Swan by Katherine Hole Page A

know, I know, I totally agree. I think David’s lovely.
Phil’s probably jealous cos I won’t stop going on about the time when David did
that Krav Magga thingy. But darling, listen, there’s something else ...’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Phil reckons David wears a wig.’
    ‘What!’
    ‘Well,’ she explained, ‘you know how Phil used to
help glue on his dad’s toupee? Well, he knows fake hair when he sees it and ...
well, Phil says David’s definitely wearing a wig.’
    I fell silent. ‘Okay, so David’s bald - so what? Not
all men want to walk around with a bald patch like Phil.’
    ‘Couldn’t agree more, darling. Wigs are absolutely
fine in my opinion.’
    Neither of us said anything. I was hurt by Phil’s
attack more than I let on. By insulting David, it was like he was insulting me,
and I didn’t like it. I felt a surge of indignation in my chest.
    ‘Anyway, Phil’s a fine one to talk about trust,
isn’t he?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, look at this thing with his receptionist.
He’s talking about David looking shifty, when he’s up to his own dirty tricks.’
    ‘Maddy, I thought you said I was overreacting about
that!’
    ‘Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind. There was
something odd about Phil’s behaviour today. He didn’t seem like himself. Like
he was hiding something.’
    ‘Gosh, do you think so?’ My sister sounded fearful.
    ‘Has his receptionist called the house since I last
spoke to you?’
    ‘Yes, once or twice.’
    ‘How did she sound?’
    ‘Nervous, like before.’
    ‘Just keep your eyes open, Beth, that’s all I’m
saying. I don’t want you getting hurt.’
    ‘I knew he was up to something; I just knew it!’
    I smiled mirthlessly. The seeds of doubt had been
planted.
    After I’d hung up, I felt a bit bad for dishing the
dirt. But I just couldn’t let Phil get away with being so nasty about David.
What did it matter if he wore a wig and had occasional smelly feet? If
anything, it made me like him even more, because it made him more human. God
knows I was no oil painting. Who was I to judge?
     

Chapter Nine
     
    After that, I didn’t hear from David for a couple of
days. It didn’t bother me too much, as I knew he’d probably need some space
after the awful party. But I was confident that our relationship had progressed
to new heights of intimacy. The way we had defended each other at dinner was an
indication of our allegiance to each other, of the bond we had forged.
    I thought about him constantly: the good times we’d
spent together and marvelled at how a man I’d only known a few short weeks had
managed to have such an impact on my life. Even work didn’t seem so bad because
I knew I had someone who cared. So what if our relationship remained forever platonic;
it was still better than nothing, wasn’t it?
    I bided my time, counting down the days until I
thought it safe to call on him again. I didn’t want to appear too pushy. I knew
I had to take my time, had to be patient. After all, as my father used to say,
patience is a virtue. And patience was something I’d learned to exercise for
twenty-five long years.
    I managed to hold out until the following Tuesday,
by which time I was simply gagging to see him. As usual it took him forever to
answer the door.
    He’s
probably adjusting his wig , I
thought humorously.
    When he finally appeared, he looked morose; his eyes
were red and puffy, like he’d come down with a cold and he seemed to have
layers and layers of clothing on underneath his towelling dressing gown.
    ‘Oh, I’m sorry David, did I wake you?’
    ‘No, no, not at all.’ It was the first time I’d seen
him without his glasses, and he looked younger somehow. Fresher.
    ‘Are you okay? You don’t look too well.’
    He gave a massive sneeze, rubbed his nose vigorously
with a tissue. ‘No, I haven’t been feeling too great of late.’ He sneezed
again, causing his eyes to water even more. ‘Would you like to come in?’
    ‘Thanks.’
    David