She found them already sitting at the table, heads close together, gossiping. “Hello, girls,” she said, standing before them. They sprang apart, clocking the jacket and bag almost before they greeted her.
“Darling, you look gorgeous,” said Blythe, her green cat’s eyes sliding silkily up and down Miranda’s body in appreciation. “No one can say the country isn’t doing you good!”
“Thank you,” she replied, sitting down. She kissed them both, almost tasting their perfume on her lips.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” said Anoushka in her Anglo-American drawl. “Where are the boots from?” She tossed her wavy blond hair, aware of the man at the next-door table appraising her.
“Tod’s,” she replied.
“This season?” Anoushka’s voice had an edge to it.
“Yes.”
“They look great. I wonder if they’ve got any left. You don’t mind if I just call them quickly, do you?” She pulled out her mobile telephone and pressed the numbers with blood-red fingernails.
“So,” said Blythe. “How’s it all going down there?”
“It’s taken a while, but I’m beginning to settle in now. You’ll have to come and stay after Christmas.”
“I’d love to, when I’m back. We’re off to Mauritius for ten days. I’ve rented the private villa at the Saint Géran. The bastard has made me so miserable I have no qualms about spending his money. You know he’s dragging the whole thing on and on and on. I bet he won’t give me a divorce for the full two years. Even if it costs him more in the long run, he just wants to drag it out to torment me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s such a mess. I wish he’d give you a divorce and bugger off, then you can both get on with your lives. David tells me he’s been giving you advice.”
“David,” she repeated, smiling tenderly. “Your husband has been a real support. I don’t know what I’d have done without him. With you tucked away in the country I had no one to turn to. Then in he rides like a knight in shining armor. He’s so patient and thoughtful.”
“Oh good,” Miranda replied, wishing he was as patient and thoughtful with her.
“He’s given me invaluable advice. Thanks to him I’m going to fleece the bastard. He’s going to wish he had treated me better. David is my secret weapon.”
“Isn’t he begging you to come home?”
“Only because he doesn’t want to part with fifteen million.”
“I can’t say I blame him. That’s not exactly pocket money.”
“I deserve it for having put up with his infidelities for the last ten years. I might embark on some infidelity myself.”
“Have you found someone?”
“Maybe.” She looked coy.
“You have!” Miranda exclaimed. “Do I know him?”
“No,” said Blythe quickly. “No one knows him. It’s not big love, but it is big sex. He’s delicious in the sack. Makes me hit the ceiling every time.”
“Is he married?”
Blythe pulled a face.
“Oh, Blythe!” Miranda exclaimed. “Be careful. Remember how it feels. Don’t put some poor wife through the hell you went through.”
“It won’t last,” she said dismissively. “It’s only a bit of fun. I promise you, no one will get hurt. It’s not like I’m his mistress.”
“Then what are you?”
“A friend who fucks,” she replied with a self-satisfied smile. “Let’s order some champagne. We’re celebrating your return to the big smoke.” She called over the waiter with a brisk click of her fingers. Anoushka came off the phone having succeeded in reserving a pair of boots in a size seven.
“Such a relief,” she exclaimed. “I’d have died had they not had them. Now, let’s fill you in on the gossip,” she said. “There’s so much, I barely know where to start.”
Miranda listened while they recounted the scandals and misadventures that had kept London gossips busy in her absence. They drank champagne, picked at grilled fish with salad and hadn’t a nice word to say about anyone. Miranda felt oddly remote, as if a pane of glass separated her from the two of them. Once she had had news to contribute; now she had nothing to add. She would have liked to share Ava Lightly’s scrapbook and Jean-Paul, but Hartington was a world away from Knightsbridge. Small town news wouldn’t interest these big town girls.
There were plenty of affairs and divorces going on in London to keep those two vultures happy, pecking with relish at the exposed flesh of the hurt and vulnerable. Miranda sat back and listened with a mixture of intrigue and disgust. Having been away for a few months she was able to observe them with an objectivity she hadn’t had before. As the lunch progressed, her two friends became somewhat grotesque. Their collagen-enhanced lips grew swollen with champagne, their botoxed foreheads took on an alien quality, robbing them of humanity. The more they rummaged about the lives of London’s broken, the less compassionate they became. Miranda left to resume her Christmas shopping with a sour taste in her mouth. Suddenly London didn’t hold so great an appeal. The traffic was too loud, the pavements too crowded, the people unfriendly, even the smell of perfume on the ground floor of Harvey Nichols had become unbearable. She longed to return to the peace of Hartington.