having a reputation for culinary prowess, especially not when paired with thrift.
But anything would have tasted ambrosial that evening. When Joe’s attention was stolen briefly by a phone call from Marcus, she was overcome by an urge to share his news with other diners, scanning the tables for familiar faces, though of course she hardly knew a soul in LimePark. That will change, she thought; in a year’s time, we’ll look around this room and know we belong.
‘So what did you do today?’ Joe asked, all hers again.
‘Oh, I wasn’t nearly as successful as you. Among other things, I inadvertently offended a neighbour.’
He smirked. ‘Who was it? Not the hairy one you told me about yesterday?’
‘No, not him. The woman from the other side. Caroline, she’s called.’ Christy explained what had happened, how her blunder had caused the woman to storm off.
‘She sounds a bit oversensitive,’ Joe said. ‘She’ll be one of those crazy leopard mothers, I bet.’
‘
Tiger
mothers.’
‘That’s it. Living through her children, no sense of the wider world. They didn’t have them in New Cross, but they roam freely among us in Lime Park.’
‘I think you’re right.’ The pang Christy felt at the ease with which he aligned himself to the child-free was minimal, hardly a pang at all. Their income was about to increase, after all; the right time for a baby might come sooner than they’d planned.
Maybe that would be their third piece of luck.
‘I’m back to work on Monday,’ she reminded him. ‘Hopefully I can make it up to Laurie for having been so useless this past month.’ The uncompromising nature of Joe’s job meant that it had been she who’d borne the lion’s share of the phone calls and emails demanded of the expedited house-purchase process.
‘I thought Ellen covered for you?’
‘She did, but all it takes is one little remark from theclient. And Laurie’s been a bit unpredictable since she came back from maternity leave.’
‘Rather be at home being a tiger, d’you think? Well, I bet you weren’t half as bad as those girls who sit at their desks planning their weddings. We’ve got one at JR. Photographers, dress fittings, flowers, that’s all you hear her talk about. I swear she’s going to get a formal warning if she doesn’t lay off.’
‘Easy to say when you’re the groom.’ Christy seemed to remember she’d organized most of
their
wedding. ‘But I’m glad to hear such liberties are being taken even at Jermyn Richards.’
Joe raised his glass in salute. ‘Even at Jermyn Richards.’
And with the last of the champagne they touched glasses once more.
Chapter 4
Amber, 2012
I’m not a fool. I know it must be a stretch to understand how I let it happen. It doesn’t stack up, it doesn’t make sense – I see that. And if I’ve given the impression that Jeremy and I didn’t love each other, then I’ve done us both a disservice, because we certainly did.
So how on earth can my behaviour be explained (I would never suggest justified)? I’ve sought no advice, naturally, but a few theories of my own have surfaced, informed by the psychology articles I’ve read in magazines. One, I wanted to test Jeremy’s love because even after five and a half years together my rise to affluence and security still struck me as too good to be true. Two, I was inherently self-destructive and an act like this was inevitable, a question not of if but when, and my accessory in betrayal could have been any neighbour, any colleague, any passing sucker. Three, it could have been no one but him because what we had was chemistry in its most primitive form, an unstoppable life force. I could have been married to the King of England and it would still have happened.
What I
do
know is that I didn’t do it lightly. It wasn’t a case of waiting for Jeremy to leave the house on Mondaymorning and slipping straight next door, shedding my clothes as I took the stairs, an animal in season. No,
But anything would have tasted ambrosial that evening. When Joe’s attention was stolen briefly by a phone call from Marcus, she was overcome by an urge to share his news with other diners, scanning the tables for familiar faces, though of course she hardly knew a soul in LimePark. That will change, she thought; in a year’s time, we’ll look around this room and know we belong.
‘So what did you do today?’ Joe asked, all hers again.
‘Oh, I wasn’t nearly as successful as you. Among other things, I inadvertently offended a neighbour.’
He smirked. ‘Who was it? Not the hairy one you told me about yesterday?’
‘No, not him. The woman from the other side. Caroline, she’s called.’ Christy explained what had happened, how her blunder had caused the woman to storm off.
‘She sounds a bit oversensitive,’ Joe said. ‘She’ll be one of those crazy leopard mothers, I bet.’
‘
Tiger
mothers.’
‘That’s it. Living through her children, no sense of the wider world. They didn’t have them in New Cross, but they roam freely among us in Lime Park.’
‘I think you’re right.’ The pang Christy felt at the ease with which he aligned himself to the child-free was minimal, hardly a pang at all. Their income was about to increase, after all; the right time for a baby might come sooner than they’d planned.
Maybe that would be their third piece of luck.
‘I’m back to work on Monday,’ she reminded him. ‘Hopefully I can make it up to Laurie for having been so useless this past month.’ The uncompromising nature of Joe’s job meant that it had been she who’d borne the lion’s share of the phone calls and emails demanded of the expedited house-purchase process.
‘I thought Ellen covered for you?’
‘She did, but all it takes is one little remark from theclient. And Laurie’s been a bit unpredictable since she came back from maternity leave.’
‘Rather be at home being a tiger, d’you think? Well, I bet you weren’t half as bad as those girls who sit at their desks planning their weddings. We’ve got one at JR. Photographers, dress fittings, flowers, that’s all you hear her talk about. I swear she’s going to get a formal warning if she doesn’t lay off.’
‘Easy to say when you’re the groom.’ Christy seemed to remember she’d organized most of
their
wedding. ‘But I’m glad to hear such liberties are being taken even at Jermyn Richards.’
Joe raised his glass in salute. ‘Even at Jermyn Richards.’
And with the last of the champagne they touched glasses once more.
Chapter 4
Amber, 2012
I’m not a fool. I know it must be a stretch to understand how I let it happen. It doesn’t stack up, it doesn’t make sense – I see that. And if I’ve given the impression that Jeremy and I didn’t love each other, then I’ve done us both a disservice, because we certainly did.
So how on earth can my behaviour be explained (I would never suggest justified)? I’ve sought no advice, naturally, but a few theories of my own have surfaced, informed by the psychology articles I’ve read in magazines. One, I wanted to test Jeremy’s love because even after five and a half years together my rise to affluence and security still struck me as too good to be true. Two, I was inherently self-destructive and an act like this was inevitable, a question not of if but when, and my accessory in betrayal could have been any neighbour, any colleague, any passing sucker. Three, it could have been no one but him because what we had was chemistry in its most primitive form, an unstoppable life force. I could have been married to the King of England and it would still have happened.
What I
do
know is that I didn’t do it lightly. It wasn’t a case of waiting for Jeremy to leave the house on Mondaymorning and slipping straight next door, shedding my clothes as I took the stairs, an animal in season. No,
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