Page 137 of Wife After Wife

Harry snorted. “What does the bearded one actually do here?”

“You’re bearded, Harry. I like it, by the way.” She sat up and put the cross around her neck, and he did up the clasp for her. The moment of intimacy took him back.

“Yes, but mine is a fashion beard. His is a brown rice beard.”

“He runs music therapy classes. Bongos, mainly. And acting therapy. He gets people to argue with each other, it’s very purging.”

“So people who’re stressed because they spend time arguing come to Wales and argue some more?”

“Harry, your cynicism does you no favors. If you really want to be happy again, you need to open your mind a little more. Anyway, what I wanted to discuss with you was Maria. She’s applied for lots of jobs, but she hasn’t got anywhere.”

“Probably terrifies the life out of interviewers,” said Harry. Maria had hardly cracked a smile all weekend.

“It’s just the way she is. She’s a serious person. A deep thinker.”

“So you want me to find her a job?”

“That’s what I was hoping. I was wondering about an admin position, perhaps?”

“Leave it with me.”

•••

After Christmas, Maria started in Rose’s human resources department. Harry offered to buy her a flat, but she took a room in a convent that provided accommodation for Catholic girls.

Harry’s New Year resolution was to increase the regularity of his gym visits. At lunchtime on his first day back at work, aware that he was a post-Christmas cliché, he set off for Abs Fab, his Knightsbridge gym.

The club was so exclusive that its members were all already thin. It was more of a maintenance thing. He took to the bench press and began his prescribed number of leg raises. To distract himself from the agony, he surreptitiously watched the other gym goers. He hated the men on principle. The women were mostly beautiful, with their sleek hair, toned limbs, and gentle perspiration.

And their bottoms. He tried not to look, but they were exquisite, displayed in their Lycra, all peachy with only the slightest of wobbles as they moved from machine to machine.

His eye was caught by a particularly fine example perched on an exercise bike, the legs attached to it a blur as they pedaled their way to perfection. He was admiring the way the taut buttocks splayed across the saddle, then tapered up into a tiny waist, when he noticed their owner watching him in the mirror through big blue eyes. She was tiny, with a silvery-blond ponytail, her cheeks rosy from exercise, and Harry found he couldn’t look away. This was mostly because she was arrestingly pretty, but also because he thought he’d seen her somewhere before.

He smiled.

The girl regarded him for a moment longer, then returned the smile before slowing down and dismounting. She took her towel, wiped it across the back of her neck, patted the bare skin above her tiny bra top, and then flicked it across her shoulder and walked off toward the changing rooms, glancing sideways at Harry as she passed.

Damn, but she was gorgeous!

Did she know who he was? Undoubtedly. A certain type of womanhaunted these places, like spiders in a web. But Harry wasn’t against the notion of being lured; it had been a long time. He wasn’t on the lookout for another wife, but the prospect of a liaison was appealing.

He felt his spirits lift. He’d forgotten what it was like, the excitement of a new chase.

•••

Over the following weeks, Harry didn’t see the petite blonde again. He was disappointed, but it was probably just as well. She’d looked very young and, had he taken up with her, there would no doubt be many a raised eyebrow.

For now, his virtual relationship with his virtual wife would have to do.

In March, he received the news that Anki would be coming to London in May. Her flight was booked, as was a room at the Holiday Inn in Whitechapel.

Eros03: Whitechapel? Interesting choice of accommodation. May I ask what inspired it?

Chloe0573: I wanted to be as close to the city as possible!

Eros03: Ah. The City of London is but a small part of the city of London. You want the city not the City. Just one of the British idiosyncrasies I look forward to enlightening you about. Can you unbook it? I’ll find you an alternative.

He organized a suite at the Savoy, on the Rose account. She’d find out soon enough it was only pocket money to him. If things worked out, then the Savoy would be a fine venue for the start of their real-life relationship. If they didn’t, then she still deserved a treat.