I smoked two cigarettes on the trot, while the music poured over me. Then, when the first movement ended, I strode into the hall and dialled Phil’s number.
“Hello?”
“Oh. Phil? It’s Ed.”
“Eddie!” His voice was the same, hail-fellow-well-met. “You do realise this is the first time you’ve rung me?” I smarted that he could put me on the back foot so easily. He was right, of course—I hadn’t. “What’s up?”
I took a deep breath. “I want you to get me into The Sands.”
He exhaled, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, old boy. This is sudden, isn’t it? What’s up? Tired of slumming it? Or just missing me?”
I remembered the way he reacted whenever I tried to be affectionate and realised he was teasing me because he could, because it was dangerous and because he knew me too well. “I’d like to see more of you,” I said carefully, but I wasn’t careful enough, for he leapt on the double entendre with schoolboy glee.
“I bet you would.”
“Phil.”
“Oh, don’t be so stuffy, Eddie, you know I’m only joking. Why don’t you come over here on Saturday? I’ll take you over there and we can fill in some forms and schmooze another member into speaking for you. It’s pricey, Eddie, you know that.”
“You let me worry about that.”
“Will do. Your funeral expenses. See you, then—about eleven?” There was a silence. “Eddie? You’re all right?”
“Yes,” I said, taking a small victory that I’d made him mildly concerned. “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bring your cheque-book.”
“I will.” I put the phone down, feeling reckless and happy.
I poured a brandy for myself and a Cointreau for Valerie, putting it next to her chair for when she came in, and I justified my decision by putting it down as a business decision—something that would benefit my career. In that way it was a viable expense. What I didn’t listen to was the little voice telling me that I should have discussed it with my wife first.
“Who was that?” Valerie asked as she sank gracefully into her chair and curled her legs up under her.
“Phil.”
“Oh, how lovely. It’s about time you two patched it up.”
I frowned at her. “What do you mean? We hadn’t fallen out.”
“Darling,” she said, “you’ve been like a bear with a sore head since he moved and didn’t contact you. You could have rung him anytime, but you’re stubborn and had to wait until he rang you. You’re like a schoolboy sometimes, I swear.”
“You never said anything.”
“It was between you and him,” she said. “I knew you were pining over him. I wondered why you didn’t take the earlier train, if you wanted to keep in touch.”
“I’m not pining!” I said, stung and mildly guilty. I changed the subject a little. “Don’t you miss Claire?”
“Not so much,” she said. “I had an established circle before Claire came along. And, unlike you, I am capable of picking the phone up from time to time.”
I grinned, then. My mood had lightened, helped, no doubt, by the brandy. I thought about inviting her over onto the settee, but I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Besides, she might have started talking about children again. We sat in companionable silence for a while, and I didn’t even complain when she changed the music for the television. Patrick Moore regaled us with something about radiation belts around the earth and, after the news, we went to bed.
That night Valerie was affectionate and, to complete the perfect husband behaviour set throughout the evening, I made love to her, but, despite a valiant attempt and pounding until we were both sore, nothing happened. I wanted to ask her to suck me, or at least to bring me off in her hands, but I couldn’t ask it of her. She’d question it, I knew, wonder where I had learned of such things, and probably would jump to the wrong conclusion. So, as so many other times in our married life, I pulled the unfilled rubber from my cock and disposed of it. Valerie hugged me and said it didn’t matter, but I wasn’t fooled by her kittenish compliance; I was being treated to a temporary cease-fire. I had no doubt that the battle would continue on another front, another time.
I know that it is pointless to write this now. If I’d told Alex everything, would he have been revolted? Perhaps I should have spoken about her in more detail, made him understand a little more about our lives. How could a married man explain to a teenager? Would it have mattered if I’d done so?
+ + +
Saturday was cloudy but warm, and Valerie had planned a day in London for her and the twins. The zoo, then shopping for new blazers and shoes. The time between waking and setting off was filled with headache-inducing chaos and excitement. It seemed the whole household was in the bedroom and I had about twenty children, at least.
“Mother!” John yelled, as he thundered downstairs for the sixteenth time, “Do you think we’ll have time to see it all?”
“I doubt we’ll see it all, dear,” Valerie called, brushing Mary’s hair before plaiting it.
“He just wants to see the chimps,” Mary said, “so he’ll know how to behave when we get to Harrods.”
“That’s not nice,” Valerie said, moving across to kiss me. “If he behaves like a chimp, we’ll leave him in the pet department.”
I was battling with the laces of my golfing shoes, which were knotted solid. She took the shoes from me and, even with the length of her nails, she conquered the laces in three deft movements.
“Thanks,” I said, gratefully, “What would I do without you?” Which made her smile, even if it was only a pale ghost of one. I wanted to
