‘I’m the one who should be thanking you.’ He sounded amused. ‘I can’t believe what a difference you’ve made to the place.’
Pru felt herself going shy. Hopeless when it came to compliments, she mumbled her goodbyes and rang off.
He had definitely sounded nice though. Maybe when the time came to start thinking about a divorce she would ask Terry Lambert to handle it.
Oh God. Divorce.
Just not yet, thought Pru, swallowing panic. Not yet.
* * *
Liza’s editor was pleased with her. Beaming, he emptied the folder of letters on to his desk.
‘Great stuff, sweetheart. Controversy, that’s what we want. You caused quite a stir, you know.
And these are only the ones who’ve bothered to write.’
Liza picked up a couple of the letters, skimmed briefly through them – one, she noticed, was addressed to Ms Super-bitch – and dropped them back on to the desk.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Bloody print ‘em.’ He reached for his jacket. ‘Come on, Superbitch, I’ll buy you lunch.’
Dulcie was doing her make-up when she saw Patrick’s car pull up outside. She smiled at herself in the mirror, confident that she had never looked better. This was what six days of extensive sunbedding, a brilliant ultra-short haircut, an even shorter lime-green dress and the promise, at long last, of a bit of serious fun did for you.
She sincerely hoped Patrick would notice and be impressed. He rang the doorbell like a stranger.
‘What happened to your key?’ said Dulcie, puzzled, as she opened the door.
He was wearing a deep-blue polo shirt and jeans. Despite the sun blazing down, Patrick never wore dark glasses, which he regarded as an affectation. Sunglasses were for cissies, according to Patrick.
Dulcie, who whipped hers on at practically the first hint of daylight, owned at least a dozen pairs.
They made her feel so Hollywood.
‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.’ Patrick followed her into the hall.
‘Nothing to interrupt.’ Yet, thought Dulcie, because you never knew, today could be the day.
‘Anyway, I just need to pick up my dinner jacket. Won’t be a sec.’
We might be separated but we can still be friendly, Dulcie reminded herself. She waited at the foot of the stairs for him to come back down.
Any man looks good in a dinner jacket. Patrick had always looked gorgeous.
‘Going somewhere nice?’ she asked ultra-casually when he reappeared.
Patrick shrugged. ‘Doubt it. Some charity thing, a dinner-dance.’
‘Not like you to be vague.’ Dulcie gave him a teasing look. ‘Come to that, it’s not like you to go to dinner- dances. You’ve always been far too busy.’
Dig, dig.
Looking deeply uncomfortable, Patrick shifted from one foot to the other.
Dulcie’s intrigue deepened.
‘Is it work? Or are you seeing someone else?’
His dark eyes narrowed as he gazed with intense concentration out of the hall window. Finally he said, ‘It’s allowed, isn’t it? You were the one who didn’t want us to be married any more.’
Astonished, feeling as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, Dulcie gasped, ‘You are seeing someone else?’
Patrick shook his head.
‘I’m not. I’ve just been invited to this thing tonight. I’m going with a girl.’
‘Who’ — Dulcie cleared her throat — ‘who is she, anyone I know?’
Another shake. Followed by a sigh.
‘Look, it feels pretty weird being single again. I’m not used to it yet. All this is down to Bibi, if you must know.’
‘Oh.’ Dulcie was confused.
‘Some chap invited her to the dance. She hasn’t been out much since . .. well, since James left ...
so she was um-ing and ah-ing a bit. Anyway, this chap happened to mention he had a daughter.
Bibi said something — God knows what — aboutme. He said how about if the four of us went together ... and the next thing you know it’s all bloody well arranged.’
The look on his face said it all. Dulcie started to giggle.
‘You’re double-dating. With your mother.’
‘Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny.’
‘This girl could be awful. She could be a complete dog.’
