Page 13 of The Girlfriend

T HE FOLLOWING MORNING WAS FRESH, WITH A SOFT BLUE SKY.

THE streets had been washed by the rain, but were now dry in the morning sun.

As Laura stepped out of her front door, she saw Daniel’s open-topped Mercedes turn at the corner and make its way down toward the house.

She went to the gate and waved as they came closer: Cherry was in the passenger seat.

“Hello, you two.”

They pulled up outside the house and Daniel gave Cherry a lingering kiss. Then he jumped out and, to Laura’s surprise, Cherry swung her legs over and shifted into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks again for a lovely evening, Laura,” called Cherry with a smile that didn’t seem to have any of the anxiety she’d displayed the previous evening. Then she drove off quickly, with a squeal of tires.

Laura was taken aback. “What’s she doing?”

“Going to work.”

“But . . . but that’s your car.”

“I’ve loaned it to her today. We were late getting up,” he explained, “and I didn’t want her to get into trouble at work.” He smiled to himself; now that Cherry had discovered sex properly, she found she loved it, much to his delight .

“Oh, right.” Laura, if she admitted it, felt a little put-out. She’d bought Daniel the car for his twenty-first birthday. It had been a special gift, one that she’d thought about for ages beforehand and had chosen carefully.

“That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Of course! How do you know she’s a good driver?”

Daniel laughed. “Oh, Mum, don’t worry. I think she’ll be fine. Although that was a bit of a racing start,” he said, watching as Cherry did another wheel spin as she turned out of the other end of the street.

“Well, it’s nice that you have such a trusting relationship.”

“Thanks again, Mum. For all the effort you put in last night. Fantastic steak.”

“My pleasure.”

“So, what did you think?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like her?”

“Very much.”

“She was nervous.”

“I thought as much. No need to be. Long-term, this one, is she?”

“Hope so,” he said, and made to go inside. “Do you fancy a coffee?”

“Love to, but I’ve already got a date. Bit of shopping, then meeting Isabella for lunch.”

Daniel kissed Laura on the cheek. “Sounds good. Send her my best.”

“I will.” She waved to Daniel as he closed the door; then she set off in the direction of the main junction where she’d pick up a cab to take her to the King’s Road.

* * *

“Love it,” said Isabella, “it’ll do very nicely for an office meeting.”

Laura lowered the striped shirt.

“I’m sorry, darling. It’s nice, it truly is, but where has all the fun gone?” Isabella asked.

“It is fun.”

Isabella pulled a face .

“Okay, this is fun,” said Laura, plucking at her blue sleeveless dress.

“Yes . . . ,” said Isabella, unconvincingly, looking kittenish in an emerald halter neck that set off her glossy red hair, “but what I mean is, when was the last time you bought something for a social occasion?”

Laura was silent. They’d come to their favorite restaurant, a small select French place just off the King’s Road.

They’d been coming for years and the waiters knew their preferred table and which special of the day they’d most likely enjoy.

Secrets had been exchanged here, promises sworn on, and confessions frequently applauded.

They had been friends for twenty-five years and told each other everything.

“You see?” she said, waggling a finger.

“Howard and I don’t go out anymore.”

Isabella put her hand on Laura’s. “No, well, he’s too busy with that trollop. Why do you put up with it?”

Laura folded her shirt and put it back in the stiff designer bag, not answering immediately.

“Divorce him.”

“No. Anyway, that’s just what he’d want.”

Isabella sighed, knowing the conversation had been had many times before. “What else, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Other evening entertainment.”

Laura was aware she didn’t really have any. “Bridge night?”

“Doesn’t count.”

“By the time I’ve finished work, I’m exhausted. Friday night I just want to stay in.”

“Well, there’s a reason to give it all up.

” Isabella couldn’t quite understand why she worked—it wasn’t for the money; Laura loved what she did.

It gave her a sense of identity and achievement, the fact she was successful in such a competitive, cutthroat industry.

And most of all, it was hers. Her company had been a friend to her when Daniel was away studying and Howard was away at golf. She couldn’t think of giving it up .

She smiled at Isabella. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Oh, trust me, darling, you soon would.” She leaned forward mischievously. “Anyway, don’t you miss it?”

Laura laughed, but Isabella was not to be put off and waited for her answer.

“Oh, I don’t know, I suppose so.”

“I know the perfect man. I’ll set you up. Nothing too obvious. You can come to dinner, there’ll be a group of us and I’ll sit him next to you.”

“Who is it?”

“You don’t know him. He’s a colleague of Richard’s.”

To Laura, the thought of small talk with a stranger was as enticing as a visit to the dentist. “No thanks. Anyway, that would just make me as bad as Howard.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, honestly. Anyway,” she said tantalizingly, “it’s not me going for romance at the moment. . . .”

Isabella leaned in. “Who?”

“He’s completely smitten. This could even be the real thing. . . .”

Izzy clapped her hands in delight. “Not Daniel?”

Laura nodded.

“What! Does this mean our great plans have been thwarted?”

“Completely blown away.” Their children had played together ever since they were babies.

Brigitte and Daniel had waved rattles at each other as they lay on blankets, while she and Isabella had attended whatever postnatal class, playgroup, or personal-training session they were up to that week.

They had always joked their children would marry.

“We met her last night,” said Laura.

“What’s her name?”

“Cherry.”

“Is that her real name?”

“Less of the sarcasm. She’s very nice.”

“Does she work?”

“She’s a real estate agent. In training.”

“Right. ”

“We all have to train, Izzy.”

“Of course.”

Laura laughed. “You’re not really upset that our machinations came to nothing, are you? Brigitte will find a very fine man.”

Isabella sighed and brushed this away. “I know. So, tell me more. Where does . . . Cherry come from?”

“She lives in Tooting.”

“Tooting?”

Laura heard the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. “Isabella Rudd, you are such a snob. I’ve heard it’s got lots of great Indian restaurants.”

“Darling, so has Goa. And I’d rather go there. So, how long have they been dating?”

“A week.”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “ A week? And he’s already madly in love with her?”

“Well, he hasn’t said so exactly, but they do seem to be spending every spare minute together. This morning, they even did the commute together . . . well, until she took off in his car.”

Isabella frowned. “Sorry? She’s waltzing around town in his Merc?”

“Well, to her office. I’m sure she had to park it, once she got there.”

Isabella looked quite worried and Laura smiled. “What?”

“Nothing. . .”

“Come on, I can tell you’re dying to say . . .”

Isabella shrugged. “It’s just that, you know, she’s from Tooting, he’s here in South Ken . . . different ends of the spectrum . . . and she does seem to have attached herself to him rather quickly.”

Laura’s mouth dropped. “You’re not suggesting . . . No! My goodness, Izzy, that is one heck of an imagination. I could use your help on my television scripts.”

Isabella laughed. “Okay, okay, sorry. Just keeping my sadly-never-to-be-son-in-law’s best interests at heart.”

“You know, I was thinking of inviting her to the villa, when we all go out next week.”

“Saint-Tropez?” said Isabella, taken aback .

“Yes. Make her feel like part of the family.”

“That’s your downtime. The only two weeks of the year you actually let yourself relax.”

“I know, but she won’t be there the whole two weeks. I was thinking maybe she could join Daniel and me for a long weekend or something. You and Brigitte will be down the road and it’ll be fun.”

“Sounds great, darling. And I’ll get to meet her.”

“Be nice,” Laura said sternly.

“Of course!” Isabella smiled. “I’m just jealous. I’d already planned the wedding.”