Body Politic Read Online Free Page B

sandwiches and a pot of tea for lunch. She came and sat carefully opposite him rather than beside him, holding her hands out briefly for a moment towards the fire, though the room was already warm from the central heating.
    The lounge had two windows, but they were quite small, designed in the days when the primary concern in these thick-walled dwellings was to keep in all the available heat. In the soft half-light, with the reflection of the fire flickering against her pale face, Zoe’s strong features had a Scandinavian beauty.
    He could imagine her wrapped in thick woollens in a ski-hut, her long legs curled beneath her after an exhilarating day on the piste. Or even off it, on runs they had found for themselves: they were both strong, experienced skiers, and that would allow them a more private place to spend the long, contented nights. Raymond stretched his legs towards the fire, revelling in the thought.
    Later, when her mood softened, he would take her to bed.
    When she did not speak to him, he picked up the Sunday paper; turning automatically to the business section and its thoughts upon the Chancellor’s latest strategy. Zoe looked for a moment at his square face, studying the nose which had been broken and reset a fraction off centre. She thought for a while about how little you could sometimes deduce of what went on behind features which were so familiar to you. Then she said, ‘I think we should go to see Moira together.’
    It was such a complete surprise to Raymond Keane that he almost showed his bewilderment. Then his politician’s practised skills took over. He paused for a moment, digesting the idea whilst he appeared to be weighing it. Zoe must have been more upset than he thought she had been when Hampson had mentioned Moira Yates this morning. Damn Chris! Couldn’t he have had a little more sense than to bring an ex-mistress into their argument?
    Raymond said as calmly as he could, ‘Do you think that’s really such a good idea, old girl? I’m—’
    ‘ I’m not your “old girl”!’ She was outraged by the expression, as she had never been before. But had he ever used it to her before? It seemed to ring in her ears with the note of an earlier era. Perhaps he had used it with other women, and that was why she was suddenly so furious with him. ‘And yes, I do think it would be a good idea. Unless you still think that there are things about your relationship with her that need to be hidden from me, of course.’ It was cheap, but it was out before she could stop herself. She was horrified by the sudden desire to hurt him she felt within herself.
    ‘ Don’t be silly, darling. I’ve been perfectly open with you about her, and about all of my past life, if it comes to that.’ That was true, he thought. He certainly loved Zoe now, and wanted to marry her. He had been more honest with her than with anyone else in his life; he was sure of that.
    ‘ And Moira knows it’s all over between the two of you? And she knows about me?’
    ‘ Yes, yes. I told her about four months ago. Told her I was going to marry you. Even before I told you, as a matter of fact.’ For a moment, as her bright blue eyes flashed suddenly up into his face, he wondered if this had been too blunt, though he had only been trying to reassure her. And it was true enough: he had been glad to offer his marriage plans to the intense Moira as a signal that their affair was now conclusively finished, that there was absolutely no possibility of its renewal.
    ‘ I still think I should come with you to see her.’ Zoe stared into the fire, her face set like a small girl’s, deaf to the arguments of those around her.
    ‘ It’s just—well, just that I’m thinking of her, you see. She’s not a well woman, by all accounts.’
    ‘ Agoraphobia. Nothing physically wrong, you said.’ Zoe quoted him exactly, as if implying that she would reserve her own diagnosis until she saw the patient. She was a ward sister in a private hospital,