Part 12 (1/2)

'The personal stuff as well?'

'I suppose so.' Tess looked almost tearful. 'The more I think about it, the more I wonder if this Ben-and-me thing was a terrible mistake. I think I'll tell him I'm not going to New York.'

'Oh, don't be silly, Tess,' I scolded briskly, no doubt sounding like my mother telling off a juvenile delinquent who was up before the bench for stealing f.a.gs from newsagents. 'New York City Bloomingdale's and Barneys, think of it Ben's Amex Gold and Saks Fifth Avenue, a marriage made in heaven!'

'You might have a point.'

When I mentioned Barneys and Saks Fifth Avenue, Tess brightened up a little. But she was not as excited as I thought she ought to be. 'Tess, what's the matter? Ben's previous wives, they left because their marriages went wrong. Or he left them whatever. You and he, you like each other, love each other, don't you?'

'Yeah, I know, and yeah, I sort of love him. But I wonder oh, it's probably nothing. You think you'll be all right here by yourself?'

'Of course I shall. I'll go to the Inst.i.tute of Arts, to some museums. I'll go and see the Capitol.'

'Oh.' Tess shrugged. 'The Capitol yeah, right, that will be thrilling. Listen, Rosie, you don't need to do stuff on your own. Why don't you ring Patrick?'

How could she have said his name like that, with no warning, with no lead-up, without giving me a chance to sort my face out, organise my casual response so it would sound as if I wasn't bothered one way or the other?

'W-why would I ring Pat?' I managed to croak at last.

'He's really missing Lexie. So I expect he would be glad to take you out to dinner. Or at least meet up with you for coffee. I'm sure he would enjoy your company.'

'You mean I'd be a sort of babysitter while his best mate Ben is out of town?'

'Well, that's one way of putting it,' said Tess. She looked at me. So had she guessed? No, how could she guess, when inscrutability's my superpower? 'Ben's so worried about him,' she continued. 'He's never been a talker, but nowadays it's like he's an elective mute or something. When they meet up for a beer, he hardly says a word.'

He probably doesn't get a chance, I thought, what with Ben and his relentless bragging about foreign rights and big, fat royalties, me, me, me, me, me.

'You're so good with people, Rosie. Everybody likes you, tells you stuff. Ben is doing his best to help Pat deal with all the Lexie fallout. But, like I just told you, he's not getting very far. Maybe you could get him to open up a bit?'

'I'll try.'

'Good girl and you know what, talking might help you as well, perhaps? The Charlie stuff, I mean. You ought to talk.'

'I'm not discussing it with Pat!'

'But you could talk to me.'

'I'll think about it.'

'Yeah, why don't you? Listen, we'll be back in time to take you to the airport, see you off.'

'Okay, Tess that's fine.'

'Okay it's fine that you'll be on your own and okay you'll call Pat?'

'Tess, why don't you go to New York City, burn some plastic, stop fretting about Mrs Fairfax One and Mrs Fairfax Two and Ben and Pat and me?'

'Yeah, all right,' she said. 'But I still think-'

'Let's go and get a coffee. We could have some chocolate m.u.f.fins, too. Get fat and spotty, shall we? Or get a sugar rush, at any rate?'

What choice did I have?

This was a gift from some kind fairy, and it's rude and mean to turn down gifts. The minute Tess and Ben went off to catch their plane to John F Kennedy, I rang Patrick Riley.

He didn't seem surprised to hear from me, so maybe he'd been warned I'd be in touch? But was he pleased? I couldn't tell. At least he didn't cut me off. He didn't say he had to go and see a student, give a lecture, eat a bagel, snap some gum.

He asked what I'd been doing with myself since he had seen me last. He seemed to listen while I told him I'd been to the MoA with Tess about a dozen times and I was all shopped out, something I had never thought would happen to somebody like me.

'You might be an enthusiast but you're not yet an addict?' he suggested.

'You could well be right.' But Tess was definitely addicted, I continued. She could never, ever get enough of going to the MoA. She started hyperventilating when we drove into the parking lot. She developed cyborg laser vision and her Amex card began to glow.

'She strides around the place as if she's on a mission to save Planet Retail,' I told Pat. 'She's the Arnold Schwarzenegger of the MoA, the super-customer who's armed and dangerous with an a.r.s.enal of super-cards. She should get a Purple Heart for courage in the face of overwhelming shopping opportunities. Or free pizza on demand, at least.'

He laughed at that. It was a real laugh. It wasn't forced. I'd stake my life on it. It was the laugh I'd heard when Tess was telling us about restructuring Ben, and it made me feel all warm inside.

'How's that foot of yours?' he asked me.

'It's much better, thank you.'

'You're walking normally again?'

'I am indeed well, almost normally.'

'You get around okay?'

'I do.'

'So you could take a ride downtown, perhaps?'

'Yes, that might be possible.'

'Maybe you could call a cab? Come meet me for a coffee sometime?'

'Maybe,' I conceded. 'When would be good for you?'

'I'd have to check my schedule. But I figure there must be a window someplace.'

Goodness, were we flirting?

Ten or fifteen minutes later, we arranged to meet when he had finished work the following day and spent time with his children, who he said he saw most early evenings for an hour or two.

So I would be rendezvousing with Professor Riley in a downtown coffee shop at seven on Wednesday evening. Just how many hours away was that? How many minutes? I started calculating hours, minutes, seconds. There were far too many seconds. If I counted seconds, it was much too long to wait.

PATRICK.

What did we talk about?

I don't exactly know. I listened to her voice, is all, and thought how it would be just perfect for my GPS.