Bachelor Boys (15 page)
Authors: Kate Saunders
Ben completed this perfect installation. I finally admitted that I had been wrong about his hair. The famous Fauntleroy ringlets looked fabulous with the lethally sharp new charcoal suit, and had to be an asset.
Naturally, I was far too much of a lady to make any of these observations out loud. I pretended the Darlings lived like this all the time.
Elspeth Dunbar was sitting stiffly on the sofa, holding but not drinking a glass of champagne. She had left off the scarlet lipstick, and I was a tad disappointed by the flatness and squareness of her face without it. Her silk dress softened the angles of her bony figure, but the print made her look too pale, and her rigid shyness lay over the room like lead.
We shook hands, claiming to be delighted to see each other again. Elspeth volunteered absolutely nothing, and answered my polite questions in monosyllables. She kissed Matthew, which made him smile for the first (and last) time that evening. The presence of a senior colleague galvanized him into something like geniality. He sat himself at her side, and they exchanged a few cautious off-duty jokes about their office.
Annabel leaped out of her chair to hug me. “Where have you been? You look ⦔ her eyes traveled down to my feet, “lovely.”
“I know, I'm wearing trainers, but it's a long story.” I slipped them off, and my expensive frock reasserted itself. I raised a refined little laugh with the story of the car. Matthew collapsed back into gloom the moment Elspeth's attention veered away from him. He stared into the middle distance, gulping champagne like a sleepwalker. What was the matter with him? Why couldn't he make an effort? Did he think this sort of thing came naturally to the rest of us?
I was glad to see Annabel. She was at her absolute best, I decidedâthe less she tried, the prettier she looked. She was squeezed into a tight black skirt and white blouse. Her guileless face was made up in the polite, nonthreatening way necessary for bosomy blondes who work in male-dominated offices. Her long fair hair was all over the place. She has a way of making demure clothes look luscious, and both Darlings unconsciously addressed all remarks to her cleavage. She was relaxed, and giggly with champagne.
She said, “It's a good thing I've postponed my diet. Neil's cooking is making my stomach rumble. I don't think I'll ever be thin.”
It would have been lovely to sink into gossip with Annabel, but I was not here to enjoy myself. I made another attempt to pull Matthew into the conversation. I can't remember exactly what I saidâsome inanity about buying tickets for Neil's next recital.
Matthew jumped as if I had applied a cattle prod to his privates. “Yes,” he said. “Yes indeed.” He squared his shoulders, and blurted, “Sorryâhave to make a phone call.”
He hurried out into the street, digging his mobile from his pocket.
“Work,” I told everyone. “Honestly, they never leave him alone.”
“Well, that's work for you,” Ben said. “Neil's just the sameâan absolute slave driver. Doesn't know the meaning of relaxation.”
“Don't listen to him,” Neil said. “He's just lazy.” He watched Ben with an amused affection that made me see what a nice man he was. No wonder Phoebe adored him.
Elspeth's flat voice fell into the silence. “I've always thought classical music must be a very demanding career.”
Ben feels sorry for shy people, and this made him very kind to Elspeth. He topped up her glass, and he and Neil managed to pull the poor creature into a three-way conversation about music. She glanced from
Neil to Ben, and her square face softened. I stopped worrying about Matthew. Had we found a match for Ben? Was it really going to be this easy? What would Phoebe think? I tried a mental snapshot of Elspeth as a bride. If she could be persuaded into a different shade of lipstick, she and Ben would make a magnificent couple. Mrs. Elspeth Darling.
My husband's a musicianâmy husband's a pianistâmy husband accompanies Neil Evans, the rising young tenor.
Yes, it could work.
Neil to Ben, and her square face softened. I stopped worrying about Matthew. Had we found a match for Ben? Was it really going to be this easy? What would Phoebe think? I tried a mental snapshot of Elspeth as a bride. If she could be persuaded into a different shade of lipstick, she and Ben would make a magnificent couple. Mrs. Elspeth Darling.
