Part 38 (1/2)

I awoke three hours later with the knowledge that this morning David would receive my letter. Perhaps, if his post had come early, he'd already read it. My pulse began to race at the thought. However, I knew that I couldn't, in any circ.u.mstances, call him: it was up to him to contact me. But by ten he hadn't phoned, and I knew that he wouldn't. I imagined my letter, in the bin, in fragments. I played the tape again. It was all there.

Why have you deliberately stirred it all up?...felt awful about it for sixteen years...you should have left it alone...do you want money, is that it?... Did you give him my name?... I didn't have the faintest idea what it really was... That's true... Why would you want to go and look for the guy?... I'll ring David right now... It was just a firework...regrettable.

It was explosive stuff, I thought-without irony. It was dynamite. It could blow his whole life apart. How silly of him, I thought. Manipulative though Jimmy was, it had never once crossed his mind that I might have been recording our conversation. I put the tape at the back of my drawer, then went round the corner to get a newspaper. And I was just deciding whether to get the Guardian or the Independent, when I noticed that the new September edition of Moi! had come in. I bought one, and, still feeling fragile after my sleepless night, I ordered a comforting latte in the Patisserie and then sat outside in the suns.h.i.+ne, reading the magazine. The 'Miss Behaviour' article was about halfway through and took up two pages. The main photograph was the one that David had printed first. I was filled with sadness as I looked at it, remembering when David had taken it-Don't smile. A smile is concealing. Then later, when I'd seen the image emerge-You look slightly troubled. As though there's something very complex going on in your head. Indeed. And now David knew what that was.

The piece was lively and well-written, and, despite India Carr's irritating probing, she'd actually said very little about my personal life-my circ.u.mspection and discretion had clearly paid off. I knew that the coverage would undoubtedly generate lots of enquiries so I decided to send Lily some flowers. I finished my latte and crossed over the road to the florist, and was just picking out some apricot roses when I saw Gnatalie coming up the road, on her mobile, as usual.

'No, Mummy,' I heard her say, as she pa.s.sed behind me. 'I don't think he understands me at all. I mean...ice-cream? Well, exactly...he knows I'm lactose intolerant... Yes... I do think he's selfish... Hmm. But on the other hand, he's attractive and funny...and of course he's nuts about me...yes... I'm seeing him tonight.'

Why? I wondered as I selected some white gerbera. Why are you seeing him tonight? Or any night? In fact, why are you seeing him at all, you whiny cow? And how disloyal! Going out with him while b.i.t.c.hing about him non-stop to her mum. That really is a case of trying to have one's gluten-free rice-cake and eat it, I thought crossly as I headed back to the house.

'Marcus is a nice guy,' I said to Herman. 'He deserves better, don't you think?' Herman heaved a sympathetic sigh.

I had an appointment in Islington at twelve, then rushed back, hoping that there might be a message from David, but there wasn't-and by three, I still hadn't heard. At half past four I saw my second client of the day-a disobedient collie cross. It wouldn't do a thing its owner said.

'He's just so naughty,' she kept saying as we walked onto Primrose Hill, the dog twisting and pulling on the lead. 'Heel, will you! He's so naughty,' she said again. 'He knows perfectly well what I want him to do, but he just won't do it.'

'Dogs are not naughty,' I said. 'To say that they are, is to impute to them human motives which they're incapable of having. Dogs have no sense of ”good” or ”bad”,' I explained. 'They don't understand ”right” or ”wrong”. They don't have a conscience, or any concept of ”guilt”-' I thought of Jimmy, '-they do only what's rewarding to them.'

I went through the basic principles with her; ignoring 'bad' or unwanted behaviours and positively reinforcing 'good' or desired behaviours. Then we went back to the house, where I looked up an accredited training cla.s.s for her to attend. As I sat at my desk I saw that there were two messages. I was dying to play them. The emotional stress made my insides s.h.i.+ft.

'Thank you,' I said, as she handed me her cheque. 'And good luck with him-I'm sure he'll be fine.'

I'd shown her out, and was just about to listen to the answerphone, when my mobile rang. It was my mother, sounding excited about her idiotic new llama project. She eventually got off the line, and I was just about to listen to my messages at long, long last, when I heard a light knock at the door. My hand stopped in mid-air. Then another one, slightly louder. It was David! I ran to the door.

