Corduroy Mansions Page 0,131

else.”

“To the yeti? Is that wise? Such different backgrounds …”

“Very funny. To a young man called Hugh. I haven’t known him all that long, but we became engaged last night.”

Rupert had now recovered sufficiently to congratulate her properly. He stepped forward and embraced her warmly. “I’m very pleased to hear this, Barbara. It’s very good news. Tell me about him.”

She realised that had he asked that question only a couple of days ago, she would not have been able to tell him very much. Now she knew a little more but it was still not a great deal.

“He’s Scottish,” she said. “He’s lived in South America. He’s …”

Rupert waited. “What does he do?”

“I’m not too sure.”

Rupert’s expression changed. “You’re not sure? How long have you known him?”

“Not very long,” said Barbara airily. “But I’m sure. I’m absolutely sure.”

Rupert looked down at the floor. He had known Barbara for so long—all his life, in fact—that he almost regarded her as a sister. He had thought Oedipus was a terrible mistake, and he had been pleased to hear that they were no longer together, but was she now about to make another mistake, on a par with, or even exceeding, her Oedipal mistake?

He began nervously. “I’m … I’m very pleased that you’re happy, Barbara. The only thing is that this is rather … well, sudden, wouldn’t you say? You know the old expression—‘Marry in haste, resent at leisure.’”

“Actually it’s repent, Rupert, although resent makes sense too. People do resent their partners, don’t they?” She corrected herself. “Not their business partners. Their spouses.”

“Of course they do—or some do. But the point is: are you sure?”

She smiled serenely. “Never more sure.”

Rupert thought for a moment. There was the question of the flat. That was always present, somewhere in the background, and now it came to the fore.

“Where are you going to live?” he asked, affecting a nonchalance that was not really there.

“Why, in London, of course. Hugh seems happy enough here.”

Rupert pursed his lips. “I see. But what I meant was, where in London? Has Hugh got a place?”

“He’s with me at the moment.”

Rupert persisted. “But has he got his own place? His own flat?”

“I don’t think so. He’s a bit younger than me, you know. He hasn’t bought anything yet.”

Rising from her desk, Barbara walked to the window and looked out over the rooftops. The office was on the top floor of a three-storey building in Soho and there was a good view of the neighbouring roofs. Directly opposite, the occupant of an attic flat had opened a window and was putting a small tub of red flowers out onto the roof to expose it to the sun. The flowers were a tiny splash of red against the grey of the roof.

“I wonder,” Rupert said. “I would have thought that you might need a bit more room. You might move somewhere bigger.”

Barbara turned to look at him. You have this thing about my flat, she thought. You always have had. And my father bought it fair and square from your father, and that’s all there is to it.

“But my flat is perfectly large enough,” she said. “It has two bedrooms and then a study which could be used as a bedroom if one wanted. And the drawing room is really large too. It’s wonderful for parties.”

Rupert received this badly. His own drawing room was far too small for entertaining and they had never had a party in the house as a result. It would have been different if the flat in Sydney Villa—Barbara’s flat, or the flat she claimed to own—had come to him. They could have entertained on quite a scale then.

Rupert tried again. “Well, there may be a case for starting afresh somewhere,” he said. “A lot of people like to set up in a place that is really their own—somewhere they’ve chosen together. Rather romantic!”

Barbara held his gaze. “And a lot of people don’t.”

“Oh well,” said Rupert. “I hope that you’ll be very happy, Barbara. Come, let me give you a kiss.”

He kissed her on the cheek and then went back to his own office. “You’ll never guess,” he said to his wife on the telephone. “La Ragg is engaged!” And then he said, “She doesn’t want to move, by the way. She’s installed the toy boy in the flat.”

Rupert’s wife sighed. “Oh well. We must take a look at him. I wonder who on earth would have taken her on? The yeti?”

“I cracked that joke too,” said Rupert.

Seated behind