My husband's a musicianâmy husband's a pianistâmy husband accompanies Neil Evans, the rising young tenor.
Yes, it could work.
And there wasn't much chance of any other wedding, such as mine. My social smile was making my cheeks ache. Prince William would propose to me before Matthew did.
“I think we ought to sit down,” Neil said. He began to place the first courses on the tableâindividual cheese and spinach soufflés, beautifully puffy and brown.
“Neil,” Fritz said, “you're a fucking diamond.”
I glanced at Elspeth, to see if the offensive word had offended her. No collecting box was forthcoming. She only smiled at Neil and said, “This looks delicious.”
We sat down.
“Don't wait for Matthew,” I said.
At this moment Matthew returned. He was pale and agitated. “Cassie, I'm so sorry about this, but I've got to leave.”
“What?” I didn't even try to hide my dismay.
“Something's come up, that's all, and I absolutely have to fix it.”
“But it's Saturday night! Couldn't it wait till Monday?”
“No. I have to leave. Sorry.”
Fritz said, “Don't let us keep you.”
A frisson of dislike passed between them.
Very much on his dignity, Matthew kissed me, promised to phone me later, and made his exit.
I bowed my head over my plate, feeling that the corners of my mouth were stapled to my ears. I couldn't lose that awful bright smile. I felt it made my mortification grotesque.
“Well, I'm glad I don't have a job like that,” Ben said. “It's a shame he had to make that call before he had any food. Would anyone mind if I ate his starter?” He scooped it off the plate without waiting for a reply.
I noticed that Fritz was looking at me thoughtfully.
“Let's hope Elspeth doesn't have to do a runner too,” Ben said cheerfully, through a mouthful of cheese and spinach. “I mean, you're Matthew's colleague, aren't you?”
Elspeth said, “Yes. We've just finished working on a case together. I can't imagine what that phone call was about.”
“Wow. Maybe he's been fired.” Ben favored me with one of his beaming, tactless smiles. I smiled back, longing to Sellotape his mouth shut. “That would explain why he looked so freaked just now. Either that or he's having an affair and he was phoning his mistress.”
“Ben,” Fritz said gently, “shut up.”
“Why should I? Shut up yourself.”
“You're spraying Elspeth with spinach.”
“Oops. So sorry.” Ben scrubbed at his mouth with one of Phoebe's damask napkins. “Neil, you've given me green teethâthe classic dating disaster. It's a good thing I'm not trying to pull.”
I ate a forkful of soufflé. I didn't want it, but it would give my mouth something to do besides smiling. Of course Matthew wasn't having an affair. How absurd. I wasn't even going to think about it. God, Ben could be insensitive.
Kindly, as Jimmy would have done, Fritz changed the subject. He began telling us about his “experimental” production of
Rookery Nook
.
Rookery Nook
.
“Annabel, you know one of the cast,” I said.
“Do I?” Annabel's cheeks were becomingly tinged with pink. She was staring at Fritz.
“I told you,” I said. “He's working with Poison Peason.”
“Oh, of courseâpoor you. Is she still an unspeakable cow?”
“I'd say so,” Fritz said. “She bores us all to tears.”
“I expect you fancy her,” Annabel said innocently.
He leaned closer to her, smiling. “Not my type, darling. Too demanding. And anyway, I prefer blondes.” I noticed, with a slight quickening of the pulse, that he could not keep his eyes off her. He was pouring himself into that wide blue gaze. And Annabel had that beatific glazed expression she got whenever sexual infatuation reared its goofy head at her. All her old fancying of Fritz came rushing back, with horns on.
The evening was spiked with sex. I thought of Matthew, and felt intense loneliness and deep yearning. I needed love before I disappeared.
I refilled my glass (noting, in my self-pity, that no one had thought to do it for me), and resolutely tuned in to the other end of the table. Neil and Ben were entertaining Elspeth with stories about their college daysârather tame stories, I thought; but Elspeth seemed to love them. She was smiling.
