A Desirable Residence by Sophie Kinsella, Madeleine Wickham Page B

were squashed into some appalling little space at the top of that tutorial college. No wonder the poor woman was upset.
    ‘Why did you do it?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Move away from here?’
    ‘We had to,’ said Liz. She turned to him. ‘It was too good an opportunity to miss,’ she said, with more energy in her voice. ‘We’ve got the chance to really make something of that place. It’s got such potential. We’re going to expand into modern languages, run courses in the holidays, gradually do the place up so it looks really smart . . .’ She ran a hand through her hair with a determined gesture and looked briefly around the room. ‘Of course I miss this house,’ she said, with a slow emphasis. ‘I’m only human. But you’ve got to think ahead. Things will get better. We won’t be in that little flat forever.’
    ‘It must be difficult,’ said Marcus cautiously. Liz swept round and fixed him with suddenly burning eyes.
    ‘Of course it’s difficult,’ she said, her voice rising slightly. ‘It’s hellishly difficult. And sometimes I wonder why we didn’t just stay put, with our nice comfortable lives. But, you know, life’s about more than just being comfortable, isn’t it?’
    ‘Well, yes,’ said Marcus. ‘I suppose it is.’ He gazed at Liz’s bright eyes and animated face, and couldn’t help but feel impressed.
    She walked over to a patch of sunlight on the floor, and sat down in it luxuriously, like a cat.
    ‘I always liked this room,’ she said, closing her eyes. Marcus cleared his throat uncomfortably and walked over to the window.
    ‘I can’t see any sign of Ginny,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I should phone the office.’
    ‘Perhaps we should open the champagne while we wait,’ said Liz, still with her eyes closed. Marcus frowned.
    ‘Surely you’d like to keep it, and drink it with your husband? And . . .’ What was the daughter’s name? ‘And with Alice?’ Liz opened her eyes.
    ‘What I would really like to do,’ she said deliberately, ‘is to drink it now.’ She held it out to him. Marcus hesitated, and then, giving an inward shrug, began to untwist the metal cap. It was only a bottle, after all. She was entitled to do with it what she liked. And, after that outburst of weeping at the door, it seemed a good idea to go along with whatever she wanted.
    So now they sat companionably against the wall of the bedroom, taking swigs from the bottle. Every now and then, Marcus got up to check whether Ginny had arrived yet, but after a while, he gave up. Perhaps she’d got the day wrong, or the address, or had been held up by some catastrophe. At any rate, it was unlikely she would turn up at this late stage. It would have been sensible for them to give up and go home.
    But Marcus didn’t want to go home. He had begun to enjoy the atmosphere of the tranquil room, the warmth of the sunshine on his face and the cold, sparkling champagne in his mouth. Liz had insisted he share the bottle with her, although he was pretty sure he’d only drunk about half the amount that she had. Nevertheless, it was enough to have given him a pleasant glow. Liz also looked as though she was glowing. Her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed and there were two vivid spots of colour on her cheeks.
    Marcus looked aimlessly around the room, and became aware again of the square patch of flattened carpet; a testimony to the marital bed which once lay there. Liz and her husband had slept there and woken up there. Argued there. Made love there. They’d made love just feet from where he was sitting. Liz probably made love with the same vigour with which she talked and argued. And afterwards, she probably lay, head thrown back and cheeks flushed, just as she was doing now. The thought began to excite him. He gave another surreptitious glance at her pink cheeks.
    Marcus had promised to be faithful to Anthea, forsaking all others, as long as they both should live. And, in his own mind, he had kept that promise,