Page 7 of Wife After Wife

“If you want. I promise.”

But Katie wondered what she would do with the information, now that she had it. She really wanted to know what Harry’s thoughts would be. Would he excuse Charles’s behavior? Harry looked up to his older friend, saw him as a role model. If he found out what he’d been up to, would it be more likely that he, too, might think it was OK to stray?

Cassandra’s words echoed in her mind:They’re all at it, you know what they’re like. Idiot boys.

CHAPTER 4

Harry

The taxi driver cursed as a woman loaded with shopping bags stepped off the curb and into his path. “Jesus Christ!The crowds are mental this year. You done your Christmas shopping yet, guv?”

“No, I’ve only just sorted the wife’s birthday,” replied Harry, looking out at the throngs fighting their way along Oxford Street.

The wife?Why was he speaking like a northern comedian?

Grimly determined office workers weaved through the herds of shoppers stopping to gaze at the Christmas lights overhead. Bob Geldof had switched them on, Harry remembered. The man was having quite a year.

The wet road reflected the headlights of London double-deckers and black cabs; in the yellowy interiors of the buses, commuters sat with their noses buried in theirEvening Standards.

As Harry’s taxi drew alongside a bus, a girl with Walkman headphones clamped onto moussed blond hair wiped a circle in the steamed-up window and peered through. She caught Harry’s eye and smiled, and Harry winked back.

“Did you see the match last night?” said the driver. “What a finish.”

Oh no. Harry knew if he was ever to fully understand the British man on the street, he was going to have to watch more football.

“Missed it! Christmas function.” It was true. Yesterday’s lunch had gone on until seven thirty.

“You a Spurs man, perchance?”

Shouldhe be a Spurs man? It was time he chose a team. He decided to channel Charles, who was far better at all this than he was. “Chelsea, actually.”

“You must be well pleased, great season so far.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Harry needed to change the subject before he was rumbled. “My wife’s birthday is less than two weeks before Christmas. I’m never sure whether to get one big present or two smaller ones.”

“I’d get two. But they could be connected. Like, a necklace, then the matching earrings for Christmas.”

“Excellent idea.”

The cab turned off Oxford Street and continued at its snail’s pace toward Soho. Harry was meeting Katie, Charles, and Cassandra in the Dog and Duck before they headed to L’Escargot for Katie’s birthday dinner. He looked at his watch; he was early. His birthday shopping in Selfridges had been a smash and grab. He’d hovered in the lingerie department but had realized anything focusing attention on the bedroom might not be wise, at present. Too loaded. Maybe she’d think he was trying to send a message—that sex was for entertainment, for pleasure. Whereas she was fixated on getting pregnant again.

She denied it, but he knew her too well. And while he wasn’t against it, he was mostly in favor of giving the baby business a rest, for now. He was only twenty-two, and Katie wasn’toldold. Not biological-clock-ticking old. There was plenty of time.

He wished they could rewind to how they’d been when they were first together. When sex was passionate, spontaneous, fun. Now there was always this unspoken question: Would itwork?

He sighed and rested his head back. Since Summer, things had shifted. He’d done his best to reinject some of the spontaneity that had led to Katie becoming pregnant in the first place. But trying to be spontaneous was a contradiction in terms.

He’d abandoned lingerie and headed for jewelry, choosing a simple gold heart necklace with a discreet diamond. Very Katie.

The taxi had stopped. In spite of the chill December air, people were standing outside the Dog and Duck. They could well have been there since lunchtime. Harry loved the Christmas vibe of London, when normal office hours (and behavior) were abandoned, replaced by a week or two of lunches that morphed into evening drinks, parties galore, dashing out to shop between times. The sun was long gone by four, the winter darkness giving life to the Christmas lights.

“There you go,” he said. “Keep the change. Happy Christmas!”

Harry’s mood lifted as he entered the smoky, packed pub. He made his way to the bar, smiling at punters who lifted their drinks out of the way as he squeezed past. “Thanks... cheers... thanks very much...”

He was tall enough to see over most of the heads and quickly established that he was the first of the group to arrive. As well as Charles and Cassandra, Katie’s school friend Gemma and her boyfriend, Jonathan, were joining them. Gemma was pleasant enough, but Jonathan was altogether wet. Worked in book publishing and tried too hard to look the part.

“Yes-what-can-I-get-you?”