A Crowded Marriage Read Online Free

too.”

Chapter Two
    â€œOh God, I’m so sorry!” Kate wailed, hurrying through from the kitchen to put a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of me.
    â€œWhy should you be sorry?”
    â€œBecause it’s all my fault! I thought he was going to sign you up for the Cork Street equivalent of the Summer Exhibition, not try to molest you, then weep all over you.”
    â€œI suppose I should be flattered,” I mused, sitting up a bit in the squashy pink sofa in her conservatory and sipping my tea in a dazed fashion. “I can’t remember the last time a man other than my husband even tried to hold my hand, let alone have sex with me. Unless you count the deputy head at the school carol concert last year.”
    â€œThe deputy head tried to have sex with you?”
    â€œNo, tried to hold my hand. I was miles away and hadn’t realised we’d been urged to greet our neighbours with the sign of peace. Nearly slapped him.”
    Kate snorted. “Very Christian. But I’m surprised at young Casper,” she said thoughtfully, sinking into the sofa beside me. “He’s always had an eye for the girls, but I wouldn’t have thought he’d try it on with you as blatantly as that. I shall ring him later. Have words with him.”
    â€œNo, don’t,” I said quickly. “It was a complete misunderstanding and, actually, probably my fault too. And anyway, he’s miserable and lonely.”
    â€œI suppose,” she said doubtfully, sipping her tea.
    â€œAlthough hopefully after two brandies and a thorough character assassination of Jesus of Barcelona, he’s feeling a bit better now.”
    â€œJesus of who?”
    â€œBarcelona. The personal trainer. The Latin Lothario who’s taking his wife to the Promised Land on a regular basis.”
    â€œOh God,” she groaned. “You really got the works.”
    I laughed hollowly. “Oh, I’ve sat through more photos of Barnaby and Archie, aged eighteen months and three years respectively, than I have of my own child.”
    Kate made a face. “Sad.”
    â€œVery.”
    We were quiet a moment. Kate narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at the Welsh dresser opposite. “Does Alex carry around pictures like that in his wallet?”
    â€œWhat, of me and Rufus? No, does Sebastian?”
    â€œNo!”
    We regarded each other in silent outrage.
    â€œActually,” I conceded, “I think I’ve always found it a bit cheesy. Those men with pictures of the wife and kids on the desk—what’s that all about? In case they forget what they look like by the time they get to work? Or to announce to the office they’ve got a happy marriage?”
    â€œThe latter probably, and you’re right, it’s an insecurity. I mean, look what happened to Casper. He had the pictures and his wife went out shagging.”
    â€œYes, and then he tried to redress the balance, although I must say, I think his current strategy of picking up middle-aged women in hotel restaurants is deeply flawed. I’m not convinced that’s going to make her drop her square-jawed hunk and come running back.”
    â€œI agree. I mean,” she added quickly, “about him picking up women, not the middle-aged bit.”
    â€œThanks,” I said gratefully.
    She cradled her mug and shifted round in her seat to eye me wickedly over it. “And you weren’t in the least bit tempted? Casper’s rather attractive in a loose-limbed, puppyish sort of way.”
    â€œNot remotely. Too wet behind the ears for my tastes and, as you know, I go for the older man. I don’t want a puppy.”
    â€œWhich is not just for Christmas.”
    â€œWell, quite. I’d have to throw sticks and get house-training. Anyway,” I added, “I hadn’t shaved my legs.”
    â€œAh. Now we get to the nub of it.”
    We giggled.
    â€œQuite nice to say no, though,” I reflected,