Jane Green - Bookends

James turns to look at me in confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘No. What are you talking about? These are incredible. They are the most beautiful, subtle, inspiring paintings I’ve seen for years. And I don’t even know what I’m talking about.’

James looks embarrassed. ‘Does that mean you like them?’

I start to laugh. ‘Jesus Christ, James. I love them. In fact, to quote Woody Allen, I don’t just love them, I lurrrve them. I loooove them. We’ll take ’em.’

‘Are you serious?’

I ignore the fact that I’ve just done exactly what Lucy did earlier and have taken a decision without consulting Lucy. But what the hell.

‘More serious,’ I say, ‘than I’ve ever been in my life.’ Unfortunately I ruin that last statement somewhat by hiccuping at the end of it, but nevertheless the sentiment remains the same.

‘James,’ I say, extending my right hand, ‘it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’

‘And where the hell have you been until this time on a Sunday night?’

‘Having sex.’ I keep a straight face for a while but the silence becomes too much for me and I collapse with amusement at my little joke.

‘That’s not your line, that’s my line. I hope you’re joking.’

‘Why? What would be so terrible if I wasn’t?’

‘It wouldn’t be terrible, as it happens,’ Si muses. ‘It would be pretty bloody cataclysmic, that’s all. Headline-making stuff, as it happens. Big Bird Bonks Again.’

‘Si! That’s not nice. Anyway. No bonking. I’ve been with James.’ I slur ever so slightly, but enough for Si to pick up on.

‘James? James who? Oh my God! I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I completely forgot.’ Si plays the innocent as I laugh, knowing that he’ll have been sitting by his phone for hours, waiting for me to call him back, to give him the full report on my evening.

‘But more to the point,’ he continues, ‘you, Catherine Warner, are drunk as a skunk, aren’t you? Aren’t you?’

‘Shut up, Mum,’ I intone in my best truculent teenager impression. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘Good God. Wonders will never cease. You don’t mean to tell me, Cath, that you’ve been out having a good time? With a man, no less? Until…’ He pauses, presumably to look at his watch. ‘Quarter to midnight?’

‘Yup, yup and yup.’

‘So tell me about James, then, sweets. Is he delicious?’ He smacks his lips together wickedly. ‘Did you eat him up.’

‘Whatever that means, Si,’ I laugh, ‘no. He’s just a nice guy. A new friend. A new addition to the family.’

‘We can’t have any new additions until I’ve vetted them,’ Si grumbles. ‘Which means that I’ll have to meet him pretty soon. So how was the evening from heaven with James the hunky estate agent who’s got a crush on you? Was it heavenly?’

‘Someone’s been talking to Lucy a bit too much these days. He’s not hunky and neither does he have a crush on me. He’s just nice. And a fantastic artist.’

‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much…’

‘Si!’ I stop him.

‘Anway, you can’t blame me for talking to Lucy too much these days. You’re never around.’

I can’t tell him that I’m still trying to avoid the Will issue, but perhaps now that drink has loosened my tongue, perhaps I can be honest with Si, tell him what I’ve heard, warn him to be careful.

‘Si, I did speak to Alison Bailey.’

‘You cow! I knew you had. When? I bet you spoke to her weeks ago, didn’t you?’

‘No,’ I lie expertly, knowing that the truth would send him into a fury. ‘Actually she phoned me back this morning.’

‘So what’s the story with William the Conqueror?’

‘Well, he doesn’t seem to conquer people’s hearts. Their hatred, more like.’

There’s a shocked silence and I know I’ve pushed it too far.

‘Joke, Si.’

‘Was it?’

‘Of course,’ I sigh. ‘But she did say he’s…’ I pause, trying to think of a way to put the message across, yet couch it in terms that aren’t too bitchy, ‘he’s got a side.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I think she meant he’s a bit two-faced. She just said be careful, that’s all.’

‘Oh God,’ Si mutters. ‘First you hate him, now I’m told to be careful. Why is it that Will’s the first man I’ve met in ages whom I’ve really liked, and everyone hates him?’

‘Sod’s law, I suppose.’

‘Ha! Got you. Everyone does hate him, don’t they?’

‘Oh, Si, I’m sorry. I just think you can do so much better.’

‘Well, if I can do so much better, how come I’m not doing so much better?’

‘I don’t know, my darling. I do know that I’d go out with you in a flash. If I were a bloke, that is.’

‘Why? Why would you go out with me in a flash?’ I know instantly that Si’s in one of his miserable moods, feeling sorry for himself, sitting, as it were, on the pity pot. And I also know that most of the time I pull him up sharply, but tonight he needs to have his ego stroked. Just for a short time.

‘Because you’re handsome. And funny. And you’re the second-greatest cook I know.’

‘Is Lucy the greatest?’

‘Yup.’

‘Well, that’s okay, then.’

There’s a silence.

‘You haven’t finished,’ Si says.

‘Oh?’ I smile affectionately. ‘Haven’t I?’

‘No. You’ve forgotten about me being kind, and sensitive, and individual, and hating Barbra Streisand.’

‘You hate Barbra Streisand?’ I’m shocked.

‘Well, no. But I can’t stand being such a cliché.’

‘Oh, Si. I do love you. Even though you are a pain.’

‘I love you too, Cath. So tell me more about James. Is he a boxer shorts or briefs kind of guy? Or,’ and he pauses, ‘heaven forbid, a Y-front man?’

‘Not heaven forbid if they’re Calvin Klein,’ I state seriously. ‘You have taught me well, Si.’

‘True,’ he muses. ‘Calvins will always pass. So which is he?’

‘I think probably a boxer shorts kind of guy.’

‘You think? You think? You mean you didn’t find out?’

‘Forgive me. Next time I go to his house I promise I’ll rifle through his underwear drawers.’

‘Next time you go to his house I expect you to strip him personally. So what’s his house like anyway?’

‘Oh, Si.’ I snuggle down under the duvet and get ready for a long gossip. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. You would have loved it.’ And off I go.

‘You’re impossible,’ I say, raising my eyes to the ceiling, as Si rolls down the window of his car and urges me to hurry up.

‘Come on, come on,’ he says, pressing the horn to irritate me further, but I speed up and open the door of the Beetle.

‘God, I love this,’ he says, leaning over to give me a kiss. ‘I can’t believe it’s September, look at that sun. On days like this I wish I had a convertible. Anyway, sweets, I can’t believe you actually agreed to let me take you shopping. We haven’t done this since…’

‘Since I was thin?’ I finish off his sentence for him and we both laugh.

‘ You might say that,’ he says, pulling away from the kerb, ‘but I couldn’t possibly comment.’

‘So, where are we off to? Not Bond Street again?’ I groan.

‘Actually, we are going to Bond Street, but don’t worry, I’m not going to drag you into the top shops. I know how uncomfortable they make you feel.’

‘And no skirts, Si. Please, no skirts.’

‘What about gorgeous floaty summer dresses?’ He looks at me from the corner of his eye, trying to hide the smile that’s fighting to escape, while I make excellent vomiting noises.