Isabel Wolff - Out of the Blue

‘Was it?’ she said, her eyes round. ‘Really, Faith, that’s not like you.’

‘I came here for a reason,’ I went on, my heart now banging like a drum. ‘Because there’s something I need to ask you.’

‘Faith, darling,’ said Lily seriously, ‘Jennifer and I are all ears.’

‘Well,’ I began nervously, ‘I know this will sound silly, but last night you said something that disturbed me.’

‘Oh, Faith,’ she said before taking a sip of wheatgrass juice, ‘I’m always saying things that disturb you, we both know that.’

‘Yes, but this wasn’t in the usual category of your flippant off-the-cuff remarks. It was not only what you said, but the way you said it.’

‘And what was it, then?’ she enquired.

‘Well, you said,’ I said, ‘you said … You said that you thought I was “marvellous” to “trust” Peter.’ Lily’s arched eyebrows lifted an inch up her high, domed brow.

‘Well I do, darling!’

‘Why?’

‘Because I think any woman who trusts any man is a complete and utter marvel, given that the species are such beasts. I mean, why do you think I dump them at such a rate?’

‘Oh, I see. So it was just a general observation, was it?’

‘Yes!’ she said gaily. ‘Of course it was! You are silly to let that worry you, Faith. I thought you always prided yourself on never believing anything I say.’

‘Oh, I do!’ I exclaimed. ‘I mean, I know that you’re usually being funny. You like to pull my leg. I don’t mind – I never have done – and I know it’s still easy to do.’

‘Faith Value,’ she said with an indulgent shake of her head.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I suppose I am. And you’re still Lily White.’

‘I know,’ said Lily with a smile. ‘I’m sorry if I worried you,’ she went on as she chewed delicately on her seaweed roll. ‘It’s just my sense of humour, darling. You know that.’

‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘But last night I couldn’t help wondering, if what you said was a joke or not.’

‘Of course it was,’ she said, ‘don’t give it a second thought.’

‘Oh, good,’ I said, vastly relieved, and I allowed myself to smile.

‘I was just joking, Faith.’

‘Oh, great.’

‘Because I’m good at badinage.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘I was just pulling your leg … ’ She was flicking through a copy of Moi!

‘I know … ’

‘I was just winding you up, like I do.’

‘Yup. Got that,’ I said as I stood up to go. ‘Great to get it sorted out.’

‘ Although … ’ Lily added softly, without looking up.

‘Although what?’ I said.

‘Well … ’ She sighed as she lifted her gaze to mine. ‘Now we’re on the subject, I must say that Peter didn’t exactly seem relaxed. In fact I thought he was decidedly sharp. Mind you,’ she continued judiciously, ‘Peter’s often sharp with me. I know he doesn’t really like me,’ she went on philosophically. ‘I’m his bete noire ,’ she added with a throaty laugh.

‘It’s a personality thing,’ I said diplomatically. ‘It’s just one of those little clashes one sometimes gets. But he has huge professional respect for you,’ I said.

‘Does he?’ she said with a sceptical smile.

‘In any case,’ I went on quickly, ‘between you and me, Peter’s got a lot of hassle at work so he’s a little bit anxious at the moment.’

‘Anxious? Darling,’ she added, ‘he was jumpier than the Royal Ballet.’

‘Well … ’

‘And I couldn’t help noticing how trim he looked. And did you see he was wearing a Hermès tie?’

‘Was he? I wouldn’t know. I don’t really notice labels.’

‘Yes, Hermès. They’re seventy pounds a throw. Now, I knew you hadn’t bought it for him,’ she went on. ‘So I couldn’t help wondering who had?’ I stared at her.

‘He bought it himself.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. As an investment. He said his headhunter has advised him to smarten up a bit. Peter’s looking for a new job, you see – I didn’t tell you this, but we think he’s about to be kicked out.’

‘Really?’ said Lily. ‘Oh! How awful. ’

‘Well, yes, because he’s been happy at Fenton & Friend.’

‘I’ll say he has,’ she said.

‘Sorry?’

‘All I mean is that any man would be happy working at Fenton & Friend.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well,’ she said as she adjusted Jennifer’s butterfly barrette, ‘it’s stuffed with gorgeous girls.’

‘Oh. Is it?’

‘And I thought I heard someone say, the other day, that they’d seen Peter having lunch with an attractive blonde. But I could have been wrong,’ she added softly.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you were. Or rather you were mistaken. Because Peter has to take authors and agents out to dinner sometimes. It’s all part of his job.’

‘Of course it is, Faith, I know. But … ’

‘But what? ’

‘Well, he is a publisher, and so … ’

‘Yes?’

‘I really hate to say this, darling, but maybe he’s making someone an advance ?’ I gazed into Lily’s liquid brown eyes. They’re huge and hypnotic, slanting in shape, with interminable thick, curling lashes.

‘An advance?’ I repeated. I could hear the beating of my heart.

‘Maybe he’s looking for a new chapter,’ she went on softly, then took another sip of wheatgrass juice.

‘Lily, what are you talking about?’

‘Maybe, in the bookshop of life, he’s been picking up more than a Penguin … ’

‘Look, I –’

‘And the only reason I say this is because his speech last night was so odd. Katie spotted the Freudian slip, Faith, didn’t you?’

‘Well, I … ’

‘And after all, you have been married for a very long time.’

‘But … ’

‘All I’m suggesting is that in your situation, well, I’d be just a little on my guard.’

‘On my guard?’

‘Vigilant. Now, I’m only saying this as your friend.’

‘I know … ’

‘Because I have only your best interests at heart.’

‘Yes. Thanks … ’

‘But I think you ought to do a Christine … ’ I looked at her.

‘What? Hamilton ?’ I said aghast. ‘You mean, search his pockets?’ Lily was fiddling with the Buddhist power beads at her slender wrist.

‘That’s what many women would do, Faith,’ she said reasonably. ‘But don’t worry, darling. I’m sure there’s absolutely nothing to be concerned about.’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ I said, suddenly panicking. ‘Maybe there is. ’

‘No, no, I’m sure it’s fine ,’ she said soothingly. ‘But all I’m saying, as your best and oldest friend, is that maybe you should, well, sharpen up a bit.’

‘What?’

‘Learn to spot the signs.’

‘I wouldn’t know how,’ I groaned.

‘Of course you wouldn’t, you’re so trusting. But that’s something I can help you with, darling, because as luck would have it, Moi! did a big feature on this only last month.’ She stood up and began to sort through a pile of back issues on the floor.

‘Now, where is it?’ she said. ‘Oh, here we are!’ she exclaimed happily. ‘You’re in luck. “Is Your Man a Love-Rodent?”’ she read. ‘Seven classic signs: one, he’s distracted and distant. Two, he’s “working late”; three, he’s looking fit; four, his wardrobe’s improved. Five, he’s not interested in sex; six, he’s bought a mobile phone and seven – and I gather that this is the clincher, Faith … ’ Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door.