The Loop by Anabel Donald

Author:Anabel Donald [Donald, Anabel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Nineteen

‘Oh brilliant, now it’s just us, though you know I love Barty, and I’m sorry if you and he really wanted to go to bed tonight but I so want to be with you, and you two have all the time in the world together, and now we can get the duvet and snuggle up on the sofa and you can tell me what you think of Magnus and we can watch Casablanca. Do you want to watch Casablanca?’ said Polly, opening a bottle of Australian red.

If I drank any more wine I’d pass out. ‘Water,’ I said. ‘Water, please. And a piece of bread. What time is it?’

Polly scuttled down to her kitchen, calling to me as she went. ‘It’s only just before midnight, not late for you, Alex, please, you don’t want to go to sleep yet.’ She reappeared with a bottle of Perrier, a glass and a stick of French bread. ‘What did you think of him? Tell me, tell me everything, you must have had a good time because you drank a lot, didn’t you, more than I’ve ever seen you drink in a restaurant, so you must have been relaxed – he has that effect on people, he’s so easy to get on with because he’s so charming, people say they feel as if they’ve known him for years, and he’s such a generous host, and he knows such a lot about wine—’

‘True,’ I said, nibbling the bread, visualising branches of Alcoholics Anonymous springing up all over the world in Magnus’s charming wake as he drove his guests to drink. I gulped a glass of water, then another, and the room stopped rotating, though the sofa was still heaving gently.

Polly sat down beside me and anchored the sofa. ‘I know you’ll be honest,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you think. Please?’

Difficult. Magnus was the kind of non-person my memory-banks reject. All façade: a polished nothing with empty eyes. I hoped I’d never have to have dinner with him again. ‘He’s extraordinary,’ I said.

‘Isn’t he?’ Polly was looking at me eagerly. ‘Do you think Barty liked him?’

I drank some more water and made an effort. ‘Polly, why don’t you follow your heart?’

‘That’s what Richard says.’

‘Who’s Richard?’

‘I’ve told you, he’s my boss.’

So she had. Only this morning. I must be even drunker than I’d thought. I closed my eyes. Bad mistake: the sofa heaved. I opened them to find that Casablanca was flickering away on the TV screen and that Polly had fetched the duvet from her bedroom and settled it over us. ‘It’s nice to be alone, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Odd thing about Magnus, he’s a terrific person but he’s not actually fun. For instance, I can’t relax like this with him.’

I had to get into the girlie spirit somehow. ‘What’s he like in bed?’ I said.

‘Guess,’ she said.

‘No idea,’ I said, and I didn’t snap, which should have earned me all kinds of credit.

‘The thing is – it’s not exactly – that’s sort of changed, hasn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘Relationships.

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