smile. As the door opened and he appeared, I bestowed it on him, and happily, got an even more dazzling one in return. It came streaming off his face, out of his brown eyes, his wide, generous mouth, and for a moment, I just bathed. He looked heavenly, naturally, in slightly faded black jeans and a white T-s.h.i.+rt, with an open, checked flannel s.h.i.+rt over the top.