‘I’m sorry, Jimmy. I spoke out of turn; it was insensitive of me. It’s none of my business anyway. You just paint such a vivid picture—the farmhouse, the seaside—it’s all so wonderful. I was caught up vicariously in your plans.’
Jimmy didn’t answer; he’d been looking at her as she said it but now he turned away. Something about her face as he watched her had inspired a clear and focused image in his mind of the two of them, him and her, running off to the seaside together, that made him want to stop her, right now in the street, cup her face in his hands and kiss her long and hard. Christ. What was the matter with him?
Jimmy lit a cigarette and smoked as he walked. ‘What about you?’ he muttered, ashamed, and trying to make amends. ‘What’s in your future? What do you dream of?’
‘Oh—’. She waved a hand. ‘I don’t spend too much time thinking about the future.’
They reached the underground station and enacted an awkward goodbye. Jimmy felt uncomfortable, not to mention guilty, especially because he was going to have to hurry to meet Dolly at Lyons as they’d planned. All the same—
‘Let me go with you to Kensington,’ he called after Vivien. ‘Make sure you get home safely.’
She glanced back at him. ‘You’re going to catch the bomb with my number on it?’
‘I’ll give it a good try.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘No, thanks. I prefer to go alone.’ And with that a flash of the old Vivien was back, the one who’d walked ahead of him in the street and refused even to smile.
Dolly sat smoking as she watched for Jimmy from the window of the restaurant. Every so often she turned away from the glass, brushing at the white fur of her coat sleeve. It was too warm, really, to be wearing fur, but Dolly didn’t like to take it off. It made her feel important—powerful even—and she needed that now more than ever. Lately she’d had the terrible feeling that the strings were slipping through her fingers and she was beginning to lose control. The fear made her sick to the stomach—worst of all was the creeping uncertainty that came upon her in the night.
The plan, when she’d conceived it, had seemed perfect—a simple way of teaching Vivien Jenkins a lesson, while making things right for Jimmy and herself—but as time went on and Jimmy got no closer to setting up a meeting to take the photo-graph, as Dolly noticed the distance growing between them, the trouble he had meeting her eyes, she was beginning to realise she’d made a huge mistake; that she should never have asked Jimmy to do it. At her lowest moments, Dolly had even started to wonder that he might not love her in quite the same way, that he might not think she was exceptional any more. And that thought made her truly frightened.
They’d quarrelled terribly the other night. It had started over nothing, some comment she’d made about Caitlin Rufus, the way she’d behaved when they went out dancing together recently with Kitty and the others. It was the sort of thing she’d said a hundred times before, but somehow this time it turned into a full-blown argument. She’d been shocked at the sharp way he’d spoken to her, the things he’d said; he’d told her she ought to choose better friends if her old ones were such a dis-appointment; that she might even think about coming to visit him and his father next time instead of going out with people she clearly didn’t like; and it had seemed so uncalled for, so unkind, she’d started crying in the street. Usually when Dolly cried, Jimmy realised how hurt she was and moved to make things better, but not this time. He’d only shouted, ‘Christ!’, and walked away, fists balled by his side.
Dolly had swallowed her sobs then, listening and waiting in the dark, and for a minute she’d heard nothing. She’d thought she was truly alone, that somehow she’d pushed him too far and he really had left her this time.
He hadn’t, he’d come back, but instead of saying sorry as she expected, he’d said in a voice she almost didn’t recognise, ‘You should have married me, Doll. You should have bloody well married me when I asked.’
Dolly had felt a whimper rise painfully in her throat when he said it, and she’d heard herself cry, ‘No, Jimmy—you should have asked me sooner!’
They’d made up afterwards on