Imogen by Jilly Cooper

you.’
    He was so lovely to everyone thought Imogen as she introduced him. Miss Nugent was now patting her crenellated curls, and simpering like a schoolgirl. Even Miss Hockney had put down her shopping list. Gloria was smouldering so hard she’d burst into flames any minute.
    ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she said.
    Nicky shook his head. ‘I must get down to the club.’
    Outside the swing doors he kissed Imogen again.
    ‘It’s been a very long three weeks,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re still wearing my bracelet.’
    Funny, he thought, as he drove down the High Street, how pleased he was to see her. If Painter hadn’t nagged him about not winning his bet, he doubted if he’d have bothered to look her up again. But now he had he was glad. He felt all the satisfaction of a dog with a number of bones buried round the garden, who suddenly unearths one unexpectedly and discovers it’s matured much better than he had hoped.
    He’d liked to have taken her straight up on to the moors and screwed her now, but he didn’t particularly want to cover his new suit with grass stains before the interview. Anyway, there’d be plenty of time tonight, and it’d be more of a turn on pulling her under the old vicar’s nose.
    It was quite an achievement washing oneself from top to toe with gritty soap and a face towel in the ladies at the library but Imogen managed it. She also nipped across the road and bought a new pair of black pants which cut into her. And now she was sitting in the Dog and Duck enveloped in a cloud of Gloria’s Babe being eyed by Pikely locals, drinking champagne with Nicky and wondering if she’d ever been happier in her life.
    ‘This is the first champagne I’ve had this year,’ she said.
    ‘Then you must wish,’ said Nicky.
    Imogen shut her eyes, and took a gulp. ‘Oh please,’ she wished silently, ‘give me Nicky.’
    Nicky laughed and kissed her cheek. ‘You’ll get me if you play your cards right,’ he said.
    ‘How did you know what I was wishing?’
    ‘You’re totally transparent. That’s what I like about you.’
    ‘Did you think Gloria was pretty,’ said Imogen wistfully.
    ‘Who’s she?’
    ‘The sexy one in yellow shorts who offered you a cup of tea.’
    ‘Didn’t notice her, but then I only have eyes for you.’ He filled up her glass. As they worked their way down the bottle he told her about Rome and Paris, but she was so longing and longing to have his arms round her again, and yet panicking where it would all lead to, she could hardly concentrate.
    ‘And what have you been up to?’ he said, ordering another bottle.
    ‘Nothing really.’
    She told him about Juliet having to write out the 23rd Psalm ten times for saying bugger. But she didn’t really think he’d be very interested in hearing about the second-hand book stall she had to organise for the church fête in aid of a new spire, and even spires seemed so phallic at the moment.
    ‘How is your dear father? Still on the one day week?’ said Nicky.
    Imogen giggled and knew she shouldn’t.
    ‘Oh come on, darling, you know he’s a pig.’
    ‘Only to me,’ said Imogen.
    Nicky emptied the remains of the first bottle into her glass.
    ‘Who’s at home this evening?’ he said carefully.
    ‘No one,’ said Imogen without thinking. ‘Juliet’s staying the night with a friend, and Mummy and Daddy are taking the boys back and stopping for dinner with the vicar of Long Preston.’
    Nicky picked up the unopened bottle of champagne.
    ‘Let’s go then.’
    Outside it was pouring with rain, street lamp reflections quivering in the cobbled streets. People huddled in the dorway of the fish shop. The smell of frying fat wafted towards them.
    ‘Are you hungry?’ asked Nicky.
    ‘No,’ said Imogen.
    The powerful headlamps of his car lit up the cow parsley flattened by the deluge. The rain rattled against the windscreen. In the light from the dashboard she could see Nicky’s profile.
    ‘I went for that drop