anything I can do for you ...’
‘That’s an easy one,’ Nicky said promptly. ‘Marry Kit.’ Liza burst out laughing.
‘Any particular reason?’
Nicky’s smile was mischievous as she waved an arm, encompassing the restaurant.
‘Then you can hold your wedding reception here.’
Dulcie, sunbathing in the back garden on Tuesday afternoon, heard the sound of a familiar car engine. When it switched off in front of the house she experienced an odd sensation of deja vu.
Except it wasn’t deja vu, of course; the reason she knew it so well was because she used to hear it all the time.
‘I’m round the back,’ Dulcie yelled when she dimly heard the front door bell being rung. She chucked down her empty crisp packet and licked her fingers. ‘Door’s unlocked, just come through.’
Lying back on the sun-lounger, far too lazy to get up, Dulcie lifted her head and shielded her eyes in order to watch Patrick appear.
When he did, moments later, he was wearing dark-blue chinos and a yellow shirt she hadn’t seen before. She wondered if thingy had bought it for him.
The next thing Dulcie noticed he was wearing was an odd look on his face.
‘Nice shirt.’
‘Don’t you think you should put this on?’ Reaching down and picking up the top half of her pink and purple bikini, Patrick held it towards her.
Dulcie tried not to smile.
‘Why? Will it stop me getting cold?’
‘It’ll keep you decent,’ said Patrick evenly. To her amazement she realised he was keeping his eyes deliberately averted from her breasts.
‘Patrick, you’re my husband! You have seen them before.’
‘Things are different now.’
Gosh, thought Dulcie, he sounded weird. Stunned into obedience, she took the bikini top from him. Damn, there was a mark on it where she’d spilled chocolate ice cream.
Put it on,’ repeated Patrick.
He waited until she had, before looking down at her.
‘Is something wrong?’ Dulcie wondered if this sudden and bizarre obsession with decency meant someone had died.
‘I thought I should come over. There appear to be things we need to sort out.’
‘Things? What things?’
‘The divorce,’ Patrick said quietly, because Dulcie clearly didn’t have a clue.
Dulcie swallowed. She hadn’t actually given it much thought. Okay, it had been her New Year’s resolution but once she’d left Patrick it hadn’t seemed important.
Then another thought struck her. Rather unpleasantly, like malaria.
He wants a divorce so he can marry Claire, Dulcie realised, stunned. And I can’t object because he’s been so nice to me. Now it’s my turn to be nice back .. .
She managed to nod.’Okay.’
‘I’ve spoken to Simon,’ said Patrick. Simon was a solicitor friend of his. ‘Basically, if we want it over quickly and we aren’t going to argue about money, the easiest thing is to go for a no-fault, two-year separation. It’s simple and it costs hardly anything. Are you happy with that?’
Two years, that’s fine, thought Dulcie, suddenly finding it easier to breathe. That was eighteen months away.
‘Fine.’
‘Right. So that’s settled, we can be divorced by September.’ Dulcie sat bolt upright.
‘What about the two years?’
‘All you have to do,’ Patrick explained wearily, ‘is say you’ve been separated for two years.
Then it just goes through.’
‘But that isn’t true! That’s ... lying!’ yelped Dulcie.
‘Oh dear, how terrible. How will we live with ourselves?’ Patrick mocked. ‘Lying. Tut tut, that would never do.’
Dulcie hated it when he was sarcastic. She swallowed her pride and lay back down again. Patrick wanted to be free of her so he could marry Claire. He didn’t want to look at her bare boobs any more, he only wanted to look at Claire’s.
‘How is she?’ said Dulcie, to prove she was a grown-up. ‘Claire?’
‘Fine.’ Patrick nodded briefly. A muscle was going in his jaw. At last he said, ‘And Liam?’
If Claire was fine, Dulcie decided, Liam was more than fine.
‘Very well indeed. Brilliant.’ She nodded strenuously. ‘Great.’
