do it. And . . .’ Marcus gazed at her with an impatience tempered by curiosity.
‘What’s wrong? Is it this room?’ Liz shrugged hopelessly.
‘Maybe. I think it’s more the thought of you seeing what I’m really like. Under all this.’ She tweaked her jersey disparagingly. ‘I bet you’re used to women with perfect bodies. Not all droopy like mine.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Marcus. His mind flicked abstractly to Anthea’s slim figure; her small, well-shaped breasts, her smooth, pale skin and elfin shoulders. Making love to her was making love to a thing of beauty; an aesthetic experience as much as a sexual one.
‘I wasn’t exactly expecting to be seduced this afternoon,’ Liz was saying. ‘I expect I’ve got my grottiest bra on.’
Marcus stared at her, mesmerized. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to undress her, there, down to her old bra, and no doubt unglamorous knickers. He wanted to cup the pendulous, ripe curves of her breasts, and run his hands over the folds of her stomach, and bury himself inside her.
‘I don’t give a fuck what you’re wearing,’ he said, in a voice husky with desire. ‘I’ve just got to have you.’ Liz stared back at him, her eyes wide, her breath coming quickly, a delicious anticipation rising inside her.
‘Hello! Is anyone there?’ A cheerful female voice calling from outside broke the silence, followed by the sound of the doorbell. Marcus and Liz stared at each other for an agonized second. Then Marcus spoke, in a hissed, angry whisper.
‘Fuck it! It’s Ginny.’ He struggled to his feet, and smoothed back his hair. Liz felt like crying. Marcus strode to the window and leant out.
‘Hello there! We’ve been waiting inside.’
‘Marcus, I’m so sorry! Is Mrs Chambers still there? Have you been waiting long. I can’t believe how late I am!’
‘No problem,’ replied Marcus slowly, as he retreated inside.
He looked at Liz, pushing his hand back through his hair in shaky disbelief. ‘We’d better go and let her in,’ he said.
‘Oh God,’ said Liz. She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. ‘Am I looking very red?’
‘No,’ began Marcus. ‘Well actually, yes. You are a bit.’ He grinned wickedly at her, and Liz’s legs started to feel shaky again.
‘I can’t get in! The door’s closed!’ It was Ginny’s voice, wafting up to them from outside.
‘I’ll go,’ said Marcus quickly to Liz. ‘You come down when you’re ready.’
‘No!’ said Liz. ‘That’ll look really obvious.’ She smoothed down her skirt. ‘We’d better go down together.’
As Marcus opened the front door, Ginny burst through like a puppy ready for a walk. She kissed Marcus on both cheeks, and smiled in a charming, shamefaced manner at Liz.
‘Mrs Chambers, I’m so sorry! Oh my goodness, you must be freezing, waiting here so long!’
‘Oh no,’ said Liz gaily. She felt dishevelled beside this glossy girl. ‘We had a bottle of champagne to keep us going,’ she added, foolishly.
‘Really?’ Ginny looked from Liz to Marcus with bright eyes. ‘How nice! Is there any left?’
‘Sorry,’ said Liz. ‘It’s all gone.’ She gave a sudden giggle, and Marcus quickly took Ginny by the arm.
‘We always give our clients a bottle of champagne when a deal goes through,’ he said firmly.
‘Yes, I knew that,’ said Ginny, eyes sparkling. ‘But I didn’t realize you always drank it straightaway.’
‘We don’t normally,’ said Marcus tetchily. Ginny looked at him, and back at Liz. She gave a little grin.
‘Well, no,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you do.’
CHAPTER SIX
On the third Saturday in October, Ginny and Piers collected the keys to twelve Russell Street, and supervised the arrival of the removal van containing their things. It took an hour to unload the futon, the kilims, the huge wrought-iron candlesticks, the chests full of clothes, CDs, pictures, and books. Then, leaving everything piled up in the sitting-room, they locked the door and went off to Wales for a week, where Piers was filming a tiny part in an obscure children’s fantasy drama.
By the next Saturday, Alice still hadn’t noticed anything different. She had pared down the route from the school gate to the door of the garage to an efficient minimum, and, with her Walkman pounding loudly in her ears, she rarely looked right or left. She would have had to peer hard in at the window of the sitting-room in order to see the pile of boxes on the floor; the rolled-up rugs against the fireplace. And, despite having been told the good news by her parents, it had not actually registered with her that the house