Neil dished up noisettes of lamb on a bed of flageolet beans (the man was a truly fantastic cook). Fritz kept the wine flowing. He continued to focus most of his attention on Annabel. He wasn't flirting with her. What Fritz did was too intense and electric to be called flirting.
I had a bleak moment of isolation. I was miserable because Matthew didn't want to marry me, and also because I didn't want Fritz to fancy Annabel. Yes, of course, obviously, this was because I fancied Fritz myself. He was stillâin a purely physical senseâthe most attractive man I had ever seen. I told myself that the strong aura of sex around him was distorting the atmosphere. I reminded myself that I was in love with someone else. It was up to me to ignore the chemical disturbance. After all, wasn't this exactly what I'd wanted? Being jealous of Annabel felt all wrong.
I noticed that Ben was quiet, and also watching Fritz and Annabel. The rest of us were becoming increasingly invisible.
Out in the street, a car door slammed. Above us, we heard the front door opening and closing.
“Oh, is that Phoebe?” Annabel asked. “How lovely!”
At last Fritz tore his eyes away from Annabel. He looked at his watch. “Half past tenâand I told the Cohens to keep her till eleven, at least.”
He and Ben were laughing softly. Ben said, “I give her ten minutes.”
“She'll never wait that long,” Fritz said. “She's only looking round for an excuse.”
For the first time that evening, I felt a surge of optimism. The house only seemed right when Phoebe was in it. And despite all the lectures I had given her about snooping, I longed to see her.
Light, hesitant steps were heard on the basement stairs. There was a soft knock, and Phoebe's head appeared round the door. As the boys had predicted, no power on earth could have kept her away. I had the usual moment of shock that she had become so much smaller all overâeven her head seemed to have shrunkâthen rejoiced to see that her dark eyes
were lamps of energy. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it was the breath of life to Phoebe.
were lamps of energy. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it was the breath of life to Phoebe.
“Ignore this woman,” Fritz told us. “She's just an old family retainer. She doesn't speak a word of English.”
“Darling, I'm so sorry to interrupt,” Phoebe said, smiling round at us all. “I know I promised not to bother you, but I can't get the hot tap upstairs to turn off.”
We were laughing now. What could we do? Phoebe had achieved her ambition and become part of the evening. She gazed around at us with gentle triumph.
Annabel leaped out of her chair to embrace her. It was a while since they had met, and I could see that Annabel was shocked by the change in her. But the way she covered it made me suddenly remember all my fondness for her. Without being told, she was treating Phoebe as we all did, pretending nothing was wrong.
“Well, doesn't this look nice?” Phoebe said, as if she hadn't set the table with her own hands that afternoon. “You must be Elspeth. How lovely to meet you. I'm their motherâI live upstairs, not that we're in each other's pockets. Goodness, no. Sometimes I don't even see them for weeks on end.”
“Quite true,” Fritz said. “The poor old thing hardly recognizes us these days.”
“Well, now that I'm here, I might as well make the coffee. Why don't you all come upstairs?”
Fritz stood up. “You are a very wicked and conniving woman,” he told Phoebe severely. “You can't be trusted. Your word is worth nothing.”
She knew she had won. “Bring your glasses, everyone. There are some nice little almond biscuits, if anyone's still hungry.”
We all rose (unsteadily, in my case), and followed Phoebe's insubstantial figure up the narrow staircase. Ben and I were at the back of the procession, behind Fritz and Annabel. It was impossible not to notice that they were holding hands. Annabel glowed as if she had swallowed the sun. Both Ben and I caught the look Fritz gave her before releasing her hand.
Fritz went over to the sink, to examine the faulty tap. “Well I neverâit seems to have cured itself. This kitchen must be a sort of plumbing version of Lourdes.”
“Fritz, come and sit down,” Phoebe said. “Next to Annabel.” She had picked up the signal, as I ought to have known she would.
Fritz might smile at her transparency, but he did not object to sitting on the sofa beside Annabel. I went to the other end of the long room, to help Phoebe with the tea and coffee. It was a good moment for a conference.
“Well?” Phoebe murmured. “How did it go? What's been happening?”
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