Lindsay Armstrong - Dangerous Deceiver

‘I am aware of that,’ Martha said, counting to ten beneath her breath as she fished in her purse and started to count out the exact money for her lunch and wine. ‘And no, I haven’t made any other friends as yet, but it will come, I’m sure. It also seems to me that sworn enemies such as you and I can’t help fighting, so I was right, there seems little point in this kind of truce, besides which it’s a bit exhausting. But never let it be said I’m cheap in the matter of free lunches.’ And she pushed the pile of coins in front of him, adding with what she hoped was insouciance and her best Australian accent, ‘Good-day, mate.’

But as she went to turn away he caught her wrist, and said, so that only she could hear in the colourful throng enjoying the sun in the open air. ‘You won’t last, you know, Martha. If I hadn’t had my wits about me you’d have gone to bed with me three years ago.’

But Martha stayed to hear no more. With an upward chop of her wrist she broke his grip, gathered her bags and strode away.

‘Ah-ha!’ Madame said with deep satisfaction a few days later, days during which Martha had reminded herself of an angry tigress lashing her tail, but it hadn’t appeared to affect her image.

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