throaty chug of an approaching cab. And I expected to hear it go past me, but instead I heard the squeal of its brakes. I opened my eyes. It had stopped right outside Ed's house, and now the door was clicking open like the wing of a shiny black beetle, and Mary-Claire Grey stepped out. She paid the driver, then tottered up to Ed's front door, her stilettos clacking up the path like sniper fire. And I was waiting, stomach churning, for her to lift her hand to the brass bell and ring it, when instead she opened her bag, took out a bunch of keys then proceeded to unlock the door. The
bitch
! She was letting herself into Ed's house—
my
marital home—for all the world as though she
lived
there! Which she quite clearly did.
'She's moved in, ' I breathed, outraged, as the door closed behind her. 'She's known him three months and she's already moved in. ' Ignoring the small voice telling me that I had moved in with Ed after only
one
month, I started the car and pulled out of the space, hands trembling like winter leaves. I was so distressed I almost pranged the car in front, then with a sickening, tightening sensation around my sternum, I drove away. Dizzy now with a blend of misery, panic and nausea I sped off to meet Henry at Ghillie's on the New Kings Road.
'Rose!' he exclaimed, as I was shown to his table at the back. Still feeling sick and wobbly I allowed myself to be enveloped in one of Henry's familiar, bone-crushing hugs. 'It's
great
to see you again, ' he said planting a trademark fat kiss on my cheek. 'You're a major media star these days!' I began to feel better.
'And you're a Major—full stop!'
'About bloody time!' he laughed. 'But then I always was a late developer, ' he added with a good-natured smile.
Now, as I had my one glass of champagne, my stress levels plummeted from their Himalayan heights and began to stroll calmly around at Base Camp. So what if Mary-Claire was living with Ed? It didn't make any difference to me. In fact it'll make it easier for me to get over him I thought, knowing that he's moved on so fast. I'm not bothered about Ed, I said to myself. Ed's over. The credits on our marriage have rolled. As things turned out, it wasn't the major motion picture it was meant to be—it was only a short.
As Henry chatted away to me I gazed at his handsome face. His sandy hair was retreating a little, but he looked much the same as before. The lids above the forget-me-not-blue eyes were a tiny bit crinklier and there were two parallel lines etched on his brow. He'd put on a little weight since I'd last seen him, and there was an incipient jowl beneath his square jaw. But he looked so attractively manly in his sports jacket, smart cords and polished brogues.
Henry and I had met at a barbecue in Fulham five years before. We were involved for a while, but it didn't go anywhere— well, he was always away. Which, funnily enough, was exactly the same problem I'd had with my previous boyfriend, Tom. He was a pilot with British Airways flying the Australian route; we'd had a few nice stopovers here and there but otherwise things didn't really take off. Anyway, Henry was posted to Cyprus for a year, then Belize, then Gibraltar, so our affair soon fizzled out. But we'd remained in touch intermittently and I'd retained a soft spot for him the size of a swamp. It was two years since I'd last seen him and as we ate we reminisced about old times.
'Do you remember the fun we had re-enacting famous battles with your old Action Men?' I asked fondly.
'With you doing the explosions!'
'Playing Warships in bed. '
'You always beat me. '
'Making Lego tanks. '
'Oh
yes
!
'Watching reruns of
Colditz
!
'And
The World At War
!
'We had fun didn't we?'
'Ra-ther. '
He told me about the NATO manoeuvres he'd been on, the Balkan skirmishes—'Fabulous stuff!' His stint with the U. N. Peacekeeping force in Bosnia—'bloody hairy!'; a recent tour of duty in the Gulf. Then I told him about my marital battles, and about
bitch
! She was letting herself into Ed's house—
my
marital home—for all the world as though she
lived
there! Which she quite clearly did.
'She's moved in, ' I breathed, outraged, as the door closed behind her. 'She's known him three months and she's already moved in. ' Ignoring the small voice telling me that I had moved in with Ed after only
one
month, I started the car and pulled out of the space, hands trembling like winter leaves. I was so distressed I almost pranged the car in front, then with a sickening, tightening sensation around my sternum, I drove away. Dizzy now with a blend of misery, panic and nausea I sped off to meet Henry at Ghillie's on the New Kings Road.
'Rose!' he exclaimed, as I was shown to his table at the back. Still feeling sick and wobbly I allowed myself to be enveloped in one of Henry's familiar, bone-crushing hugs. 'It's
great
to see you again, ' he said planting a trademark fat kiss on my cheek. 'You're a major media star these days!' I began to feel better.
'And you're a Major—full stop!'
'About bloody time!' he laughed. 'But then I always was a late developer, ' he added with a good-natured smile.
Now, as I had my one glass of champagne, my stress levels plummeted from their Himalayan heights and began to stroll calmly around at Base Camp. So what if Mary-Claire was living with Ed? It didn't make any difference to me. In fact it'll make it easier for me to get over him I thought, knowing that he's moved on so fast. I'm not bothered about Ed, I said to myself. Ed's over. The credits on our marriage have rolled. As things turned out, it wasn't the major motion picture it was meant to be—it was only a short.
As Henry chatted away to me I gazed at his handsome face. His sandy hair was retreating a little, but he looked much the same as before. The lids above the forget-me-not-blue eyes were a tiny bit crinklier and there were two parallel lines etched on his brow. He'd put on a little weight since I'd last seen him, and there was an incipient jowl beneath his square jaw. But he looked so attractively manly in his sports jacket, smart cords and polished brogues.
Henry and I had met at a barbecue in Fulham five years before. We were involved for a while, but it didn't go anywhere— well, he was always away. Which, funnily enough, was exactly the same problem I'd had with my previous boyfriend, Tom. He was a pilot with British Airways flying the Australian route; we'd had a few nice stopovers here and there but otherwise things didn't really take off. Anyway, Henry was posted to Cyprus for a year, then Belize, then Gibraltar, so our affair soon fizzled out. But we'd remained in touch intermittently and I'd retained a soft spot for him the size of a swamp. It was two years since I'd last seen him and as we ate we reminisced about old times.
'Do you remember the fun we had re-enacting famous battles with your old Action Men?' I asked fondly.
'With you doing the explosions!'
'Playing Warships in bed. '
'You always beat me. '
'Making Lego tanks. '
'Oh
yes
!
'Watching reruns of
Colditz
!
'And
The World At War
!
'We had fun didn't we?'
'Ra-ther. '
He told me about the NATO manoeuvres he'd been on, the Balkan skirmishes—'Fabulous stuff!' His stint with the U. N. Peacekeeping force in Bosnia—'bloody hairy!'; a recent tour of duty in the Gulf. Then I told him about my marital battles, and about
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