Page 9 of Fire Must Burn

‘You should know better than I.’

‘I lie to myself as much as I do to anyone,’ said Iris. ‘Don’t hold out on me, Madam Cassandra, tell me my fortune.’

‘I once wanted to be a fortune teller, but there was no future in it.’

‘I’m being serious, Gwen.’

‘You were telling the truth – for the most part.’

‘Ah,’ said Iris. ‘Where did I go astray?’

‘When he asked if you were ever lovers.’

‘You thought I was lying.’

‘I thought you were being … ambiguous.’

‘It was that word. Lovers. I don’t think we were. Not really.’

‘But?’

‘But I think I answered a different question than the one he was asking.’

‘So do I,’ said Gwen. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

‘No,’ said Iris. ‘It doesn’t change anything. And here is where I turn off. Are you seeing Sally later?’

‘He’s working late tonight.’

‘Pity. I thought you’d be taking more advantage of Ronnie being away this summer.’

‘I have been. During our lunch hour. It’s a quick walk to his flat.’

‘So that’s where you’ve been going. I should have guessed.’

‘I thought you had.’

‘You always return looking as immaculate as ever. Let me think. You missed lunch with me yesterday, and three times last week. My goodness! You must be starving!’

‘Hungry, but happy,’ said Gwen.

‘See you in the morning,’ said Iris. ‘The world must be peopled!’

‘The world must be peopled,’ returned Gwen. ‘Goodnight, Iris.’

‘Goodnight, Gwen.’

Iris walked down to the Regent’s Canal where theCecilia, her current abode, waited. She waved to her neighbour, Casper, who was as usual seated in a worn easy chair he had somehow manoeuvred onto the roof of his boat. He was smoking a pipe and watching the changing colours of the sky as the sun descended.

She felt enough of a glow from the shandy to forego adding more alcohol to her meagre evening meal, then sat out on the fore well, an unopened book on her lap.It’s That Man Againwasn’t on tonight, and there was nothing else on the radio that she wanted to listen to, so she contented herself with watching a family of ducks paddling about.

Some song was running through her head. What was it? She hummed a few bars, then placed it. ‘The Internationale’. Of course, that would be the one to resurface even after she had suppressed it so many years ago.

She went back inside and changed into her pyjamas, then lay on top of the covers. The wind kicked up outside, and theCeciliaswayed back and forth, bumping gently against the dock.

Well, Tony, you’re back in my life, she thought. And I’m on a boat.

How appropriate.