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By Root 1607 0

not to go through the motions he felt obliged to do with younger women. That’s not to say my heart didn’t still leap when he rang in the evenings or at weekends, so with that in mind, these last few days, I’d gone one step further. I’d turned the whole blinking lot off. The answer machine was on permanently at home, the mobile was off, and I only answered my work phone when I could see who was calling. One or two clients had commented in surprise, ‘I did try your mobile’ but no business was lost, and on the whole, life went on. The world, I discovered, continued to rotate on its axis. No one died. But I hoped, as a consequence, that whatever Ivan felt for me, which I knew to be largely sexual, would dwindle. I hoped he’d take the hint. So that when I eventually told him – as of course I would; I knew the rules – the deed, effectively, would already have been done.

He’d rung my landline once – left a breezy message. Rung the shop too, left a similar one there. I hadn’t exactly been inundated, though. And I must admit, I’d expected a bit more. But as I sat on the edge of Laura’s spare room bed and finally allowed myself to turn on my mobile, as I’d promised myself I would when I was away from Lonely Old Home and could trust myself, a few hours before a smart dinner party, not to ring him back, my hands, I noticed, trembled slightly.

I knew my inbox would overfloweth. It did indeed. With all manner of people – work, friends, Laura, as she’d said – but only one from Ivan.

‘Ring me when you’re about.’

I stared. Looked at the date. Four days ago. Well, that said it all, didn’t it? I raised my eyes slowly to the pale green silk, stretched across the walls on batons, which I dimly recognized as being a nice touch by Mr de Granville. Casual, nonchalant, offhand. Hardly renting his hair. I realized I was severely taken aback. Downright shocked. I absolutely knew we hadn’t been a serious item, nothing special, with no longevity inherent; knew, when I took up with Ivan, I was dipping my toe in the peripatetic London singles scene, but I hadn’t realized quite how disposable I’d be. But then again, that was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? It made the split so much easier for me. Which was marvellous.

I got up off the bed, quelling the lump in my throat. I put my things mechanically in drawers: hung up my dress for tonight. Then I went quickly downstairs, in search of company.

I found Laura running through the front hall to the dining room. She was bent double clutching a huge pile of plates, looking harassed.

‘Bastards,’ she muttered. as she went.

‘Who?’ My voice was tinny.

She stopped, turned, wild-eyed. ‘Oh. The bloody bin men. They come on a Friday, but if I forget to take the rubbish to the bottom of the drive, they won’t come up. Now I’ve got a fortnight of stinking ordure waiting to greet my guests in all their finery tonight.’

‘But surely it’s round the back?’

‘Trust me, the slightest breeze and it’s round the front. They’ll be asphyxiated on the spot. I’ll be scraping them off the doorstep. I’ll have to take it all down to the tip.’ She hurried on to the dining room.

‘I’ll go, if you like.’

She stopped. Turned back. ‘Oh, Hattie, would you?’ Relief cleared her face. ‘But you’ve just driven all the way from London.’

‘It’s fine, I’d like something to do.’ True. ‘Just tell me where to go.’

‘Maybe Seffy could go with you?’

‘No, no, don’t worry,’ I said quickly, ‘I’ll go on my own.’ I strode off towards the back door. Really on my own. No Ivan now, no Seffy… no. That way madness lay. Breathe. Just breathe. ‘Where do I go, Laura?’

‘I’d ask Maggie,’ she was saying, following me to the back door, ‘but she’s gone to collect Kit. His car’s broken down again.’

‘She’s still here?’ I was feeling raw, and couldn’t keep the incredulity from my voice. Disingenuous too, for I knew. Had spoken to Maggie – had obviously spoken to my business partner. But I realized I’d wanted to say it. Say something harsh.

‘Oh. Yes.’ Laura looked flustered. ‘Just finishing off, and she’s been invaluable. Such a help with this party, doing the flowers