Authors: Fanny Blake
‘You’ve gone very pale.’ Ali’s voice came from a distance. ‘Are you OK?’
Lou opened one eye, then the other. Everything was as it should be. The other passengers were strapped into their seats, adjusting the in-flight entertainment, chatting, reading magazines. The prevailing atmosphere was one of calm. How unnecessary to get so worked up – but necessity had nothing to do with it, her behaviour was instinctive. ‘I am now.’ She smiled as she let go the armrest. ‘Still want to know about the shop?’
By the time the stewardesses were working the aisle, bringing drinks and dinner, Lou had finished explaining the plans for her business and had moved on to Nic, her daughter. ‘She thinks I’m crazy, that I’ve no brain for business. She just doesn’t get the market for “dead people’s clothes” as she insists on calling them.’
‘Then you’ll just have to prove her wrong,’ Ali said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. ‘What does she do?’
‘She’s a family lawyer. Took after her godmother Fiona who’s always encouraged her. Look, it’s not that we don’t get on really, she just has strong views.’ She paused with a short laugh, as always amazed to think how her almost edible, curly-haired toddler had grown up into such a touchy, opinionated young woman. Her father’s daughter, she guessed. Or else her mothering skills had let them both down. ‘My two boys, Jamie and Tom, are quite different,’ she said, feeling she had to justify herself. ‘They’re much easier and more understanding.’ She broke off as the trays were put in front of them, then changed the subject. ‘What’s waiting at home for you?’
‘January’s usually a bit of a hangover from Christmas in my business, so I’ve got a few small jobs plus a ring to finish for a guy who was too late with his ordering. There’s always someone.’ Ali looked resigned. ‘But, at the same time, I’ll be thinking ahead and starting to dream up designs for a new collection. Business is much harder than usual thanks to the rocketing metal prices. But before I do anything, I’ll have to go up north to visit my father and make up for missing Christmas with him.’ She made it sound more of a chore than a pleasure. ‘Not that we’ve spent it together for years.’
‘Both my parents are dead,’ Lou said wistfully, remembering the family trips they’d made to Scotland for Hogmanay when the kids were small. Log fires, long walks, icy cheeks and warm hands, skating on the frozen pond: annual pleasures that were all but ruined when her mother took to the bottle. Then, Lou would have to keep the children out of her way as her mother slipped from maudlin nostalgia into something more aggressive. When she was drunk, which she was more and more often after her husband’s death, everyone was a disappointment to her and she became angry and vocal about it.
‘Dad and I aren’t very close. We’ve tried but it’s been difficult.’ Ali stopped as she peeled the foil lids off the containers in front of her, then replaced them and pushed the tray the full two inches away from her. ‘God, the food never gets any better, does it?’
Realising Ali was not going to elaborate on her relationship with her father, Lou changed the subject. ‘But aren’t you moving in with your boyfriend? What’s that?’ Lou watched Ali pop a white pill.
‘Imodium.’ She grimaced and crossed her fingers. ‘Let’s hope it works. My boyfriend? Well, I’m going home to a new life, I guess.’ A dreamy expression crossed her face. ‘He’s a fantastic man, a little bit older than me, who I’ve been seeing for the last three years. He’s married but he’s going to leave her. I’ve promised not to say anything to anyone until he’s extricated himself, but by the time I’m back he should be there. Or near enough. Then we’ll be together. I can’t wait.’
Lou marvelled at Ali’s apparent lack of concern. ‘But aren’t you worried about his wife? Or his family? Won’t they make things difficult?’ She couldn’t imagine herself being in that position without having some concern about the hurt she must be inflicting.
‘Why should I be?’ Ali looked puzzled. ‘That’s their business, isn’t it? But from what he’s said, things have been pretty ropey between them for ages. Let’s face it, he wouldn’t have kept our affair going if they weren’t. We’ve seen each other almost every week, gone out for meals, to the cinema. I’ve even been away with him when he’s travelled on business. He couldn’t have done any of that if either of them cared more about the other, could he?’
