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‘Or, more likely, he’s just a selfish bastard who can’t keep it in his pants.’
I laugh, despite myself. ‘Yes, or that! There’s only one way I’m going to find out though, and that’s to hear him out.’
‘Are you going to turn your phone back on?’
‘God, no! Apart from the fact that this needs to be a face-to-face conversation, you’re right. I’m not going to let him off the hook that easily. It won’t do him any harm to stew until I go home.’
‘I had a thought about that, actually. How do you fancy staying a bit longer? Richard will be home tomorrow night, but he’ll be delighted to see you. We’ll be at work from Monday, obviously, but I’ll give you the spare keys so you can come and go as you like. I just thought maybe a bit more time would help you get more perspective.’
‘To come around to your way of thinking, you mean?’
She laughs. ‘No. You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide to do. Even if you decide to take the cheating scumbag back, I’ll be cheering you on. I love you and I want you to be happy, however that looks.’
I consider it. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to be in your way.’
‘Hmm. Would I mind getting to spend more time with one of my best friends, who I haven’t seen for six months? You’re right, that’s a hard one. Of course I don’t mind! I’d love it.’
It is very tempting, but I wonder whether this is partly because it would be delaying the confrontation I need to have with James.
‘It’s a lovely idea,’ I tell her. ‘Can I think about it?’
‘Absolutely. Just let me know when you’ve made up your mind. If you decide you’d rather get back and face the music, I’ll completely understand. By the way, I’ve got a bit of a confession to make.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘It was going to be a surprise, but given the current circumstances I think that’s probably not such a good idea. I’ve invited the girls over tonight. I thought it would be fun to get our little flat together again, and they were so excited about seeing you. Obviously, I didn’t know about your situation and, if you’d rather not, I quite understand.’
I reach over and give her as big a hug as I can without toppling out of my chair or knocking the table over. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea. Thank you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’d love to see them, and they’re bound to find out what’s happened sooner or later. They might as well hear it from me. Promise me one thing, though?’
‘Anything.’
‘Don’t let the whole evening be about me and my marriage, please. That’s just going to make everyone miserable.’
‘Done. Now, why don’t I get the bill and we’ll see whether Harvey Nichols has anything to tempt you.’
5
‘Why do Americans always keep their bras on during sex?’ I ask.
Di and I are slumped in front of the TV, nursing fresh hangovers and vaguely watching some American political intrigue show on one of her streaming platforms. It seems to involve everyone leaping into bed with everyone else, and the current scene is a woman having revenge sex with her husband’s nemesis, after she caught said husband in bed with one of his interns. I did briefly wonder whether I should take a leaf out of her book, but James only really hates the bank, and you can’t have sex with one of those.
Yesterday evening was much more fun than I could have hoped. Admittedly, it was a bit weepy to begin with when I filled Maudie and Kate in on what had happened. We hugged and cried, and at one point they seemed to be competing with each other to see who could come up with the most outrageous form of revenge. Di was as good as her word, though, and quickly steered the conversation on to other topics. It turned out to be the first time that Maudie had been out on her own since giving birth to her daughter, and she was determined to make the most of it. We had to manhandle her into the Uber at the end of the evening, and the driver left us in no doubt what would happen if she was sick in his car.
‘I think it’s probably just a TV thing, to protect the actors’ modesty,’ she replies, after thinking it through for a while.
‘Not very realistic, is it? Why don’t they just use clever camera angles? Maybe it’s a cultural thing, and Americans just don’t like boobs. I saw a programme once about this tribe in Africa, where the women never covered up their top halves, because boobs weren’t considered to be anything to do with sex. Maybe it’s the same with Americans, except they never uncover them.’
‘I doubt that, somehow. Richard says that men basically fall into two camps: those who like boobs and those who like bottoms.’
I’m intrigued. ‘Which one is he?’
She jiggles her impressive chest at me. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not sure what type James is,’ I muse. ‘He pats my bum a lot, or at least he used to, so I guess he must be a bottom man.’
