It had to happen sooner or later. Though Pappy knew I had a boyfriend, his identity remained a mystery until early this morning. She came in the front door around six, just as Duncan was leaving. Of course he didn’t recognise her, just smiled and stood aside courteously, but she knew exactly who he was, and came straight to my flat.
“I don’t believe it!” she cried.
“Neither do I.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Two weekends in a row.”
“I didn’t realise you knew him.”
“I hardly do know him.”
A funny conversation for two good friends to have, I thought as I made us some breakfast.
“Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz told me that the King of Pentacles had arrived, and Toby told me that you had acquired a lover, but I never dreamed of Mr. Forsythe,” she said.
“I didn’t dream of him either. Still, it’s nice to know that The House’s grapevine isn’t as efficient as I thought it was. Toby told me I was a fool, since when I haven’t seen so much as his back going up the stairs, and Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz approves after barging in to meet him,” I said, giving Marceline her top-of-the-milk.
“Are you quite well?” Pappy asked, eyeing me doubtfully. “You sound awfully detached.”
I sat down, hunched my shoulders and looked at my boiled egg without a shred of appetite. “I’m well, but am I good? That’s the real question. I don’t know why I did it, Pappy! I know why he did it—he’s lonely and afraid, and he’s married to a cold fish.”
“He sounds like Ezra,” she said, gobbling up her egg.
I didn’t like that comparison, but I understood why she made it, so I let it pass. Half-past six on a dark winter’s morning is no time to quarrel, especially after each of us had spent two days of illicit love with a very much married man.
“He hasn’t done this sort of thing before, so why he picked me is a mystery. He’s in love with me—or he thinks he is—and when he turned up here out of the blue, I didn’t have the heart to turn him down,” I said.
“You mean you’re not in love with him?” she asked, as if that was a worse sin than Sodom and Gomorrah had ever dreamed of.
“How can you love someone you hardly know?” I countered, but that was the wrong thing to say to Pappy, who definitely didn’t know Ezra at all.
“All it takes is a glance,” she said rather stiffly.
“Does it? Or is that what my brothers call elephant love? I’ve really only got my mother and father to gauge, and they’re very much in love. But Mum says they built it, that it took years, and it keeps getting better.” I looked at her, feeling helpless. “I can look after myself, Pappy, it’s him I’m worried about. Did I start something he’s going to have to do all the paying for?”
Her exquisite face went suddenly hard. “Don’t feel too sorry for him, Harriet. Men have all the advantages.”
“You mean that Ezra is still dickering with his wife.”
“Eternally.” She shrugged, looked at my egg. “Do you want that? Eggs are the perfect protein.”
I shoved it across the table. “It’s all yours, you need it more than I do. You sound a bit disillusioned.”
“No, I’m not disillusioned,” she sighed, dipping a finger of toast in the runny yolk as if it interested her far more than the subject of our conversation did. “I suppose I just assumed that Ezra would be able to start committing himself to me utterly. I love him so much! I’ll be thirty-four in October—oh, it would be so nice to be married!”
I hadn’t realised she was quite that old, but middle thirties accounted for it, all right. Pappy is suffering from the Old Maid Syndrome. Going from many men to the only man hasn’t rewarded her with the safety and security she craves. Oh, please, please, God, don’t let the Old Maid Syndrome happen to me!