time I’d got to San Lorenzo’s my face was shiny, my clothes, I’d decided, all wrong for London, and all the thrilling excitement had disappeared down the plug hole because I was so bloody terrified I’d be spotted.’
‘In San Lorenzo’s?’ I said doubtfully.
‘Well, quite. Not exactly Odd Bob’s habitual stamping ground, I agree. I didn’t really expect half the village to be propping up the bar and to turn around accusingly when I came in. But you know what I mean.’
‘Did you tell him?’ I knew Jennie well.
‘Simon? Yes. Almost immediately. Explained I simply couldn’t handle this and wouldn’t be doing it again. He was sweet. Said he liked me all the more for it, and, actually, he wasn’t convinced he could cope with the subterfuge either. He’d run into Dan in the local garage, apparently, as they were both putting air in their tyres. Found it surprisingly hard to make small talk.’ She smiled. ‘We both agreed we could do the sex but not the deceit.’
‘Oh. So … you definitely knew what you were there for?’
‘Well, ultimately, yes. Oh, you can kid yourself it’s “just lunch”, Poppy, but it’s tantamount to sitting there in your underwear. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.’
The overture to The Marriage of Figaro was crashing in quite loudly now, presumably with Luke at the helm. Luke. Single and uncomplicated, thank God.
‘The idea of running upstairs and taking my clothes off, like Angie did, is complete anathema to me,’ she said rather primly.
‘Angie’s separated, Jennie,’ I said quickly. ‘Single.’
‘Her husband walked out on her.’
‘Yes,’ I said, surprised and wondering what she meant by that. Surely that was morally better than the other way round? For complicated reasons, I knew Jennie was so shocked by her own behaviour she was taking it out on Angie. I was pretty sure she’d normally have roared with laughter at the Pete debacle; given her friend a comforting hug.
‘You’ve done nothing wrong,’ I said gently. ‘You had lunch with a man. Big deal. You couldn’t even get as far as the starter without blurting out that it was a big mistake. Relax.’
She nodded, but I saw her swallow. She was about to say something, then blinked and swallowed again.
‘Should I tell Dan?’ she managed eventually, in a small voice.
I was instinctively about to say: no! Then hesitated.
‘Could do,’ I said thoughtfully. She nodded, knowing I knew what she was thinking. That it might bring them closer together. Dan was no fool. He’d realize there had to be a very good reason for a woman like Jennie to put on her best bib and tucker and shimmy off to London. With no threat intended – or even apparent now – it might give him pause for thought. Might give them both pause for thought. And marriages sometimes needed that. A moment when, as you rattle along helter-skelter, helping with the homework, arguing about who’s picking up from ballet, or whether it’s your turn to entertain the Jacksons, you suddenly look at each other and go – oh, OK. A half halt, Dad would call it: when a moving horse is reined in, but not entirely stopped. Just asked to take a moment. To reflect. This might be Dan and Jennie’s moment.
Figaro was gaining momentum now, really building up a head of steam; then a dramatic change of key as Lohengrin seamlessly roared in behind it, signalling the arrival of the bride. It was prettily done, and as we all got obediently to our feet, Luke glanced over his shoulder. I gave him a smile and he grinned back, deliberately giving it some exaggerated wellie, hands raised like claws. My smile broadened. Funny. The other day I’d thought a damp church not terribly conducive to romance, but today I liked him in here. Found his particular brand of laddish humour rather infectious, probably since he’d made me laugh at the King’s Head. And perhaps Angie was right: perhaps a man shone in his natural environment. He was certainly making some prodigious music, despite the intended irony, I thought, looking at his amused profile. I glanced at Simon, the very picture of radiance, beaming in the front pew, waiting for his bride.
‘And Simon’s happy because he got the girl he always wanted,’ I murmured to Jennie, straightening the back of my skirt where I’d sat on it.
‘Exactly. And he doesn’t have to fool around with married women like me while he waits for her to make up her mind – which