south
west London, the Audi estate and the children, to whom John was allowed access one weekend in four. He would have picked them up from school earlier that afternoon, and, as usual, he would return
them to the flat in Putney around seven on Sunday evening.
Diana would go to almost any lengths to avoid being left on her own in the flat when they weren’t around. Although she regularly grumbled about being landed with the job of bringing up two
children without a father, she missed them greatly the moment they were out of sight.
She hadn’t taken a lover and she didn’t sleep around. None of the senior staff at the office had ever gone further than asking her out to lunch. Perhaps because only three of them
were unmarried – and not without reason. The one person she might have considered having a relationship with had made it very clear that he only wanted to spend the
night
with her,
not the days.
In any case, Diana had decided long ago that if she was to be taken seriously as the company’s first female director, an office affair – however casual or short-lived – could
only end in tears. Men are so vain, she thought. A woman only had to make one mistake and she was immediately labelled as loose. Then every other man in the office either smirks behind your back,
or treats your thigh like the arm of his chair.
Diana groaned as she came to a halt at yet another red light. In twenty minutes she had only covered a couple of miles. She opened the glove box on the passenger side and fumbled in the dark for
a cassette. She found one and pressed it into the slot, hoping it would be Pavarotti. Instead, she was greeted by the forceful tones of Gloria Gaynor assuring her ‘I will survive’. She
smiled and thought about her friend Daniel, as the light changed to green.
She and Daniel had read Economics together at Bristol University in the early 1980s. They had been friends but never lovers. Then Daniel met Rachael, who was a year below them, and from that
moment he had never looked at another woman. They married the day he graduated, and after they returned from their honeymoon Daniel took over the management of his father’s farm in
Bedfordshire.
Three children had followed soon after each other, and Diana had been proud when she was asked to be godmother to Sophie, the eldest. Daniel and Rachael had now been married for twelve years,
and Diana felt confident that they wouldn’t be disappointing
their
parents with any suggestion of a divorce. Although they thought she led an exciting and fulfilling life in the
City, Diana often envied their gentle and uncomplicated lives.
She was often asked to spend the weekend with them in the country. But for every two or three invitations Daniel gave, she only accepted one – not because she wouldn’t have liked to
join them more, but because since her divorce she had no desire to take advantage of their kindness.
Although she enjoyed her work, it had been a bloody week. Two contracts had fallen through, her son James had been dropped from the school football team, and Caroline had never stopped telling
her that her
father
didn’t mind her watching television when she ought to be doing her homework.
Another traffic light changed to red.
It took Diana nearly an hour to travel the seven miles out of the city, and when she reached the first dual carriageway, she glanced up at the A1 sign. It was more out of habit than to seek
guidance, because she knew every yard of the road from her office to the farm. She tried to increase her speed, but it was quite impossible, as both lanes stayed stubbornly crowded.
‘Damn.’ She had forgotten to get them a present, even a decent bottle of claret. ‘Damn,’ she said again. Daniel and Rachael always did the giving. She began to wonder if
she could pick something up on the way, then remembered there was nothing but service stations between here and the farm. She couldn’t turn up with yet another box of chocolates
west London, the Audi estate and the children, to whom John was allowed access one weekend in four. He would have picked them up from school earlier that afternoon, and, as usual, he would return
them to the flat in Putney around seven on Sunday evening.
Diana would go to almost any lengths to avoid being left on her own in the flat when they weren’t around. Although she regularly grumbled about being landed with the job of bringing up two
children without a father, she missed them greatly the moment they were out of sight.
She hadn’t taken a lover and she didn’t sleep around. None of the senior staff at the office had ever gone further than asking her out to lunch. Perhaps because only three of them
were unmarried – and not without reason. The one person she might have considered having a relationship with had made it very clear that he only wanted to spend the
night
with her,
not the days.
In any case, Diana had decided long ago that if she was to be taken seriously as the company’s first female director, an office affair – however casual or short-lived – could
only end in tears. Men are so vain, she thought. A woman only had to make one mistake and she was immediately labelled as loose. Then every other man in the office either smirks behind your back,
or treats your thigh like the arm of his chair.
Diana groaned as she came to a halt at yet another red light. In twenty minutes she had only covered a couple of miles. She opened the glove box on the passenger side and fumbled in the dark for
a cassette. She found one and pressed it into the slot, hoping it would be Pavarotti. Instead, she was greeted by the forceful tones of Gloria Gaynor assuring her ‘I will survive’. She
smiled and thought about her friend Daniel, as the light changed to green.
She and Daniel had read Economics together at Bristol University in the early 1980s. They had been friends but never lovers. Then Daniel met Rachael, who was a year below them, and from that
moment he had never looked at another woman. They married the day he graduated, and after they returned from their honeymoon Daniel took over the management of his father’s farm in
Bedfordshire.
Three children had followed soon after each other, and Diana had been proud when she was asked to be godmother to Sophie, the eldest. Daniel and Rachael had now been married for twelve years,
and Diana felt confident that they wouldn’t be disappointing
their
parents with any suggestion of a divorce. Although they thought she led an exciting and fulfilling life in the
City, Diana often envied their gentle and uncomplicated lives.
She was often asked to spend the weekend with them in the country. But for every two or three invitations Daniel gave, she only accepted one – not because she wouldn’t have liked to
join them more, but because since her divorce she had no desire to take advantage of their kindness.
Although she enjoyed her work, it had been a bloody week. Two contracts had fallen through, her son James had been dropped from the school football team, and Caroline had never stopped telling
her that her
father
didn’t mind her watching television when she ought to be doing her homework.
Another traffic light changed to red.
It took Diana nearly an hour to travel the seven miles out of the city, and when she reached the first dual carriageway, she glanced up at the A1 sign. It was more out of habit than to seek
guidance, because she knew every yard of the road from her office to the farm. She tried to increase her speed, but it was quite impossible, as both lanes stayed stubbornly crowded.
‘Damn.’ She had forgotten to get them a present, even a decent bottle of claret. ‘Damn,’ she said again. Daniel and Rachael always did the giving. She began to wonder if
she could pick something up on the way, then remembered there was nothing but service stations between here and the farm. She couldn’t turn up with yet another box of chocolates
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