The Planner(30)

‘So what do you want to do next?’ said Laura. ‘Shall I get another drink? Or we could get some food if you like?’

He had never expected this to happen, but it was clear that, however much wine they drank, James was now in control of the evening, and what happened next would depend on how he felt about it. And how did he feel about it? Well, many things, but above all he felt tired. He was tired of the small dark pub with its prints of Victorian London and illustrations from Charles Dickens imported from the Philippines, he was tired of eating roasted peanuts and salt and vinegar crisps, and he was even tired of them being the most attractive people there. But changing the venue, which he could easily do if he wanted, wasn’t going to help, for most of all, he was tired of Laura.

‘Let’s go,’ said James. ‘I think we’ve had all the fun we can out of this place.’

Laura sprung up to leave, with an over-eagerness and willingness to please that her professional conditioning was meant to have suppressed.

‘Yes, good idea. I think if we stay any longer we’ll soon reach the point of negative marginal utility.’

As she said this, she urged a chuckle into her voice, to make it clear she was attempting a joke.

Outside, it was quiet, as the streets often were in the very centre of London, as if the entire ruling class had left for a cocktail party. All around them were substantial square buildings made of Portland Stone, set back from the road and protected by cast-iron railings. It was here that plans were drawn up and instructions issued for the rest of the country by public servants who were far better paid than James and enrolled on to different pension schemes. But it was Friday night, and the lights were all out. Nor was it clear that anyone was listening anyway. And maybe Laura was right, maybe it was for the best if no one in government did anything other than come up with compelling reasons for not doing anything. It wasn’t as if anyone seemed to like what James did. That was another problem with spending an evening in the company of somebody who was right-wing: you often ended up agreeing with them.

‘So whereabouts in London do you live?’ said James.

‘I’m in Balham,’ said Laura.

James nodded. He could have guessed that.

‘Yes, it’s nice there,’ he said, absent-mindedly.

He wondered what Alice was doing that evening. She wouldn’t be in a pub in Whitehall, that was for sure. Primrose Hill, Notting Hill, Islington, Farringdon – even James knew that no one who lived in London, who really lived in London, spent their evenings in the town centre. At any rate, it was a consolation that Laura was better looking than her.

‘Yes, I really like it. It’s got everything really. And fortunately my brother and I bought our flat there a while ago, just as prices really started to rocket.’

‘Oh, that’s great,’ said James. ‘What does your brother do?’

‘He’s an economist too,’ said Laura. ‘But he works for a bank.’

They walked together down the road in the direction of the Tube station – it seemed to suit them both not to specify a plan for the moment. Laura lurched heavily into him and put an arm over his shoulder but, again, she was no good at this sort of thing and it wasn’t clear if she was trying to be intimate or had clumsy ankles. James tried to think of something to say, something about her brother or Balham or the global economy, but it was difficult. It was difficult because he wasn’t interested. He already knew what her flat would be like, that it would have a glass coffee table, stainless steel kitchenware and blonde wood furniture, and he knew approximately how much it was worth, and the kinds of things her brother would have to say.

And so James left her outside the station. They had kissed goodbye at the entrance – on the cheek to begin with, and then, as she had turned her face into his, he had stepped back and used his height to neatly kiss her on the forehead.

‘Well, goodnight,’ he said. ‘It was really great meeting you.’

‘Yes,’ said Laura, confused and suddenly uneasy. ‘Yes, I really enjoyed it. Aren’t you getting on the Tube too?’

‘No, I think I’ll get a bus home.’

‘Really? Are you sure? That sounds a bit arduous.’

‘It’s probably the best way to get home at this time,’ he said.

‘Oh, okay. Well, goodnight. It was nice meeting you.’

‘Yes, goodnight,’ and as he said this, she was already moving smartly away from him, attempting, at the very end of the evening, to reassert her status. James knew it was important that he let her do this.

It had been simply done, but it was a massive victory nonetheless. True, she had been gruelling company and he was glad to be rid of her, but still, the fact remained: she was a very attractive woman and he could have kissed her a great deal more if he’d wanted. He could have taken her for another drink, escorted her back home, let the night continue in all sorts of ways, but he had decided not to. And the reasons for doing so had only been partly based on fear.