Corduroy Mansions Page 0,127

the sofa.”

“I’ll take that risk,” said Caroline. “They’re probably playing Scrabble.”

As she went upstairs, she thought about what James had said. It was all very well for him to imagine the neighbours having a love life—but where was his? They had skirted around the issue of their relationship both verbally and physically. Nothing had happened—absolutely nothing. She, of course, found James attractive, and he had said, had he not, that he found women interesting, and yet there had not been so much as a kiss or a tender gesture—he had been as chaste as a monk.

It’s hopeless, she thought; it really is. Lovely, amusing James was lovely and amusing because he was above all that. If she wanted a love affair then she was wasting her time with him; they would be friends—they already were close in that sense—but it would never mature into anything else. Perhaps she should be satisfied with that—her half a glass of blessings rather than a full one.

Unless, of course, she made the first move. Perhaps that was the key to it. James was inexperienced and probably did not know what to do, or was too shy to do it. Well, she could show him. She could turn the lights down and put on a suitable piece of music, and perhaps one thing would lead to another. What music? she wondered. “My Heart Will Go On.” That was a good choice. People had been using it as a romantic background for years.

By the time she had climbed the stairs to William’s flat she had decided that she would act. Tonight would be the night where things were decided: whether she and James would have a proper relationship, or whether it would be made finally and unambiguously clear that they were just good friends.

She looked at the fanlight above the door. It was in darkness, and she hesitated. Perhaps James was right; perhaps it would be tactless to ring the bell now. She bent down and peered through the letterbox; the dim light coming through a window picked out the shape of the hall table but there was no light from anywhere else.

She stood up again. She would have to take the Poussin back to the flat, which was irritating, unless … She peered through the letterbox again. It was as she had remembered: the floor was carpeted.

Very gently, taking care not to scratch the frame, she posted the painting through the letterbox. There was a dull thud as it landed on the carpet. No, it’s not irresponsible, she told herself. I’ve merely returned it to its owners—or its sort-of-owners.

Back in the flat below, James asked her what had happened.

“It’s back where it belongs,” she said. “You can get William to take a photograph of it and you can show that to people at the Institute.”

James agreed that this was a good idea.

“Now,” said Caroline, “there was something I wanted to talk about.”

James was sitting on the sofa, paging through a magazine. He looked up with interest. “Paris?” he asked. “Do you want to talk about our trip to Paris? I’m so looking forward to that, Caroline. Aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s going to be great.”

“Do you know the Renoirs in the Orangerie?” asked James. “There’s a whole corridor of them. They’re really lovely.”

“I love Renoir,” said Caroline vaguely. She suddenly thought that it might be better to put her plan into action in Paris. Paris was far better than “My Heart Will Go On” for seduction purposes. Seduction … Is that what I’m doing? she asked herself.

“Where are all the others?” James suddenly asked. “Jenny. Dee. Jo. Where are all your flatmates?”

“They probably went to the pub,” said Caroline.

There was a sound at the front door. Caroline thought that somebody—one of her flatmates—was coming back, but then the sound became a knock.

“Somebody at the door,” said James.

“Evidently,” said Caroline.

She looked at her watch; it was a bit late for a casual caller. William? Did he want to find out why they had returned the Poussin? Or somebody else?

89. Resolution

“TOM!”

He stood before her, in black jeans and a striped jersey, fiddling with a car key in his right hand. He looked at her in a slightly bemused way.

“Pleased to see me? I was passing by.” He leaned forward. “Give us a kiss.”

She stepped towards him and he seized her, dropping his car key as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Your hair smells terrific,” he said.

She could not help but laugh. “What?”

“Your hair. It smells terrific.”

She