one of my authors. That’s who those flowers were for. They were for her book launch, I always send her flowers.’
‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘But –’
‘But what?’
‘But I thought you had a different credit card that you use just for your work expenditure.’
‘Yes, I do. It’s American Express.’
‘But sending Clare Barry congratulatory flowers, well, that would have been for work, wouldn’t it?’
‘Ye-es.’
‘So why would you have ordered flowers for one of your authors using your personal credit card?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said irritably. ‘Maybe it was a simple mistake. Or perhaps I mislaid my American Express card and was in a hurry, so I used my other card instead. Does it really matter?’ he said.
‘No,’ I said airily. ‘It doesn’t. I’m … satisfied.’
‘Satisfied?’ he said wonderingly. ‘Satisfied? Oh!’ he suddenly exclaimed. ‘Oh! I get it. You think I’m carrying on with someone.’ I glanced at Graham. His shoulder muscles had stiffened and his ears were down.
‘Ooh, no, no, no, no,’ I said. ‘No. Well, maybe.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Are you?’
‘No I’m not,’ he said with what struck me as a slightly regretful air. ‘I’m not carrying on with anyone. That’s the truth. In any case, Faith, don’t you think I’ve got enough to worry me right now without getting involved with some chick?’ Chick? ‘So please, will you give me a break?’ A break?
‘A break?’ I repeated. Ah. ‘You want me to give you a break?’
‘Yes,’ he replied firmly, ‘I do. And I hope you believe me when I say that those flowers were for an author? Do you believe me, Faith? Do you?’
‘Yes. I believe you,’ I lied.
‘I’m getting good at this,’ I said to Graham as I went through Peter’s clothes again this morning. You see I’m used to it now, so the second time wasn’t so bad. My heart wasn’t in my mouth as it had been when I’d done it the first time. My nerve endings didn’t feel as though they were attached to twitching wires. In fact I was quite business-like about it, and I told myself that I was perfectly entitled to go through my husband’s things.
‘Other women do this all the time,’ I said to Graham briskly. ‘In any case, I need to go through them to see if any of them want dry cleaning.’ I found nothing untoward this time, except, well, one very odd thing actually – in his grey trouser pockets – a packet of Lucky Strike cigarettes. I showed it to Graham and we exchanged a meaningful glance.
‘I think I’ll go to the gym this evening,’ Peter said when he got home. ‘I haven’t been for over a week.’
‘Oh,’ I said. And whereas before I’d have thought nothing of it and gaily waved him off, now I was instantly on the alert. Why did he want to go to the gym all of a sudden? Who was he meeting there? Perhaps he had a rendezvous. Right. Let’s nip this in the bud.
‘Can I come too?’ I asked. ‘I’d like to have a swim.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ he said, so we put on Ready Steady Cook for Graham, got our sports bags and left.
‘Any news from Andy?’ I enquired as we drove along.
‘No,’ he sighed, ‘not yet.’ He changed up a gear.
‘And did you manage to finish the Amber Dane?’
‘Yes,’ he said wearily. ‘At long last. Satire!’ he expostulated again. ‘It’s not so much Juvenal as juvenile. I mean, why Charmaine wants to keep her on, I really don’t know. God, that woman gives me stress.’
‘Is that why you’ve started smoking?’ I asked innocently as we loitered at a red light.
‘Sorry?’
‘Is that why you’ve started smoking?’ I repeated. I wanted to see how well he could lie.
‘I don’t smoke,’ he said indignantly. ‘You know that.’
‘In that case, darling, why, when I emptied your grey trouser pockets at the dry cleaners today, did I find a packet of cigarettes?’
‘Cigarettes?’ he said. And I could see, even in the semi-darkness, that his face had flushed bright red. ‘What cigarettes?’
‘Lucky Strike,’ I replied.
‘Oh. Oh. Those cigarettes,’ he said as the car nosed forward again. ‘Yes, well, I didn’t want you to know this, but actually … I do smoke, just occasionally, when I’m stressed.’
‘I’ve never seen you do it,’ I said as the sign for the Hogarth Health Club came into view.
‘Well, I didn’t think you’d approve,’ he replied. ‘In any case, you’ve never seen me with serious stress before. But when I’m stressed, then just now and again, yes, I do like to have a quick fag.’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘I see.’ And then I suddenly remembered another thing that didn’t quite fit.
‘You don’t like chewing gum, do you?’ I asked as he parked the car.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I hate it.’
‘So you’d never buy it, then?’
‘No. Of course not. Why on earth would I?’
‘Well, exactly,’ I said.
‘Look, Faith, I hope that’s the end of today’s inquisition,’ he said as he pulled up the handbrake.
‘No further questions,’ I said with a grim little smile.
‘And in future, Faith,’ he added as he turned off the ignition, ‘I’d rather you didn’t go through my pockets. You’ve never done it before and I don’t want you to start now.’ Of course he didn’t. Because then I’d find out for certain what at present I only suspected.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said breezily. ‘I won’t do it again.’ When we got home at nine thirty I pretended I was going to bed, but instead I crept into Matt’s room to use his computer. I knew he wouldn’t mind. There was a pile of CD Roms on the chair, and dozens of computer games on the bed. He seemed to be in the middle of reorganising his vast collection. I picked them up and looked at them – they’ve got the weirdest names: Zombie Revenge, Strider, Super Pang and Chu-Chu Rocket. Oh well, I thought, they keep him happy. Then I sat at his desk, turned on the computer and hit ‘Connect’. Eeeeeeeeeekkkk. Berddinnnnnggg. Chingggg. Bongggggg. Pingggggg. Beeeep.