‘But don’t you talk about it?’ Lou tried to sound interested rather than astonished, not wanting to point out the obvious: that plenty of men were happy to have their cake and eat it. Ali was too smart not to know that, but perhaps she was just salving her conscience.
‘Never,’ Ali said firmly. ‘That’s a rule I made and I’ve stuck with. Wife, children, pets and his domestic crises have always been right off the agenda. We have a great time together without them getting in the way. I never imagined he’d leave her, never wanted him to, so my being ignorant of all that stuff has meant that things have run happily alongside his marriage without nudging it off the rails.’
Lou almost choked on a mouthful of the rubber passing for chicken curry. ‘Then how do you know he’s the one for you? You can’t know much about him at all.’
‘I know enough. Really, I do. I know what I’m doing, and I know why I’m doing it.’
But Lou hadn’t been probing into Ali’s motives. She was just intrigued at why anyone would see this as an ideal basis for a long-term partnership.
Ali went on. ‘I know it’s not a conventional view of a satisfactory or fulfilling relationship but until now I’ve always thought I was getting the best of both worlds: my freedom plus plenty of no-strings passion and entertainment.’
‘Why change things? That sounds pretty damn perfect to me.’ And the polar opposite to Lou’s own marriage where, for the last few years, she’d sometimes felt as if she was being very slowly buried alive.
Ali looked uncertain of what to say for a moment. ‘When he proposed it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. At the same time though, I knew that we couldn’t keep things the same way forever. I’m not getting any younger . . . . Once I thought I’d get married, have children, but it never happened. Perhaps this is my chance. Perhaps it’s time for me to make a commitment to someone else.’
She leaned back so the stewardess could take both their trays.
‘Then you’re lucky to have found him.’ Lou remembered when she and Hooker had taken that same step together. So different, given that they had been more than twenty years younger than Ali was now, but how full of optimism they had been. And how disappointed now, so many years later.
While Ali disturbed her other neighbour so she could get out of her seat, Lou began to prepare herself for sleep. She didn’t bother to check which films were playing. As soon as the cabin lights were dimmed, she slipped herself a sleeping pill donated by a doctor friend for the occasion, wrapped herself in her blanket, reclined her seat, put on her canary yellow eye mask and rested her head against the side of the plane. Sleep was the only thing that would make the flight go faster. She would catch up more with Ali in London. Ten minutes later, her mouth had fallen open enough to signify she was asleep but not quite enough to warrant total embarrassment.
Huge thanks are due to Clare Alexander, peerless agent and friend; to Patrick Janson-Smith, Laura Deacon, the rest of the fantastic team at HarperCollins, and Hazel Orme, for their enthusiasm and support. Thank you, too, to Lizy Buchan, without whose encouragement I would never have got to the end; to Julie Sharman and Naureen Bhatti, for their advice on things medical (any mistakes are mine alone); to Sue Fletcher, for things culinary; to Jane Turnbull and Dotti Irving for their unfailing support; and to all my women friends, who inspired me and gave me a necessary kick when things got tough.
Fanny Blake was a publisher for many years, editing both fiction and non-fiction before becoming a freelance journalist and writer. She has written various non-fiction titles, acted as ghost writer for a number of celebrities, and is also Books Editor of
Woman & Home
magazine.
What Women Want
is her first novel.
‘Wise, warm, funny and wonderfully observant.’
Cathy Kelly
‘Women take heart. Here is a novelist who understands exactly the comedy, absurdities and frustrations of your lives. A delicious read.’
Elizabeth Buchan
‘
What Women Want
is like having a long, funny and fascinating conversation with your very best friends and becoming deeply involved in their lives, families and love affairs.’Penny Vincenzi
‘Full of insight with a sharp wit, this is about real women in realistic situations, entertaining and thought provoking. Kept me reading far too late.’
Katie Fforde
‘Smart, funny, and uncannily like having your mind read.’
Rosie Thomas
Copyright © Fanny Blake 2011
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Fanny Blake asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 9780007359097
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Epub Edition © MARCH 2012 ISBN: 9780007359394
Version 2
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