Shape of Snakes

been able to tolerate ... being a laughingstock.

'I know and I'm sorry,' I said cheerfully. 'It took longer than I thought. Do you remember Wendy Stanhope, the vicar's wife? Wendy ... Libby ... Jock ... Sam.' I raised inquiring eyebrows at the men as they stood up to shake Wendy's hand. 'Did you get the sandwiches? Because we- are-starving!'

Jock pulled open his fridge door with a flourish. 'All here,' he said, removing plates to the table, and handing a bottle of chilled Chardonnay to Sam.

'We were reliably informed this was your favorite,' said Sam, filling a glass and handing it to Wendy. 'I should think you've earned it, haven't you?'

She chuckled happily as she took a huge swig. 'Goodness me, no! I was just the chorus to your wife's dazzling coloratura. You must be very proud of her, Sam.'

'Oh, I am,' he said, handing me a glass before shepherding Wendy to a chair. 'She's a bit of a cracker, too, don't you think?' He dropped me a sly wink. 'Just as beautiful as the day we married.'

I watched Libby's mouth turn down as she rejected the glass Sam tried to offer her and wondered how much of this she would be able to take before she sunk her talons into my cheeks. 'I'm driving,' she said curtly.

'What do you think of Jock's beard?' I asked, stationing my back against a worktop from where I could look at her. 'It's him, don't you think?'

'She hates it,' said Jock, giving it a stroke. 'Says it makes me look seedy.'

Libby gave an irritated smile. 'We've been there, done it. Also Sam's baldness ... Dorchester ... Leicester ... the weather...' She drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. 'You promised me 12:30 so that I could be back on the motor-way before the Friday rush hour begins,' she said sharply. 'You knew I wanted to be home before Jim.'

'Call him and tell him you're going to be late,' I said reasonably.

'That's what we've been suggesting,' murmured Jock.

'I can't. I don't want him knowing I've left the girls on their own.'

'Couldn't they have gone to friends?'

'Not without questions being asked,' she snapped, 'and I really didn't want to go into long explanations about why this ridiculous meeting was necessary. Can we just get on with it?'

I ignored the request. 'You should have let us come to Leicester,' I said disingenuously. Ah, me! If looks could kill...

'It's not as though Jock's about to stake a prior claim or anything,' I went on, reaching for his hand and swinging it lightly at my side, cementing alliances, ranging my troops. 'He prefers them younger and blonder these days.'

Jock gave a snort of laughter. 'Too bloody right,' he agreed unkindly. 'And never with marriage in mind. That's one mistake I don't plan to repeat.'

It was cruel but I have no conscience about it. If I'd known of the affair at the time, I'd have slapped the smile off her face before nailing my husband's bollocks to the wall. But a slow revenge is just as satisfying. I was sure it would drive her to distraction if she was forced to make banal small talk with her ex-lovers-her nature was too impatient and too self-centered for anything else-and neither Sam nor Jock was equipped to deal with a frustrated woman. They had failed dismally in the past, and I couldn't believe much had changed in the meantime.

Her lips thinned. 'It's got nothing to do with Jock,' she said tightly. 'Jim thinks Amy's too young to look after her sisters. But she's not. She's almost fourteen.'

'It's only natural,' said Wendy idly, protruding long fingers like forceps to select a tuna and cucumber sandwich. 'An untended nest and a hungry brood suggests to the male that his partner has flown.' She smiled at Libby. 'I suppose he's found it empty before, has he?'

There was a minor hiatus while Libby looked daggers at her and Wendy bit into her sandwich. The rest of us buried our noses in our wineglasses. To be honest, I wasn't remotely surprised that she was still a player but it was a shock to the men who both assumed, naively, that her passionate nature could be tamed by motherhood and a career. They lowered their heads to stare at their feet, and it was so perfect an example of the double standards that operate between men and women that I couldn't help smiling to myself.

Of course Libby saw it. I was her only real enemy so I was bound to be the focus of her attention. She bridled immediately. 'You think you know it all, don't you?' she flashed.

'No,' I murmured. 'I was completely wrong about you. I thought you had more dignity than to go sniffing after other people's husbands.'

'Oh, please!' she said scathingly. 'Any sniffing that was done was done by Sam. He couldn't get unzipped quick enough when the opportunity arose. Or is that forgiven and forgotten because he's served twenty years of your downcast looks and injured pride?'

Sam stepped forward angrily but I shook my head at him. This was my fight and I'd waited a long time for it. 'If you want a slanging match, Libby, then I'm happy to oblige ... Sam and Jock, too, I should imagine. But if you're as desperate to get away as you say then I suggest we sort these statements.'

She hated her position of weakness, but she had the sense to force a smile. 'All right. What do you want to know?'

'Which is correct? That you'd had a bath and were doing the laundry when Sam arrived? Or that you'd done the cooking and were watching television?'

She shook her head in convincing perplexity. 'I honestly don't know,' she said slowly. 'It's so long ago I've forgotten most of the details. I just wrote down what I normally did at that time-cooking then catching the news- but if Sam's positive-?' She broke off to look at him. 'Do you remember it that well?'

'Yes.'

She was disconcerted by the bluntness of his answer. 'I don't see how you can. It's not as if it was the only time you came to the house looking for sex.'