The Library of Lost and Found(52)

Martha wished she could do something to help, but no longer wanted to suggest counseling or working things out. “Ben’s an idiot,” she blurted. “For letting you go.”

Suki froze, with her hand in her bag, before she straightened her back. “Yes, he is. Thank you, Martha.”

“Zelda told me to bring a guest, but it’s not essential to my attendance.”

Suki thought for a while. She zipped up her handbag and slung it on her shoulder. “You could invite Owen instead,” she said.

Martha shook her head rapidly. Her new hairstyle felt swishy. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“He’s probably busy. He’s had several wives…”

“Is he one of those polygon people?”

“No. He didn’t have them all at once, and he doesn’t have one at the moment.”

“Good. I’ll call and ask him then, if you like?”

Martha shook her head again, even more profusely. “Oh no. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Maybe he’ll want to meet Zelda. I’d make it sound very consensual.”

Martha hoped she meant casual. She didn’t speak.

Suki raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said, with an exaggerated shrug. “It’s your choice.”

Martha was about to say no a further time when she caught sight of her reflection in the window. Would she say no to Joe, if she could relive her time again? Or would she take a chance?

She knew the answer.

She also didn’t want Gina and Zelda to think that she didn’t have any proper friends, even if she didn’t have. She owed Owen a thank-you for his research, and an apology for going to Monkey Puzzle Books without him. She looked at Suki and saw the disappointment etched on her face. After everything she’d done for her today, Martha wanted to please her.

“Well, perhaps you could ask him,” she said, instantly regretting it. “Though I’m sure he’ll be otherwise occupied.”

Suki broke into a smile. She picked up her phone and shook it in the air. “I’ll take this into the kitchen, before you change your mind,” she said. “You stay here.” Then she vanished out of the room.

Martha sat on her hands in case they started to shake. She wondered what the heck she’d just agreed to. Of course, Owen wouldn’t want to join her, but it would make Suki happy to call him.

She hummed a little tune to herself as she waited, wondering where to buy tiramisu. She’d have to find one with good quality ingredients and which looked authentically Italian. A supermarket one probably wouldn’t pass muster.

There was also the matter of her clothes. Now she had new hair and a new face, did her old clothes match?

When Suki reemerged from the kitchen, she wore a triumphant smile.

Martha found her own insides leaping around.

“Owen says he’ll join you. He’ll drive over and pick you up at five thirty,” Suki said. “So now, before Ben arrives and stresses me out, I’ve got a bit of time. Shall we see if there’s anything nice in your wardrobe for you to wear?”

“Okay.” Martha clicked her tongue. “Though it’ll probably be a fruitless search.”



* * *



Martha kept pressing a finger to her lips, the pink balm proving irresistibly touchable. She and Suki stood together in Martha’s bedroom. Out of all the rooms in the house, this was the one she kept in a minimalistic fashion. There were only her bed, a wardrobe, and a dressing table that she never used.

“Stop touching your mouth,” Suki said. “Keep the balm tube so you can reapply it. And I’ll leave some of the other makeup, too, for you to try out.” She opened the wardrobe door and began to work through Martha’s collection of long-sleeved T-shirts. Every so often she paused, tilted her head and then carried on, sliding the coat hangers along the rail.

She explained to Martha that there was such a thing as naff embroidery and lovely embroidery, but it was tricky to distinguish between the two. “A lot depends on the position and the motif. Roses are good but a boo-ket of flowers can be bad,” she said as she pulled out a gray top, then put it back again.

“I think you mean bouquet, and I don’t really understand.”

“It’s kind of an instinct thing. Anyway, you should find your own style and stick with it. If you like embroidered daisies on beige jersey, you should own that look. I always wear long dresses because I have dumpy legs.”

Martha found it difficult to imagine that Suki had any legs at all under her long layers.

“I kind of go for boho-cheek, but a classic look will work best for you,” Suki added.

Now that she was using Lilian-esque-type words, Martha decided not to say anything else. She let Suki do her job.

Martha had kept a few pieces of Betty’s clothes in her wardrobe, and Suki located a fine-knit emerald-green sweater and a black pencil skirt. She teamed these with a pair of Betty’s beige heels.

Martha felt that the color of the sweater was a little bright, too botanical, and the color of the heels reminded her of a dog’s skin, underneath its fur, but she told herself to trust Suki’s judgment.

She changed into the clothes in the bathroom. They were tighter than anything she’d worn before and she pulled at the sweater to loosen it. She was concerned it smelled a bit musty, so gave it a spritz of lily-of-the-valley air freshener.