sauntered off towards the lift.
“Shall we go into my office?” Simon followed the long legs and short skirt out of reception and past Liz’s discreetly averted head. He shut the door.
“Would you like a drink?”
A superior shake of the head. “It’s a little early for me.”
Simon shrugged and went over to the small bar in the corner. He hesitated over whisky, sighed, and poured a glass of Perrier. Caroline arranged herself at the far end of the leather couch and puffed on a cigarette—short, cross little puffs with a toss of the head when she exhaled.
“When did you start smoking?”
“I’ve had a terribly upsetting time. Those bloody builders every day.” She tapped ash from her cigarette with a red-tipped finger. Her nail varnish was an exact match for her lipstick. Her crocodile shoes matched her crocodile bag. The dark tan suit of fine wool set off her lighter brown hair, and the silk shirt picked up the distinctive pale blue of her eyes. Simon thought she’d probably spent a hard morning getting dressed for a three-hour lunch at San Lorenzo before an exhausting session with her hairdresser. He was surprised and rather pleased that he no longer found her at all attractive.
He sat down at the other end of the couch. “Well?”
“I thought it was more civilised to come and see you instead of going through the lawyers.”
“We’ve already been through the lawyers.” Simon sipped his drink. “Remember? Or do you want to see the bills?”
Caroline sighed. “I’m trying to be reasonable, Simon.There’s no need to jump down my throat.” She looked at him and pulled at her skirt until it almost covered her knees. Don’t think you’re going to jump anywhere else, either.
“Okay, let’s be reasonable.”
“It’s the house. They just haven’t stuck to their estimates, none of them. The curtains, painting, the kitchen—God, the kitchen!—it’s been an absolute nightmare. You’ve no idea.”
“Sounds just like last time.”
Caroline stubbed out her cigarette. “It’s not funny. Every tiny thing has been more than they said it was going to be. I mean, lots more.” She widened her eyes as she looked at Simon, a sure sign, he remembered, that news of extravagance was about to follow. “And now they’re all wanting to be paid.”
“Well,” said Simon, “it’s one of those irritating little habits they have.” He wondered how long it would be before she mentioned a figure, before the veneer of strained politeness would wear off to be replaced by threats or tears or hysterics. He felt oddly detached, and bored. It had all happened dozens of times since they’d been separated.
Caroline mistook his calm for acceptance and smiled. She did have nice teeth, Simon thought, even and beautifully capped by some bandit in New York for $25,000. “I knew it would be best to come and see you,” she said. “I knew you’d understand.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say exactly, because there are still one or two—”
“Roughly.”
“Well. Thirty thousand. Thirty-five at the most.”
Simon went back to the bar and refilled his glass. Helooked at Caroline, who was lighting another cigarette. “Thirty-five at the most,” he said. “Let me just get this clear. I bought you the house. You and your lawyers suggested a budget for doing it up. I agreed to the budget. You agreed to the budget. Am I right so far?”
“It was only supposed to be—”
“It was supposed to be a budget. You know what a budget is, don’t you? It’s a finite amount of money.”
Caroline mangled her cigarette in the ashtray. “There’s no need to talk to me like one of your dreary little executives.”
“Why not? You talk to me as if I was a cash dispenser.”
“Thirty-five thousand is nothing to you. You’re rich. My lawyers said you got off lightly. They could have—”
“Your lawyers are a bunch of greedy, dishonest bastards who pad their bills and expect me
“Shall we go into my office?” Simon followed the long legs and short skirt out of reception and past Liz’s discreetly averted head. He shut the door.
“Would you like a drink?”
A superior shake of the head. “It’s a little early for me.”
Simon shrugged and went over to the small bar in the corner. He hesitated over whisky, sighed, and poured a glass of Perrier. Caroline arranged herself at the far end of the leather couch and puffed on a cigarette—short, cross little puffs with a toss of the head when she exhaled.
“When did you start smoking?”
“I’ve had a terribly upsetting time. Those bloody builders every day.” She tapped ash from her cigarette with a red-tipped finger. Her nail varnish was an exact match for her lipstick. Her crocodile shoes matched her crocodile bag. The dark tan suit of fine wool set off her lighter brown hair, and the silk shirt picked up the distinctive pale blue of her eyes. Simon thought she’d probably spent a hard morning getting dressed for a three-hour lunch at San Lorenzo before an exhausting session with her hairdresser. He was surprised and rather pleased that he no longer found her at all attractive.
He sat down at the other end of the couch. “Well?”
“I thought it was more civilised to come and see you instead of going through the lawyers.”
“We’ve already been through the lawyers.” Simon sipped his drink. “Remember? Or do you want to see the bills?”
Caroline sighed. “I’m trying to be reasonable, Simon.There’s no need to jump down my throat.” She looked at him and pulled at her skirt until it almost covered her knees. Don’t think you’re going to jump anywhere else, either.
“Okay, let’s be reasonable.”
“It’s the house. They just haven’t stuck to their estimates, none of them. The curtains, painting, the kitchen—God, the kitchen!—it’s been an absolute nightmare. You’ve no idea.”
“Sounds just like last time.”
Caroline stubbed out her cigarette. “It’s not funny. Every tiny thing has been more than they said it was going to be. I mean, lots more.” She widened her eyes as she looked at Simon, a sure sign, he remembered, that news of extravagance was about to follow. “And now they’re all wanting to be paid.”
“Well,” said Simon, “it’s one of those irritating little habits they have.” He wondered how long it would be before she mentioned a figure, before the veneer of strained politeness would wear off to be replaced by threats or tears or hysterics. He felt oddly detached, and bored. It had all happened dozens of times since they’d been separated.
Caroline mistook his calm for acceptance and smiled. She did have nice teeth, Simon thought, even and beautifully capped by some bandit in New York for $25,000. “I knew it would be best to come and see you,” she said. “I knew you’d understand.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say exactly, because there are still one or two—”
“Roughly.”
“Well. Thirty thousand. Thirty-five at the most.”
Simon went back to the bar and refilled his glass. Helooked at Caroline, who was lighting another cigarette. “Thirty-five at the most,” he said. “Let me just get this clear. I bought you the house. You and your lawyers suggested a budget for doing it up. I agreed to the budget. You agreed to the budget. Am I right so far?”
“It was only supposed to be—”
“It was supposed to be a budget. You know what a budget is, don’t you? It’s a finite amount of money.”
Caroline mangled her cigarette in the ashtray. “There’s no need to talk to me like one of your dreary little executives.”
“Why not? You talk to me as if I was a cash dispenser.”
“Thirty-five thousand is nothing to you. You’re rich. My lawyers said you got off lightly. They could have—”
“Your lawyers are a bunch of greedy, dishonest bastards who pad their bills and expect me
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