'Oh!' It was like a bullet to the chest.

'h.e.l.lo, Miranda.'

'Alexander,' I murmured automatically. I felt sick, and faint. I also felt angry. He smiled an apologetic little half smile, and I suddenly felt terribly sad as well.

'I'm sorry to turn up like this,' he said diffidently. 'I did leave a message for you earlier, but I thought that you might be ignoring me, so I decided I'd just...come round.'

'Oh...well, I wasn't...ignoring you. It's just that I haven't had time to listen to my messages yet. I've been too busy.' I stared at him. I'd forgotten-no, I'd suppressed-how good-looking he was.

'Can I come in?'

'Oh. Yes,' I said weakly. 'Do...'

As Alexander crossed the threshold, Herman trotted up to him, his tail wagging. 'h.e.l.lo, Herman.' He crouched down to stroke him. 'h.e.l.lo, little guy.' He picked him up, and Herman licked his ear. 'I've missed you.'

'Erm...would you like a cup of tea?' I asked, at a loss for anything else to say. The blood was pounding in my ears and my face felt hot.

'That would be nice. Or maybe, if you've got it, a beer?'

'Sure.' Why are you here? I opened the fridge. Why? 'Budweiser?'

'Thanks. I hope you're going to have one too.'

'Okay.' Though what I really need is a valium.

'Do you mind if I smoke?' I heard him call out.

'No,' I said weakly. 'That's fine.' He was standing in the kitchen doorway now, so tall that his head almost touched the lintel. He pulled a packet of Gitanes out of his jacket pocket, removed one, then lit it with a hand which visibly trembled. The familiar aroma filled my nostrils and I was nearly felled by a wave of nostalgic distress.

'You've done an amazing job on the house,' he said, as I handed him an ashtray. 'I remember how derelict it was when we...' he hesitated. 'When we first saw it.' In the days when we were 'we'. 'So the practice is going well,' he remarked nervously as he blew the smoke away. 'I saw the piece about you in Moi! Nice photo,' he added, as I handed him the beer. If only you knew what lay behind it. 'There's one of you in The Times today too.'

'Is there?'

'With a rabbit.'

'Oh. The animal slimming compet.i.tion?'

He nodded. 'They've called it ”Heavy Petting”.'

'That's good. And I've seen lots of stuff about you.' He smiled, then looked at the floor. 'I watched the first episode of Land Ahoy!'

'Did you?' He seemed genuinely surprised. 'I thought you might not have wanted to.'

'Oh...no,' I protested. Actually, you're right, I didn't-but I made myself. 'It was very good. You looked...great. You got some terrific reviews, didn't you?'

He sat on the couch, and, still striving to project a polite detachment, I pulled up a chair about five feet away. 'Yes,' he replied, drawing deeply on the cigarette. 'I did get some nice coverage. It went very well. That was a really...' he exhaled a stream of silvery smoke, '...lucky break.' I nodded again. Then we just stared at each other, awkwardly, as we sipped our beer, like teenagers at their first party. 'So have you been okay, Miranda?' he asked softly.

'Have I been okay?' No. I haven't. I've been in turmoil. 'Erm...yes. Thanks. Yes. I've been...fine.'

'And what about your parents? And Daisy?' He delicately picked a shred of tobacco off his tongue.

'They're all right.' I told him about my dad's return to the UK. I even told him about my mother's lunatic new idea for the llamas. His blue eyes shone with laughter.

'Unbelievable!'

'No, honestly. She's quite serious about it. It's mad.' By now, the atmosphere had lightened. I'd even managed to smile. 'And you're off to Hollywood?'

'That's right.'

'So when are you going?'

'Tomorrow.' Tomorrow? I felt a sudden constriction in my throat. 'My flight's at noon. That's why I've come, actually,' he added quietly. 'You must have been wondering.'

'Well, yes. I...suppose I was.'

'It's because I didn't want to leave without seeing you again.'

'Oh.' I stared at a patch of sunlight on the floor.

'I just wanted to make sure that you were...okay.'

'Oh, I'm fine,' I murmured. 'I'm...fine.' No, I'm not. I'm miserable! And now I'm even more miserable than I was before. Why the h.e.l.l did you have to come, Alexander?

'Because I wanted to say goodbye.' Goodbye?