Something to Hide by Deborah Moggach Page A

table, checking his cellphone for messages.
    â€˜Have you ever paid for sex?’
    Todd’s head rears up. He stares at her. ‘What’s that, honey?’
    â€˜I asked if you’d ever been with a prostitute. In a brothel.’ She leans against the sink. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart. You’re away a long time and a guy has needs.’
    Todd gets up abruptly and leaves the room. She follows him into the lounge.
    â€˜What’s gotten into you?’ he mutters.
    She barks with laughter. You’d be surprised. ‘Nothing.’
    â€˜You find this funny?’
    â€˜Sorry, honey. I just want to know.’
    â€˜You want to know?’ His face reddens. ‘Let me tell you, it’s none of your goddam business!’ His voice rises. ‘I go out there and I’m prepared to die for my country. You do that? Hmm? Know what it’s like to see your pal sent home in a body bag, what’s left of him? That it might be you next time? That you’d never see your kids again? You have any fucking idea?’
    â€˜I’m just asking.’
    â€˜Don’t give me that shit. You want to know so you can beat me up about it.’
    â€˜No I don’t—’
    â€˜Well I’m not fucking telling you. What happens is my business so shut the fuck up.’
    So it’s true. Todd slumps onto the settee, trembling with anger. Lorrie feels a surge of relief. She sits beside him and takes his hand. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t care. That’s the truth.’
    He looks at her, puzzled. ‘So why ask me then?’
    She shrugs. ‘Cos we used to tell each other everything, I guess.’
    There’s a silence. He gazes at her, his thick eyebrows raised. ‘What’s up, honey-bear? You’ve been acting kind of weird lately. Where’s my old girl gone?’
    â€˜I’m here.’ She strokes his fingers, one by one. ‘I apologise. See, I got high this afternoon and I got drunk tonight.’
    â€˜You got high?’
    She gets up and fetches the vase they bought together in Santa Fe. Rummaging inside, she takes out the other spliff.
    â€˜Tyler gave it to me,’ she says. ‘Shall we have a puff now, like the old days?’
    Todd takes a little persuading but finally they light up. They switch on the TV and sit there side by side in a cloud of smoke. When Angie comes downstairs, unable to sleep, they’re slumped against each other, giggling like teenagers.
    Lorrie, in her fuddled state, thinks, why should I be alone in my guilt? Todd and me, we’ve done everything together for fifteen years. Now we’re kind of together on this.
    The logic in this is not entirely clear but hey, what the hell. These are strange days.

Pimlico, London
    THIS TIME, WHEN Jeremy returns to London, it’s utterly changed. We’re deeply, insanely, in love. During the six days he’s here we scarcely leave my house. My bedroom. My
bed
. One little room an everywhere and all that; I don’t actually quote Donne but he’s in my head these breathless August days.
    I’m mad for Jeremy despite the fact that he has an unattractive heat-rash around his not inconsiderable girth, and that for the first couple of times he can barely get an erection. This is caused by guilt. For him, the aphrodisiac of adultery has the opposite effect and I like him the better for it. I
like
him. I love him.
    I love him for making me laugh and making words come into my head, so many words I’m babbling all day and half the night. I love him for sharpening up my world so everything is vivid and fun. I love him for noticing my long, slim thighs. I love him for not being my ex-husband and all the men I’ve fooled myself into thinking were soulmates when they so evidently weren’t, and that he was there all the time, just waiting to step into my life and save me from the yawning chasm of loneliness. I never dreamed this could happen at my age, and with