the mystery officer. She perched on the edge of a chair, looked past her friend and into the mirror that hung above the mantel and asked, ‘Then how would you describe him?’
‘He was …’ Lydia scrabbled around her mind, desperate to find a word other than ‘perfect’ that might describe the man. She wanted to explain that he had struck her as the embodiment of all that was magnificent and masculine, forceful and beautiful. How could she explain that she’d instantly, perplexingly, been frightened and delighted by him? She’d thought of him since. At night. When she bathed. When she dressed.
Or undressed.
The fact that she found him unforgettable horrified her. In the end, she said what was most true and least exposing. ‘He was different.’
‘How different? Good different or bad different?’
‘Oh, most definitely good different.’
‘I see. What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Pity. You could have invited him here to dinner.’
‘How many are we tonight?’ Lydia took this opportunity to turn back to face her friend and to redirect the conversation. She couldn’t do the former without the shield of the latter.
‘We’re thirty-nine, but, as ever, the balance is wrong. Far too many women.’
‘I’m so sorry that Lawrence has stood you up.’
‘Why didn’t he come?’
‘Officially, he has a paper to finish for the PM for Monday. Truthfully, we’re cross with one another. I mean, he does have a paper, but he could have done it here. You know. He has done so on many an occasion.’
‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’
Lydia shook her head mournfully. Ava was relieved; she believed they’d said all there was to say about the baby business. ‘Well, we shall manage. There are twenty-two women and seventeen men. It could be worse. But really, Lydia, when will you learn? If you meet a suave sort, you must get a card. Was he interesting?’
‘We hardly spoke, but yes, I think so.’
‘Interesting and pretty: what a shame you let him slip. I could do with someone new to look at. Besides, he might do for Beatrice.’
Lydia watched Ava’s hard, flat body shake a little with merriment. She couldn’t stand it, but her indignation was not on Bea’s behalf. She couldn’t tolerate the idea of Ava laughing about the officer, or setting him up with anyone. As disloyal and diabolical as the thought was, she felt he was degraded by being linked with Bea. She could not endure it.
‘No, not Beatrice,’ she spat. She turned again to watch the flames in the fire soaring and diving; she must not expose her indignation.
‘No?’
‘No. He’s not her type.’
‘Darling, that can’t be possible. You know Beatrice considers grandpapas and the wounded. If you find this chap handsome and amusing, then
surely
Beatrice will.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then who were you thinking of? He has to go to someone. He’s a spare man. It’s your duty to introduce him to some gal.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Lydia stuttered.
Ava had the answer she wanted. She instinctually understood everything about such things. Lydia did not want to share him. She did not want to give him up. ‘So how are we going to find him? This mystery man of yours? If he’s so divine, surely someone ought to know him. I
ought to have slept with him.’
Lydia tried not to look hurt. ‘You’re awful.’
‘I must find him, mustn’t I?’ Ava stood up and nonchalantly walked towards her friend. They gazed at one another’s reflection in the mirror. Eye to eye, they both understood the moment; it was the one where Lydia could let it go. Or she could push on. She chose to push.
‘Yes, do find him. But …’
‘But what?’
‘But don’t sleep with him, Ava. Don’t take him.’
‘You said he was divine.’
‘He is.’
‘Then why wouldn’t I?’
Lydia turned and grasped her friend’s hand. It was silky smooth and small like a child’s. She would not look at Ava, but she knew that Ava had already
‘He was …’ Lydia scrabbled around her mind, desperate to find a word other than ‘perfect’ that might describe the man. She wanted to explain that he had struck her as the embodiment of all that was magnificent and masculine, forceful and beautiful. How could she explain that she’d instantly, perplexingly, been frightened and delighted by him? She’d thought of him since. At night. When she bathed. When she dressed.
Or undressed.
The fact that she found him unforgettable horrified her. In the end, she said what was most true and least exposing. ‘He was different.’
‘How different? Good different or bad different?’
‘Oh, most definitely good different.’
‘I see. What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Pity. You could have invited him here to dinner.’
‘How many are we tonight?’ Lydia took this opportunity to turn back to face her friend and to redirect the conversation. She couldn’t do the former without the shield of the latter.
‘We’re thirty-nine, but, as ever, the balance is wrong. Far too many women.’
‘I’m so sorry that Lawrence has stood you up.’
‘Why didn’t he come?’
‘Officially, he has a paper to finish for the PM for Monday. Truthfully, we’re cross with one another. I mean, he does have a paper, but he could have done it here. You know. He has done so on many an occasion.’
‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’
Lydia shook her head mournfully. Ava was relieved; she believed they’d said all there was to say about the baby business. ‘Well, we shall manage. There are twenty-two women and seventeen men. It could be worse. But really, Lydia, when will you learn? If you meet a suave sort, you must get a card. Was he interesting?’
‘We hardly spoke, but yes, I think so.’
‘Interesting and pretty: what a shame you let him slip. I could do with someone new to look at. Besides, he might do for Beatrice.’
Lydia watched Ava’s hard, flat body shake a little with merriment. She couldn’t stand it, but her indignation was not on Bea’s behalf. She couldn’t tolerate the idea of Ava laughing about the officer, or setting him up with anyone. As disloyal and diabolical as the thought was, she felt he was degraded by being linked with Bea. She could not endure it.
‘No, not Beatrice,’ she spat. She turned again to watch the flames in the fire soaring and diving; she must not expose her indignation.
‘No?’
‘No. He’s not her type.’
‘Darling, that can’t be possible. You know Beatrice considers grandpapas and the wounded. If you find this chap handsome and amusing, then
surely
Beatrice will.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then who were you thinking of? He has to go to someone. He’s a spare man. It’s your duty to introduce him to some gal.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Lydia stuttered.
Ava had the answer she wanted. She instinctually understood everything about such things. Lydia did not want to share him. She did not want to give him up. ‘So how are we going to find him? This mystery man of yours? If he’s so divine, surely someone ought to know him. I
ought to have slept with him.’
Lydia tried not to look hurt. ‘You’re awful.’
‘I must find him, mustn’t I?’ Ava stood up and nonchalantly walked towards her friend. They gazed at one another’s reflection in the mirror. Eye to eye, they both understood the moment; it was the one where Lydia could let it go. Or she could push on. She chose to push.
‘Yes, do find him. But …’
‘But what?’
‘But don’t sleep with him, Ava. Don’t take him.’
‘You said he was divine.’
‘He is.’
‘Then why wouldn’t I?’
Lydia turned and grasped her friend’s hand. It was silky smooth and small like a child’s. She would not look at Ava, but she knew that Ava had already
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