A Desirable Residence - By Madeleine Wickham Page 0,53

would see them and . . .

‘Hi, Alice!’ Antonia’s voice rang across the aisle. Alice waited for a second, then casually looked up at Antonia’s eager face. Antonia’s gaze shifted to Piers, and then back to Alice. Her eyes were bright. Alice gave her a blank look, almost as though she didn’t recognize her. Then a bit of a smile.

‘Hi, Antonia,’ she said shortly. Antonia looked at Piers again and blushed.

‘Oh, hello, Alice.’ It was Antonia’s mother, coming over from the frozen fish counter, looking disapprovingly at Piers. ‘Doing some shopping for Mummy?’

‘No, actually, we’re buying some stuff for mulled wine.’ Piers’s voice resounded through the shop, confident and arresting. ‘Is it cinnamon we want? And cloves?’

‘Well, it depends.’ Antonia’s mother looked at Alice again. ‘The way I usually do it is to stick some cloves into oranges. And add brown sugar and water.’

‘That’s right,’ exclaimed Piers. ‘I remember now. And lots of brandy.’

‘Well,’ said Antonia’s mother. ‘It depends how strong you want it. It depends who’s going to be drinking it.’ She looked meaningfully at Alice. Antonia shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

‘Oh, I think we want it as strong as possible,’ said Piers cheerfully. ‘Don’t you, Alice?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Alice joyfully. She grinned at him and forced herself not even to look at Antonia. ‘Had we better go?’ she added bravely.

‘Yes, we’d better crack on.’ Piers smiled charmingly at Antonia and her mother. ‘So nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘And thank you for the cookery tips.’ His voice held just the faintest tinge of mockery, and as they walked away, Alice could hear Antonia wailing at her mother, ‘Mummy, why did you have to say that?’

‘Friend of yours?’ Piers asked, as they rounded the corner.

‘Enemy,’ said Alice succinctly.

‘Thought so,’ said Piers. They grinned at each other; collaborators’ grins, and Alice felt a sudden pull of yearning in her stomach. She looked at Piers, and felt herself growing hot. Somewhere, dim and distant in the back of her mind, resided permanently the silhouetted image of a couple kissing each other passionately. The girl was Alice; the man had always been faceless. But now, in spite of herself, she could see the face of the man. And it was Piers.

When they got back, Ginny and Duncan were sitting on the floor, playing Scrabble. Ginny’s head shot up as they entered.

‘How was it?’

‘What, the supermarket?’

‘The meeting! Summer Street!’

‘Christ, yes. I’d almost forgotten about it.’ Piers grinned and began to shrug off his Barbour.

Ginny sat perfectly still and waited. She mustn’t say anything; mustn’t start hectoring him. But a throbbing feeling, somewhere between excitement and dread, was nearly driving her mad. It couldn’t be bad news, surely. Not with Piers looking so cheerful. Now he was going out to hang his Barbour on the banisters, and she nearly squeaked with annoyance. Why couldn’t he chuck it onto a chair like he usually did?

‘It went really well.’

‘What?’ Her head jerked up.

‘I think he likes me. He said, get this, “We know you can act.” ’

‘He said that to you?’ Ginny’s eyes lit up. ‘Alan Tinker?’

‘It was practically the first thing he said.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I can’t remember. I think I just sort of nodded.’

Ginny drew her knees up, and hugged them tight, trying to quell her pounding exhilaration. We know you can act. Her mind lingered lovingly on the phrase for a few moments, then firmly put it away in the back of her mind, to be brought out and savoured in the future.

‘And then what happened?’

‘Then he said he’d fix up an audition after Christmas, and that the most important thing is being able to get on with the rest of the cast.’

‘What?’ Duncan looked up. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, you know. The usual bollocks. Team work and stuff. I guess they don’t want some prima donna.’

‘Oh well, you won’t get the job then,’ said Duncan. ‘Everyone knows what a bitch you are to work with.’ Ginny gazed at Piers with anxious eyes.

‘How do they decide that bit?’

‘I spend an afternoon working with the cast. Something like that.’

‘And what are they like? Will you get on with them all right?’ Too late, Ginny realized how worried she sounded.

‘I would hope so,’ said Piers, with a hint of tension in his voice. ‘Unless I’m being my usual charmless self.’

‘Of course! I didn’t mean—’

‘Of course he will,’ said Duncan easily. ‘Piece of piss. Now come on, you two, join in our game of Scrabble.’ He waved his rack of