suggesting night classes and not speed-dating.’
‘We’re trying to ease you out of your comfort zone, Rose. We’re not asking you to make a Herculean leap.’
I’m not clear how it happens but somehow or other,by the time I leave the café, I find that I have agreed to Daisy and Connie drafting up a plan for me to meet new people and I’ve promised to consider enrolling in a night class.
10
Thursday 14 September
Lucy
I make an effort. A huge effort. I take the day off work to visit a stylist for a blow-dry, my beautician for various polishing, waxing, buffing and plucking, and I buy new underwear; although, strictly speaking, this is more for me than him. He’s unlikely to recoil in horror at the sight of last season’s frilly knicks. I’m not aware that they are attached to any traumatic incidences. I buy La Perla; tiny and shockingly expensive but sometimes less is more. I book us a table at Fifteen, arrange for Eva to babysit and then I book a car.
My plan is to pick up Peter from work. If I wait until he gets home before setting off on our date, the likelihood is one or the other of us will lose the impetus and decide that we’d prefer to slump; him in front of the TV, me with a bunch of magazines. Besides, even if we both do feel lively enough to venture out, we run the risk of Auriol still being awake when we try to make our escape bid. She’ll moan and whine and insist she
needs
us to stay in, she’ll say that she hasn’t seen us ‘
forever
’and she misses us. Her tears will guarantee thatthe fun of the evening will evaporate. The girl would suck our blood if she could.
I’ve already called Susie, Peter’s PA, and given her a heads up on my plan. She knows not to put any meetings in Peter’s diary after 5 p.m. and not to allow Peter to skip off to the bar before I arrive.
‘OK Lucy, don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s waiting but suspects nothing.’Susie can manage this seemingly tricky task with ease because she’s an excellent PA. ‘Is it an anniversary?’She knows it’s not our real anniversary because she sent the lavish bouquet just six months ago.
‘Of sorts.’I don’t offer any more of an explanation.
The cab company sends a shiny slate-grey Mercedes as I’m a good client. The driver is Bob. He’s driven me before. As I get into the car I notice him checking out my legs (shown to discreet advantage in a pencil skirt) and my cleavage (shown to unapologetic advantage as my Anna Sui shirt is almost transparent). He pulls his eyes away from the mirror and forces himself to look at the road. I’m not in the least offended. I don’t make this sort of effort to be ignored.
When the car pulls up outside Pete’s office, no one turns a hair. Mercs with tinted windows are a common sight in the City. Everybody is a somebody or at least a convincing wannabe. Peter is clearly delighted when he spots me in reception. Susie has made up some story about a client wanting a quick word with him and waiting impatiently in the glass foyer.
‘My God, Lucy, I was expecting a bollocking fromsome grey client and instead it’s you! Not a bollocking at all, just the dog’s bollocks!’Peter kisses me on the lips. I don’t pull away or tell him he’ll smudge my make-up or crumple my clothes. Instead I push my body into his, reminding him how I feel.
‘What’s the occasion?’he asks as he gives me an appreciative once-over.
‘I’ll tell you at dinner. Come on, we’re going right now.’
‘I can’t just leave, Lucy. I have to check my diary, let Susie know I’m off, shut down my laptop.’Suddenly, he looks agitated, irritated even.
I bite my tongue and resist making any comment about spontaneity or rather the lack of it. Funny, when we were having an affair there was never an occasion that Peter fretted about his diary or shutting down his laptop. He was always available to devote himself to me and to allow me to devote myself to him. Now I am his wife and I should be more
‘We’re trying to ease you out of your comfort zone, Rose. We’re not asking you to make a Herculean leap.’
I’m not clear how it happens but somehow or other,by the time I leave the café, I find that I have agreed to Daisy and Connie drafting up a plan for me to meet new people and I’ve promised to consider enrolling in a night class.
10
Thursday 14 September
Lucy
I make an effort. A huge effort. I take the day off work to visit a stylist for a blow-dry, my beautician for various polishing, waxing, buffing and plucking, and I buy new underwear; although, strictly speaking, this is more for me than him. He’s unlikely to recoil in horror at the sight of last season’s frilly knicks. I’m not aware that they are attached to any traumatic incidences. I buy La Perla; tiny and shockingly expensive but sometimes less is more. I book us a table at Fifteen, arrange for Eva to babysit and then I book a car.
My plan is to pick up Peter from work. If I wait until he gets home before setting off on our date, the likelihood is one or the other of us will lose the impetus and decide that we’d prefer to slump; him in front of the TV, me with a bunch of magazines. Besides, even if we both do feel lively enough to venture out, we run the risk of Auriol still being awake when we try to make our escape bid. She’ll moan and whine and insist she
needs
us to stay in, she’ll say that she hasn’t seen us ‘
forever
’and she misses us. Her tears will guarantee thatthe fun of the evening will evaporate. The girl would suck our blood if she could.
I’ve already called Susie, Peter’s PA, and given her a heads up on my plan. She knows not to put any meetings in Peter’s diary after 5 p.m. and not to allow Peter to skip off to the bar before I arrive.
‘OK Lucy, don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s waiting but suspects nothing.’Susie can manage this seemingly tricky task with ease because she’s an excellent PA. ‘Is it an anniversary?’She knows it’s not our real anniversary because she sent the lavish bouquet just six months ago.
‘Of sorts.’I don’t offer any more of an explanation.
The cab company sends a shiny slate-grey Mercedes as I’m a good client. The driver is Bob. He’s driven me before. As I get into the car I notice him checking out my legs (shown to discreet advantage in a pencil skirt) and my cleavage (shown to unapologetic advantage as my Anna Sui shirt is almost transparent). He pulls his eyes away from the mirror and forces himself to look at the road. I’m not in the least offended. I don’t make this sort of effort to be ignored.
When the car pulls up outside Pete’s office, no one turns a hair. Mercs with tinted windows are a common sight in the City. Everybody is a somebody or at least a convincing wannabe. Peter is clearly delighted when he spots me in reception. Susie has made up some story about a client wanting a quick word with him and waiting impatiently in the glass foyer.
‘My God, Lucy, I was expecting a bollocking fromsome grey client and instead it’s you! Not a bollocking at all, just the dog’s bollocks!’Peter kisses me on the lips. I don’t pull away or tell him he’ll smudge my make-up or crumple my clothes. Instead I push my body into his, reminding him how I feel.
‘What’s the occasion?’he asks as he gives me an appreciative once-over.
‘I’ll tell you at dinner. Come on, we’re going right now.’
‘I can’t just leave, Lucy. I have to check my diary, let Susie know I’m off, shut down my laptop.’Suddenly, he looks agitated, irritated even.
I bite my tongue and resist making any comment about spontaneity or rather the lack of it. Funny, when we were having an affair there was never an occasion that Peter fretted about his diary or shutting down his laptop. He was always available to devote himself to me and to allow me to devote myself to him. Now I am his wife and I should be more
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