‘You what?’
‘It’s a lovely word to say. Try it.’
‘Fu-nic-u-lar. Hmm. What is your favourite journey?’
‘The road to Oban, the boat to Mull; to Aunt Celia’s.’
‘Who are your favourite musicians?’
‘Genesis, Van the Man, Dylan.’
‘Anyone told you it’s now the 1990s? Who are your favourite writers?’
‘Alice Thomas Ellis and Jane Austen.’ Oh, and Ms Collins.
‘What or who is the greatest love of your life?’
She panicked momentarily and looked at him blankly. ‘Myself?’ she ventured. He seemed pleased with that.
‘Which living person do you most despise?’
‘Despise? I don’t care much for Myra Hindley or Peter Sutcliffe.’
‘What do you consider the most overrated virtue?’
‘Chasteness. Decorum.’ Richard raised his eyebrows at the intensity of her proclamation.
‘What is your greatest regret?’
‘Not being good enough to go to ballet school.’
‘Ballet?’
‘Ten years of it.’
‘That explains your hyper-mobility then! When and where were you happiest?’
‘Childhood holidays at Aunt Celia’s in Mull.’
‘What single thing would improve the quality of your life?’
‘A farmhouse in Tuscany.’
‘And the dark, swarthy man?’
‘Him too.’
‘What would your motto be?’
‘Don’t look before you leap.’
‘How would you like to die?’
‘When I’m ready.’
‘How would you like to be remembered?’
‘With desire and longing and a twinkle in the eye.’
‘Thank you, Ms Lomax,’ said Richard, pouring her another cup of Earl Grey and stirring it with the microphone, ‘that was intriguing!’
And necessary, my love. ‘But there’s one more question,’ he asked lasciviously, ‘how do you like it best?’
Sally smirked. ‘Milk, no sugar?’ she ventured.
Richard raised his eyebrows in a that-won’t-do fashion.
‘I’ll show you later. First, there’s the small but pressing issue of your answers, Richard Stonehill.’
‘And then you’ll show me?’
‘Then I’ll show you.’
NINE
‘Richard Stonehill, thirty-five, architect, new-age man and all round good-looker, what is your idea of perfect happiness?’
‘Yachting in Australia.’ You, Sal.
‘Ever done it?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘What is your greatest fear?’
‘Multiple sclerosis.’
‘With which historical figure do you most identify?’
‘Byron.’
‘How pretentious! Which living person do you most admire?’
‘Bob.’
‘Bob-and-Catherine Bob?’
‘Yes.’
‘What vehicles do you own?’
‘An Alfa Romeo Spyder and a Cannondale mountain bike.’
‘What is your greatest extravagance?’
‘Silk ties and olive oil that’s as expensive as the former.’
‘What objects do you always carry with you?’
‘Why, my little black book of course.’
‘Am I in your little black book?’
‘You are in my little black book.’
‘What makes you most depressed?’
‘Housing estates. Oh, and nylon.’
‘Hear hear. What do you most dislike about your appearance?’
‘My legs.’
‘Your legs?’
‘Too skinny.’
Richard, they’re gorgeous, unquestionably masculine, you vain old thing.
‘What is your most unappealing habit?’
‘Moi? Rien!’
‘Ri-chard!’
‘Okay, I pick my nose, fart and belch.’
‘Big deal.’
‘Simultaneously. In the bath.’
‘Gracious Good Lord. What would you most like for your next birthday present?’
‘You. Wrapped up in brown paper and red ribbons.’
‘When is your birthday?’
‘June the second.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. What is your favourite word?’
‘Telecommunication,’ proclaimed Richard. ‘Well, it sounds nice, doesn’t it?’ Sally raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, all right then – copulation.’
‘Later. What or who is the greatest love of your life?’
‘My mummy!’
Laughter erupted and Sally tickled
