Tom said sharply, ‘You have your children for life anyway.’
Elizabeth looked at him. Against the light, it was difficult to see his expression, but his stance looked determined, even defiant, as if he was challenging her to know better than he did about an area of life she had never experienced, and he had. She opened her mouth to ask if Tom’s pronouncement on children held good for third wives, too, and then felt, almost simultaneously, that pride would prevent her ever asking such a thing. So, instead, she closed her mouth again and walked, with as much dignity as she could muster, into the bathroom next door, closing the door behind her.
‘It’s really nice of you to see me,’ Amy said.
‘Not at all, it’s a pleasure—’
‘I haven’t been to London for ages, not for months, but then I got this interview and I thought that, while I was at it, if you didn’t mind—’
‘I don’t,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m pleased to see you.’
Amy looked round the sitting-room.
‘It’s a lovely flat. It’s huge.’
‘I thought I’d have parties here. But I haven’t—’
‘You could have your wedding reception here. Couldn’t you? It’d be a lovely room for that.’
Elizabeth went past Amy and into the little kitchen that led off the sitting-room. She called from inside it, ‘White wine?’
‘I don’t drink much,’ Amy said.
‘Tea then, coffee—’
‘Tea, please,’ Amy said. ‘A bag in a mug. Lucas thinks it’s dead common but it’s how I like it.’ She came and peered through the kitchen doorway. ‘I’ve never seen you in a suit before.’
‘It’s my working mode.’
‘It suits you,’ Amy said. ‘You look really in command.’
Elizabeth plugged the kettle in.
‘That’s exactly how I want to look. It hides a multitude of sins. What job were you interviewing for?’
‘A film,’ Amy said. ‘Some medieval thing. We have to plaster them in mud and keep them looking sexy at the same time. I don’t know if I’ll get it, but it’s worth a try.’
‘Aren’t you under contract to the TV station?’
‘Only for three months,’ Amy said. ‘Three months at a time. You can’t plan anything but that’s how they all work now.’
Elizabeth took a half-bottle of white wine out of the fridge and peeled off the foil around the neck. She saw Amy looking at it.
‘I always buy half-bottles, I always have. My father teases me, he calls them Spinster’s Comforters. He ought to be glad they’re not gin.’
‘Don’t you like gin?’
‘Not much.’
‘It makes me gag,’ Amy said. ‘Lucas drinks vodka. He’s trying not to drink at all at the moment.’ She paused and then she said with a tiny edge of venom, ‘It wouldn’t hurt his sister to try not to either.’
Elizabeth put a teabag in a mug and filled it with boiling water.
‘How strong?’
‘Very,’ Amy said. She moved into the kitchen and picked up a teaspoon to squash the teabag against the side of the mug. ‘Real builders’ tea.’
‘My father has it like that.’
‘Rufus liked your father,’ Amy said.
Elizabeth poured her wine.
‘It was mutual.’
She opened the fridge and offered Amy a carton of milk. ‘Sugar?’
Amy shook her head. She poured milk into her mug and stirred vigorously. ‘Look at that. Perfect.’ She lifted out the teabag. ‘Where’s your wastebin?’
‘There—’
‘It’s so tidy in here. You must be such a tidy cook.’
‘I don’t cook much.’
‘Lucas cooks for us, mostly. He’s a better cook than I am, more sophisticated. Trouble is, he’s almost never home at the moment so I live on sandwiches at work and crisps at home.’
Elizabeth moved past her, into the sitting-room, holding her glass of wine.
‘Bring your tea and come and sit down.’
Amy perched on the edge of a sofa, holding her mug balanced on her knees. She was wearing a very short checked skirt and a black jacket and had subdued her hair under a band. She said, ‘I don’t really know why I’ve come. Well, I do, but now I’m here I don’t know how to start—’
Elizabeth took a sip of wine.
‘Is it about Dale?’
‘How did you know?’
‘I just guessed—’
Amy leaned forward.
‘Do you like her? Do you like Dale?’
Elizabeth said, ‘I wouldn’t have the first idea how to answer that question.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That she’s so overwhelming, so complicated, so big a personality, that liking or disliking her doesn’t really seem to come into it.’
Amy stared into her tea.
‘I know what I think.’
Elizabeth waited. She looked at Amy’s neat little legs in their smooth black tights, and her competent small hands folded round her tea mug.
‘We used to have such a good time, Lucas and me,’ Amy said. ‘Such fun. We were always laughing. I could tease him, I could tease him all day and he’d come back for more, he’d always come back. And it was OK when she had that boyfriend. He was a bit stuck up but he was clever, he could manage her. But since he went, it’s been awful. She won’t leave Lucas alone and he’s sorry for her; he says she’s his sister and she really battles with herself and that I ought to sympathize with her instead of bitching. But how can I sympathize, how can I when she’s hogging all Lucas’s attention? I’ve tried not saying anything but it didn’t get me anywhere because Lucas didn’t notice and I nearly killed myself with the effort.’ She stopped abruptly, took a mouthful of tea and then said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it all to come out like that.’
‘It always does,’ Elizabeth said. She picked her wineglass up and put it down again. ‘Why have you come to me?’
‘Because you know,’ Amy said. ‘You’re coping.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve seen Dale in action. You’ve had her around, you’ve seen the score. But you can manage, you can deal with it.’
‘Oh—’
‘Lucas told me that if you could manage I could. He said you’re just getting on with your life, Dale or no Dale, and why can’t I. He said I’m letting it get to me, and I needn’t let it, look at you, you’re not.’
‘Amy,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I wish it was that straightforward.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ Elizabeth said, carefully, ‘that it’s complicated all round just at the moment. That feelings seem to be running very high.’
Amy leaned forward over her tea.
‘Have you had a row with Dale?’
Elizabeth smoothed her skirt down towards her knees.
‘She has a key to Tom’s house. She lets herself in.’
‘Did you go for her?’
‘I asked her not to do it any more.’
Amy let out a breath.
‘Wow.’
‘I don’t want to seem stuffy about this, but I don’t feel I can talk about it much. Tom thinks—’ She stopped.
‘What?’
‘He thinks as I imagine Lucas thinks. He thinks Dale is still upset by her love affair ending and that this has unluckily coincided with my coming on the scene, which has brought back a rush of memories of losing her mother and we’ve all got to be very patient and wait until enough time has passed for Dale to feel calm again.’
‘Oh,’ Amy said. She stood up, pulling her skirt down with one hand. ‘Will you go along with that?’
Elizabeth hesitated. She remembered sitting at Tom’s kitchen table the evening after he had found her despairing in the bedroom, eating an admirable risotto he had made, and putting all the energy she had left into trying to understand, and believe, the explaining, reconciliatory things he was saying. She had so wanted to believe him; she had told herself that she owed it to him to believe him because he was so much in earnest himself and she had ended the evening by instructing herself severely in the bathroom mirror that the very least she could do – for Tom, for herself, for both of them – was to try. She looked at Amy now.