The Ex-Wives by Deborah Moggach Page A

against the black leather of the chair. ‘Now I see why you want to be a journalist. Funny, you didn’t look the curious type.’
    â€˜Oh dear, I’m sorry. Do you mind?’
    Penny shook her head. ‘We had this cottage in Suffolk. Still have, though it’s up for sale now. Anyway, I got a conservatory built onto it, for a feature actually. Always a danger sign, building a conservatory.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜It’s a displacement activity. I’ve always thought divorce lawyers and conservatory architects should go into partnership together, save a lot of bother.’ She paused. Had she thought of this herself or read it somewhere? Either way, was there a piece in it? Could she stretch it out to 800 words? ‘Anyway, I had it built – classy job, carpenter called Piers, that’s how classy. And Colin came to photograph it. It was lust at first sight.’
    â€˜Did you grow carrots?’
    Penny hesitated. Was this some sort of sexual euphemism?
    Celeste said: ‘I mean – I just meant – did you have a vegetable garden?’
    Penny nodded. ‘I did all the digging, of course. Buffy said he couldn’t because of his back.’ She smiled. ‘When the film
Batman
came out he called himself Backman. Just about to do some daring feat, music playing da-da-da-da, then he’d groan and stop. “
Backman!
” ‘She was laughing, now. ‘Anyway, I did all the work and he took all the credit, of course. I think he believed he actually did it. He has a bottomless capacity for self-deception.’
    â€˜Has he?’
    â€˜Bottomless. He can make himself believe anything. He’s an actor, you see. I forgot to tell you that. They’re even worse than journalists. They have to tell lies, and believe them. That’s how they make their living. Then – poof! – it’s all gone. In their case, into thin air. Not even wrapping up fish and chips.’
    â€˜You mean he’s a liar?’ Celeste paused. ‘Can I have a glass of water?’
    â€˜You do look pale.’ Penny jumped up and went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and inspected the bottles of mineral water. ‘Carbonated, decarbonated, double decarbonated, double-double decarbonated with a twist of lemon?’ she called.
    â€˜Pardon?’
    â€˜Or just tap water?’
    She gave Celeste the glass of water. The girl’s hand was trembling. Maybe she was going through sometraumatic affair, too. Must send myself a memo to ask her, Penny thought. She was in that sort of mood – skittish.
    The cab arrived and they carried the parcels downstairs. Celeste was driven off. Penny returned to the flat.
    Talking about Buffy had done it. On the one hand she was deeply relieved to have left him – not since she was a child had she offered up such fervent prayers of thanks. On the other hand she missed him too. Perverse, wasn’t it?
    She sat on the bed – they had got rid of the futon now. Gazing at the now-empty expanse of carpet she remembered one afternoon last summer, when she had still been married. She and Colin were making love in a field and she had suddenly burst out laughing. ‘What’s the matter?’ Colin had asked, put off his stride. She was remembering something Buffy had said when they were discussing those yellow fields of oilseed rape. ‘They smell like ovulating gerbils,’ he had said. She couldn’t tell Colin this, of course. She had simply replied: ‘I’m so happy.’ Which was true. It was just that two men happened to be making her happy at the same time: one in her head and one in her body.
    Adultery: The Positive Aspect
. She could write a piece about it. Soon, maybe. Just now it was too painful.

Thirteen
    â€˜ WASN ’ T IT YOU I heard on the TV last night?’ asked Mr Woolley. ‘I recognized the voice.’
    Buffy was lying in a flat in Hans Crescent. He was having his