Women of a Dangerous Age. Fanny Blake

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СКАЧАТЬ get out of her seat, Lou began to prepare herself for sleep. She didn’t bother to check which films were playing. As soon as the cabin lights were dimmed, she slipped herself a sleeping pill donated by a doctor friend for the occasion, wrapped herself in her blanket, reclined her seat, put on her canary yellow eye mask and rested her head against the side of the plane. Sleep was the only thing that would make the flight go faster. She would catch up more with Ali in London. Ten minutes later, her mouth had fallen open enough to signify she was asleep but not quite enough to warrant total embarrassment.

      3

      The unearthly flickering light of the tiny TV screens set in the seat backs illuminated the blanket-wrapped huddles of passengers. Walking back down the darkened aisle, Ali thought how she could justify what she’d said about Ian and his marriage so that Lou would understand. Although she’d only known her a short time, theirs was already becoming a friendship she wanted to continue. She didn’t want to derail it by not explaining herself properly. Besides that, she was intrigued by the fact that Lou obviously didn’t want to talk about her own marriage and how it had ended. No, there was plenty more to find out about each other.

      But by the time she returned to her seat, Lou was out for the count.

      Ali’s other neighbour was lying back, absorbed in a film, but let her pass with a polite nod before returning his attention to the screen. Denied conversation, she took out her travel pillow, blew it up and fitted it round her neck. She popped a second Imodium (probably a mistake) in response to a sudden cramping in her lower stomach, then closed her eyes and turned her mind to home, focusing on what she hadn’t told Lou, what she hadn’t told anyone: that setting up home with Ian was significant in more ways than one. It meant that her life as a serial mistress was almost over.

      She hadn’t considered her relationship with Ian in any way different from those she’d had with the string of married lovers who came before him, until six weeks earlier when he suggested they rethink their relationship. None of her previous lovers had come close to suggesting such a thing. Perhaps they had all believed she was one hundred per cent against one hundred per cent commitment. And they would have been right. Until now, she had been. She suspected Lou would say that it suited them to believe that. Lou’s cynical take on life amused her, made her look at things in a new light.

      Ian’s suggestion that they live together was so unexpected that, when it came, she had been unable to reply immediately. They’d finished dinner quickly, Ian looking uncomfortable, obviously wishing he had put it another way, another time – or not at all. If she agreed, she didn’t need Einstein to point out that her life and their relationship would change forever. What niggled her was how much that mattered to her. She couldn’t abandon her way of life without some thought. Being his mistress had meant the relationship ran on her terms while she allowed him to believe that it ran on his. That’s how she had preferred all her relationships with men to be since Don had left her over twenty years earlier. With him, she had enjoyed being half of the whole they made together. After they lost touch, she had remained single, unwilling to take the risk of committing herself to anyone else, scared of rejection.

      Agreeing to Ian’s proposal would mean a shift in their dynamic. But why not take that risk? The more she had thought about it, the more that shift appealed. Every evening they would come home to each other. Weekends would be spent together doing those things that couples do together: cooking, talking, going out with friends, sharing interests, and getting to know one another in a new way, discovering the truth. Now it had been offered, permanent companionship, something that had been so absent in her life for so long, something she had never thought would be hers again, was suddenly something she craved. She even dared allow herself to imagine that she and Ian might have a child together. She’d read about women giving birth in their mid-forties. It wasn’t a total impossibility. She wondered what he’d say. After all, she was at an age where she could upend her life if she wanted to – as long as she held on to her independence.

      Her memory of the morning following his proposal was quite clear. She had woken up beside him, her mind made up.

      ‘Morning.’ She’d kissed his left eye, then his right.

      He’d groaned as he rolled to face her, squinting as he opened one and then the other eye. ‘God! That brandy was a mistake.’

      ‘But you’re usually OK.’ Their noses were almost touching and she could just smell his morning-after breath. She couldn’t help noticing the few broken veins in his cheeks, the incipient wrinkles around his mouth, his greyish overnight stubble: all reminders that time was marching on. He slid his arm around her waist.

      ‘Yeah, but last night was different.’ He pulled back a little and looked at her. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you the way I did. Stupid of me. I don’t want to spoil what we’ve got either. I’m happy to leave things be, if that’s what you want. In fact, perhaps that would be better for both of us.’

      ‘Stop right there,’ she said, not wanting him to retract anything, not now her own thoughts were changing so fast. ‘I lay awake for half the night, thinking about what you said.’

      ‘Did you? Poor baby. Forget it. We’re fine just as we are. Really.’ He kissed her, slow and lingering, the definite prelude for more. He slid his leg between hers.

      She began to respond, then wriggled out of the embrace.

      ‘Come on. Don’t let a bloke down now. We haven’t got much time.’ He’d reached for her again. But she had something important to say.

      ‘I know, I know, but …’ She sat up, plumping the pillow behind her and adding a couple of the scatter cushions that had been relegated to the floor. ‘We’ve got to talk.’

      ‘About what?’ He scratched his head so his hair stood on end. He leaned across her and flicked the Today programme over to Radio 3 as the presenter announced Debussy’s La Plus que Lente. The notes of the piano swelled and fell in the quiet of the room as he waited for Ali to speak.

      ‘About last night. About what you said.’

      He screwed up his right eye and with his right thumb on his cheekbone rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. ‘Yes?’

      She heard how apprehensive he was, so hurried to put him out of his misery. ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’ She watched his eyes open wide in surprise. ‘I was shocked last night. But I’ve thought and thought about what it would mean and now I know that’s what I want too.’

      ‘You do?’ He sat up too, his voice coloured with disbelief.

      ‘I definitely do.’

      He enveloped her in a bear hug, pulling her over so they lay face to face, but she hadn’t finished. ‘I love you and want to be with you. But … what about your wife? What will you do?’

      ‘Forget about her,’ he’d whispered. ‘You didn’t want to know about her before, so let’s keep it that way for now. I don’t want her to spoil anything.’

      Remembering his words again now reminded her of how little she really knew about him. Lou was so right to have picked up on that. Aware of movement beside her, Ali opened her eyes, hoping to find her friend awake and in a mood to talk. But despite her change of position, Lou’s head was slumped against the headrest, her distinctive eye mask still in place.

      Disappointed, Ali shifted in her seat, slipping off her shoes, and returned to her thoughts. She had curled herself around their secret until she’d got used to it, squeezing every drop of private pleasure from it. She was СКАЧАТЬ