agreed though she thought the phone bill for £368 was a bit much and made more coffee. They asked about each others’ families, mutual friends who had split off on either side and other friends who had never been mutual.
They ate lunch. Caroline as always ate lots though she looked like she ate nothing. They listened to Tracy Chapman and Kate Bush for old times’ sake. By 4pm they knew all about the past year of each others’ lives and Caroline had to leave. She left leaving an address in New York – luck being what it was for Carrie she’d been given a flat in New York in exchange for her London flat – minimum six months, possibility of two years – and the offer to Saz of a sofabed whenever she wanted it.
Saz closed the door behind Caroline and sighed. The phone rang. It was Gary.
“I’ve got the names of two hundred women, physical descriptions – height, weight, hair and eye colour. I’ve even got marital status and occupation where available.”
“Gary, brilliant! You’re an angel, what do I owe you?”
“Two tickets to ‘As You Like It’ at the Barbican?”
“Sure sweetheart, when do we go?”
“Ah. Well actually, I’d really just like the tickets if you don’t mind. I’ve got someone I’d like to take.”
“Gary! You’ve got a date?”
“Yes and no questions or you don’t get the info. You book the tickets, I’ll send the papers.”
“It’s a deal. But she’d better be cute!”
Saz did the dishes and made a mental note to call Helen or Judith as soon as she was finished cleaning up. She wanted to get cross-referencing as soon as possible.
The phone rang again just as she was putting away the last cup. It was John Clark.
“John. Any progress for me?”
“Well Ms Martin, I’ve typed out a full physical description, a list of all of the restaurants we ever went to, I’ve got the date of when she broke her ankle and, I don’t know if this will be of any use to you but I’ve got a postcard she sent me …”
“A postcard?”
“Yes, she sometimes went on business trips midweek – once though, it overlapped our dinner night. So she sent a postcard to my work instead.”
“Where’s it from?”
“New York.”
“New York! Any address?”
“Well just a hotel address …”
“John that’s brilliant! Don’t you see? She’ll have to have given the hotel some name and address for London!”
“Oh yes, of course, I didn’t think … shall I call the hotel?”
“No, there’s no way they’d give that information overthe phone. Just get all your info to me and I’ll see what I can do. I was thinking of taking a quick transatlantic trip anyway …”
Saz hung up having arranged to meet John the next day.
Then she picked up the phone to tell Caroline the good news.
CHAPTER 9
Leftovers
After a while of living together it became obvious I’d have to meet more of her past. And as I couldn’t meet her family then it would have to be friends. And ex-lovers. I hate meeting ex-lovers. I hate the history that they hold. We both have ex-lovers who are men. Mine are an eclectic collection of performers and artists, men I knew at university, old flatmates, present lovers of other friends – about one third of them gay. Some of them were gay when we met, some weren’t. It took me a long time to make up my mind too.
The Woman with the Kelly McGillis body only has a few ex-lovers. She has three women and three men. Her men are a different sort of men to mine, mine are much more like boys. Hers are a doctor, a lawyer and a carpenter. Men to take home to mother. When we first met she couldn’t get over the number of ex-lovers I have, male and female.
“But Maggie, how did you fit them all in?”
I chose to avoid the obvious joke. I can be quite ruthless when it comes to comedy.
“Look honey, most of them are friends – we were friends, we became lovers and then we went back to being friendsagain. If you don’t have to spend the first three months just getting to
They ate lunch. Caroline as always ate lots though she looked like she ate nothing. They listened to Tracy Chapman and Kate Bush for old times’ sake. By 4pm they knew all about the past year of each others’ lives and Caroline had to leave. She left leaving an address in New York – luck being what it was for Carrie she’d been given a flat in New York in exchange for her London flat – minimum six months, possibility of two years – and the offer to Saz of a sofabed whenever she wanted it.
Saz closed the door behind Caroline and sighed. The phone rang. It was Gary.
“I’ve got the names of two hundred women, physical descriptions – height, weight, hair and eye colour. I’ve even got marital status and occupation where available.”
“Gary, brilliant! You’re an angel, what do I owe you?”
“Two tickets to ‘As You Like It’ at the Barbican?”
“Sure sweetheart, when do we go?”
“Ah. Well actually, I’d really just like the tickets if you don’t mind. I’ve got someone I’d like to take.”
“Gary! You’ve got a date?”
“Yes and no questions or you don’t get the info. You book the tickets, I’ll send the papers.”
“It’s a deal. But she’d better be cute!”
Saz did the dishes and made a mental note to call Helen or Judith as soon as she was finished cleaning up. She wanted to get cross-referencing as soon as possible.
The phone rang again just as she was putting away the last cup. It was John Clark.
“John. Any progress for me?”
“Well Ms Martin, I’ve typed out a full physical description, a list of all of the restaurants we ever went to, I’ve got the date of when she broke her ankle and, I don’t know if this will be of any use to you but I’ve got a postcard she sent me …”
“A postcard?”
“Yes, she sometimes went on business trips midweek – once though, it overlapped our dinner night. So she sent a postcard to my work instead.”
“Where’s it from?”
“New York.”
“New York! Any address?”
“Well just a hotel address …”
“John that’s brilliant! Don’t you see? She’ll have to have given the hotel some name and address for London!”
“Oh yes, of course, I didn’t think … shall I call the hotel?”
“No, there’s no way they’d give that information overthe phone. Just get all your info to me and I’ll see what I can do. I was thinking of taking a quick transatlantic trip anyway …”
Saz hung up having arranged to meet John the next day.
Then she picked up the phone to tell Caroline the good news.
CHAPTER 9
Leftovers
After a while of living together it became obvious I’d have to meet more of her past. And as I couldn’t meet her family then it would have to be friends. And ex-lovers. I hate meeting ex-lovers. I hate the history that they hold. We both have ex-lovers who are men. Mine are an eclectic collection of performers and artists, men I knew at university, old flatmates, present lovers of other friends – about one third of them gay. Some of them were gay when we met, some weren’t. It took me a long time to make up my mind too.
The Woman with the Kelly McGillis body only has a few ex-lovers. She has three women and three men. Her men are a different sort of men to mine, mine are much more like boys. Hers are a doctor, a lawyer and a carpenter. Men to take home to mother. When we first met she couldn’t get over the number of ex-lovers I have, male and female.
“But Maggie, how did you fit them all in?”
I chose to avoid the obvious joke. I can be quite ruthless when it comes to comedy.
“Look honey, most of them are friends – we were friends, we became lovers and then we went back to being friendsagain. If you don’t have to spend the first three months just getting to
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