A Most Desirable Marriage by Hilary Boyd Page A

cleared the table and made their way up to bed, she realized it was after eleven.
    *
    ‘Oh . . . my . . . God. That boy is so super-cute. He sort of reminds me of that gorgeous actor . . . Chiwetel Ejitor. You know, the guy in that brilliant slave movie.’ Donna had dropped in for coffee and met Travis on his way out for a run. He’d shaken Donna’s hand and said, with a totally straight face, ‘Pleased to meet you, ma’am.’ Then flashed an innocent grin at Joanna, who couldn’t help laughing.
    ‘Ejiofor. Chiwetel Ejiofor.’
    ‘That’s him.’
    ‘You think Travis is cute?’
    ‘Umm, yes.’ Her friend eyed her for a moment. ‘You mean you hadn’t noticed?’
    ‘He’s Nicky’s friend.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘So . . . well, you don’t see your son’s friends in that light.’
    ‘Darling, I see all men in that light. Friends of whoever. Men are men, and they’re either cute or not cute. And that boy is
cute
.’
    Jo held her hands up. ‘OK, I hear you. Can we drop the subject?’
    ‘No need to be touchy. I was just making an observation.’
    ‘I’m not being touchy . . . OK, well maybe I am a little. But he’s a nice guy and it’s helpful having him here . . . bringing in a bit of cash. I just don’t want to complicate things with you hitting on him, that’s all.’
    Donna pouted. ‘I’d never do that . . . without your permission that is.’
    They both laughed. ‘He’s almost young enough to be your son,’ Jo pointed out.
    ‘And yours.’
    ‘Yes, but
I
realize that. I’m not sure you do.’
    Her friend gave an amused shrug. ‘Age shall not wither us, nor the years condemn.’
    ‘You’re muddling up Cleopatra with Laurence Binyon.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
.’
    ‘Whatever. But I refuse to be withered or wearied by age or anyone else for that matter. Not under any circumstances.’
    Donna took a sip of the coffee Jo had made, pulling a face at the weediness of the brew as she always did.
    ‘So how long’s he staying?’
    ‘Until the play’s over I suppose. A couple of months?’
    ‘Right. So . . .’ Donna hesitated. ‘Did the agent come round? I saw Foxtons-type totty hovering on the patio yesterday morning,’
    ‘I wouldn’t call her “totty” exactly, but yes. She says I’ve got to paint the kitchen and sitting room.’
    Donna groaned. ‘They always say that. Are you going to?’
    ‘I want to get the most I can . . . not being greedy, but if we’re both going to get a flat and have some left over to live on—’
    ‘You can’t be more than five minutes from me, remember?’ Donna dropped her head in her hands. ‘Christ, I can’t believe you’re not going to be next door any more. What will I
do
?’
    ‘Don’t.’
    ‘Are you totally positive that you can’t keep it? Just for the time being. I mean, isn’t it poor diddums’ problem if he can’t afford to rent a flat?’
    ‘It is . . . but I suppose it’s mine too.’
    ‘Yes, but you’re not responsible for Lawrence’s finances any more. Obviously he’ll get half in the end, but not before he’s filed for divorce and gone through the courts. That could take
years
. Why are you kow-towing to him like this? Hasn’t he done enough to ruin your life without uprooting you from your beloved home as well?’
    There was silence in the room. Jo winced at the word ‘divorce’, although she realized that was what it would come to eventually.
    ‘I don’t want to fight with him.’
    ‘Doesn’t have to be hostile. But if he wants half of the house, you should make him work for it. That’ll take for ever, by which time things might have changed for you. You could have the hots for a millionaire toyboy with a yacht in Monte Carlo and not give a fig about the house by then.’
    Jo laughed. ‘I wish.’ Although she didn’t. The thought of some perma-tanned euro smoothie tossing his money about in a yachting blazer and pressed white jeans wasn’t doing it for her. She wanted her husband