The Paying Guests(79)

‘I’d like to.’

‘An hour or two, one afternoon a week. We’d cover the city by about – oh, 1955.’

The words dissolved: she was yawning again. Frances spoke to the top of her head. ‘Dear me, how elderly you sound.’

‘I told you,’ said Christina, patting her mouth. ‘I’m a tired old lady.’ She added, in a different tone, almost a sly one: ‘What with turning five-and-twenty, and all…’

She twisted as she spoke, to look up into Frances’s face. Frances closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Chrissy. It’s the end of July. I forgot your birthday.’

‘You did.’

‘Which day was it?’

‘Tuesday.’

‘Tuesday. So it was. I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?’

Christina settled her head more comfortably. ‘I suppose I must. I had a nice day, anyhow. I went to Kew Gardens with another friend. I have heaps of other friends, you know.’

‘I should have liked to send a greeting.’

‘Yes, I did rather expect one.’

‘I’ve been… busy.’

‘So you said, on your charming postcard.’

‘Something’s happened, you see, at home. I —’

But Christina wasn’t really listening. Her cigarette had gone out, and she plucked Frances’s from her fingers in order to re-light it. ‘Something’s happened?’ she said as she did it. ‘On Champion Hill? What, have you found some terrific new brand of floor polish?’

‘Not floor polish —’

‘Moth balls?’

‘— Love.’

They had both spoken at once, so it took Christina a fraction of a second to absorb the word. When she did, she straightened up, and answered, in a not-quite-natural way, ‘Love! Good gracious! But, who with?’ Handing back the cigarette she added, as a joke, ‘Not Lil, the lodger?’

Frances watched another clerkish man appear beyond the railings. ‘Yes, in fact,’ she said quietly, when he had gone by.

Christina’s smile faded. ‘You don’t mean it, Frances.’

‘I do.’

‘But – wait a bit. Wait a bit. I had no idea you so much as admired her.’

‘Neither had I, until about six weeks ago. Or, maybe I had. I don’t know. It’s all been such a whirlwind.’

‘But – oh, Frances, you haven’t declared yourself? I’d advise against it, really I would.’

‘Declared myself?’ said Frances. ‘Oh, but we’re miles past that.’

‘You don’t mean the two of you have embarked on some sort of… intrigue?’

‘Yes.’

‘With her husband in the house? Does he know?’

‘Of course he doesn’t.’

‘How long has the thing been going on?’

‘Not quite a month. That sounds no time at all, I know. But it feels longer than that. Every day we slip a bit further into it. And we were in it already, I think. Even Lilian was. We were in it up to our knees, before we’d even – Well. Now it’s up to our necks.’

‘But how do you contrive it? When do you see each other?’

‘Whenever we can. We don’t take risks. We’re not stupid. But in some ways, nothing’s changed. We’d somehow got into the habit of spending time together almost in secret. It’s what we do with the time that’s changed.’

She had been speaking slightly sheepishly up until now. But the suggestion of a smirk must have crept into her features, because Christina, tutting, said, ‘Yes, well, I don’t want the details, thanks. Honestly, I don’t know what to say. I’d always supposed this Mrs Barber a perfect man’s woman.’

‘So had I. So had she.’

‘And so, I presume, had her husband. And your mother hasn’t tumbled to it? You think you can keep it from her, in that house?’

‘But you forget,’ said Frances, ‘what an old hand I am at keeping things from my mother. I don’t mean just about – about you and me. I mean things like – oh, stuffing kippers into my handbag, so as to keep up the idea that I don’t carry my own parcels. I mean going about with holes in my petticoats so that hers might be less ragged. You think I’m out to punish her, don’t you, by making a martyr of myself? You don’t know the countless little lies I tell for keeping the worst of our situation from her. But when I’m with Lilian I feel honest. I feel like a knot that’s been unpicked. Or as if all my angles have been rubbed smooth.’

Christina was gazing at her now with a look of perplexity. ‘And it’s really Love? Upper case?’

‘Oh, Chrissy, I don’t know what else to call it.’

‘But what can happen? Where can it lead? Do you expect her to abandon her husband for you?’

‘I don’t expect anything. Neither of us does. We aren’t looking ahead. The present’s too thrilling.’

That made Christina’s expression harden. ‘You aren’t looking ahead. You’re like everyone else just now, then.’

‘Oh, well, and what if I am?’ said Frances. ‘I’m keeping step with the world for a change. Will it kill me? And there’s so much antagonism everywhere, so much stress and chafe. Lilian and I – we can’t let this bit of love go by. We just can’t.’