Now, I’m only saying this as your friend.”
“I know…”
“Because I have only your best interests at heart.”
“Yes. Thanks…”
“But I think you ought to do a Christine…” I looked at her.
“What? Hamilton?” I said aghast.
“You mean, search his pockets?” Lily was fiddling with the Buddhist power beads
at her slender wrist.
“That’s what many women would do, Faith,” she said reasonably.
“But don’t worry, darling. I’m sure there’s absolutely nothing to be concerned about.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said, suddenly panicking. “Maybe there is .”
“No, no, I’m sure it’s fine, ” she
said soothingly. “But all I’m saying, as your best and oldest friend, is that
maybe you should, well, sharpen up a bit.”
“What?”
“Learn to spot the signs.”
“I wouldn’t know how,” I groaned.
“Of course you wouldn’t, you’re so trusting. But that’s
something I can help you with, darling, because as luck would have it, Moi! did a big feature on this only last month.” She
stood up and began to sort through a pile of back issues on the floor.
“Now, where is it?” she said. “Oh, here we are!” she exclaimed
happily. “You’re in luck. ‘Is Your Man a Love-Rodent?’” she read. “ Seven classic signs: one, he’s distracted and distant. Two,
he’s ‘working late’; three, he’s looking fit; four, his wardrobe’s improved.
Five, he’s not interested in sex, and six —and I gather that this is
the clincher, Faith…” Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door.
“Lily…” It was Polly again. “Lily, I’m sorry, but I’ve got
Madonna for you on line one.”
“Oh God,” said Lily, rolling her eyes, “I’ve told her not to
call me in my lunchbreak. Still…” She sighed. “We do want her on the cover in
June. Sorry, Faith darling. Must go.” She blew me a kiss as I stood at the door,
then waved Jennifer’s little paw up and down.
“Now, I don’t want you to worry,” she called out as I opened
the door. “In any case I’m sure it’s all going to work out for the best, as you
always like to say.”
I journeyed back to west London as if in a trance. I’d got what
I wanted, all right. I’d had my nagging doubts dispelled, and replaced with
naked fear. Peter was having an affair. Lily hadn’t said it in so many words,
but she clearly thought something was up and she’s, well, a woman of the world.
My morale was so low it was practically underground, and as I left Turnham Green
tube and walked home I began to entertain all kinds of mad ideas: that Peter was
in love with another woman; that he would up and leave; that I had been a bad
wife; that he had been driven to find solace elsewhere; that our house would
have to be sold; that our children would suffer and fail; that our dog would
become a delinquent; that we’d never go to Ikea again; that—as I placed my hand
on the garden gate, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. For there, on the
doorstep, was an enormous bouquet of white and yellow flowers. I gathered it up
in one hand and unlocked the door with the other, and as Graham leaped up to
greet me with a joyful bark, I peeled off the envelope. The phone started to
ring, but I ignored it as my eyes scanned the message on the small white
card.
Happy Anniversary, Faith, it read. So sorry I forgot. All my love, Peter . Relief
knocked me over, like a wave. I sank gratefully onto the hall chair.
“Of course he’s not having an affair!” I said to Graham as my hand
reached for the phone. “Peter loves me,” I said, “and I love him, and that’s all
there is to it. Hello?”
“Faith, darling, it’s Lily. Sorry we got cut off there.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said cheerfully. “I’d said everything I
wanted to say and in fact Lily, although it’s very kind of you to give me advice, and I do appreciate it, I really don’t think
you’re quite right, and to be honest I think I just really overreacted and I’d
been in a
“I know…”
“Because I have only your best interests at heart.”
“Yes. Thanks…”
“But I think you ought to do a Christine…” I looked at her.
“What? Hamilton?” I said aghast.
“You mean, search his pockets?” Lily was fiddling with the Buddhist power beads
at her slender wrist.
“That’s what many women would do, Faith,” she said reasonably.
“But don’t worry, darling. I’m sure there’s absolutely nothing to be concerned about.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said, suddenly panicking. “Maybe there is .”
“No, no, I’m sure it’s fine, ” she
said soothingly. “But all I’m saying, as your best and oldest friend, is that
maybe you should, well, sharpen up a bit.”
“What?”
“Learn to spot the signs.”
“I wouldn’t know how,” I groaned.
“Of course you wouldn’t, you’re so trusting. But that’s
something I can help you with, darling, because as luck would have it, Moi! did a big feature on this only last month.” She
stood up and began to sort through a pile of back issues on the floor.
“Now, where is it?” she said. “Oh, here we are!” she exclaimed
happily. “You’re in luck. ‘Is Your Man a Love-Rodent?’” she read. “ Seven classic signs: one, he’s distracted and distant. Two,
he’s ‘working late’; three, he’s looking fit; four, his wardrobe’s improved.
Five, he’s not interested in sex, and six —and I gather that this is
the clincher, Faith…” Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door.
“Lily…” It was Polly again. “Lily, I’m sorry, but I’ve got
Madonna for you on line one.”
“Oh God,” said Lily, rolling her eyes, “I’ve told her not to
call me in my lunchbreak. Still…” She sighed. “We do want her on the cover in
June. Sorry, Faith darling. Must go.” She blew me a kiss as I stood at the door,
then waved Jennifer’s little paw up and down.
“Now, I don’t want you to worry,” she called out as I opened
the door. “In any case I’m sure it’s all going to work out for the best, as you
always like to say.”
I journeyed back to west London as if in a trance. I’d got what
I wanted, all right. I’d had my nagging doubts dispelled, and replaced with
naked fear. Peter was having an affair. Lily hadn’t said it in so many words,
but she clearly thought something was up and she’s, well, a woman of the world.
My morale was so low it was practically underground, and as I left Turnham Green
tube and walked home I began to entertain all kinds of mad ideas: that Peter was
in love with another woman; that he would up and leave; that I had been a bad
wife; that he had been driven to find solace elsewhere; that our house would
have to be sold; that our children would suffer and fail; that our dog would
become a delinquent; that we’d never go to Ikea again; that—as I placed my hand
on the garden gate, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. For there, on the
doorstep, was an enormous bouquet of white and yellow flowers. I gathered it up
in one hand and unlocked the door with the other, and as Graham leaped up to
greet me with a joyful bark, I peeled off the envelope. The phone started to
ring, but I ignored it as my eyes scanned the message on the small white
card.
Happy Anniversary, Faith, it read. So sorry I forgot. All my love, Peter . Relief
knocked me over, like a wave. I sank gratefully onto the hall chair.
“Of course he’s not having an affair!” I said to Graham as my hand
reached for the phone. “Peter loves me,” I said, “and I love him, and that’s all
there is to it. Hello?”
“Faith, darling, it’s Lily. Sorry we got cut off there.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said cheerfully. “I’d said everything I
wanted to say and in fact Lily, although it’s very kind of you to give me advice, and I do appreciate it, I really don’t think
you’re quite right, and to be honest I think I just really overreacted and I’d
been in a
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