‘How did you know I’d seen him?’ countered Sam with genuine surprise.
Izzy shrugged. ‘It stands to reason, doesn’t it? He’s your friend and you have a habit of not wasting time. You were bound to see him.’
‘I suppose so.’ He smiled, conceding the point. He liked women who were on the ball. ‘Well, it isn’t going brilliantly. If Marcy wasn’t pregnant he’d be back with Gina like a shot.’
Izzy, idly stirring her wine with a finger, said, ‘Then it’s lucky for Gina that Marcy is pregnant. Otherwise she just might be stupid enough to take him.’
‘And you and Katerina would have to find somewhere else to live,’ observed Sam drily.
Izzy bristled. ‘That’s a cheap shot. I don’t happen to have a very high opinion of men like Andrew Lawrence; he’s a shit of the first order.’
‘Did your husband leave you for another woman?’
‘Me?’ She looked surprised, then shrugged dismissively. ‘Kat’s father did offer to marry me, if that’s who you are thinking about, but I turned him down - very politely - and got out while the going was good.’
‘Why?’ asked Sam, interested.
‘Because sooner or later I would have ended up like Gina.’ Pausing, taking a sip of her drink, she added, ‘And because he was already married when I met him.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I didn’t know that, then. I was eighteen and gullible, and by the time I found out he had a wife it was too late; I was already pregnant. End of sordid story,’ declared Izzy, as the waiter approached with their food. ‘And don’t look at me like that, because it wasn’t tragic and it didn’t ruin my life. I have a better daughter than any mother has a right to expect and the experience taught me everything I needed to know about men. I only told you about it so you’d understand why I feel as strongly as I do about Gina and Andrew. And you still haven’t said anything about Marcy,’ she complained, steering him neatly back to the subject in hand. Picking up a lobster claw and tilting her head to one side, she said, ‘You met her, didn’t you? So, what is she, a complete dog?’
‘Oh, it’s a hard life,’ said Katerina mockingly as she washed up after dinner that evening. Izzy, who had propped herself against the draining board in order to dry the dishes, was regaling her with details of her day.
‘It’s such a beautiful flat,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘They were
all
beautiful flats . . . and just think, darling, one day when we’re rich beyond our wildest dreams, we’ll live in a penthouse apartment every bit as fabulous as Sam’s. Won’t that be great?’
‘Do excuse my mother, she’s an incurable fantasist.’ Katerina grinned at Sam, who had just walked into the kitchen. Then, her attention returning to Izzy, her expression changed to one of alarm.
‘Mum, your gold chain - you aren’t wearing it!’
Izzy’s hand went automatically to the V of her open shirt. Then she shrugged. ‘I must have left it upstairs.’
‘But you never take it off,’ began Katerina. ‘You
always
—’
‘It’s upstairs,’ Izzy repeated firmly, before she could say any more. ‘Now give me that dish before you wash the pattern off it. When I’m rich beyond my wildest dreams I’m going to get myself a new daughter,’ she continued smoothly, addressing Sam and silently defying him to comment on the fact that her cheeks were ablaze with colour. ‘One who doesn’t nag her poor old mother to death.’
When Sam returned to the living room he found Gina curled up on the sofa working out sums on the back of an electricity bill. Despite the fact that he had written her out a sizeable cheque that morning, her narrow blonde eyebrows were still furrowed with concern.
‘Everything OK?’ he said, touching her shoulder and making her jump.
‘As well as can be expected.’ Gina managed a wan smile. ‘I hate to sound like a helpless housewife, but I simply hadn’t realised how much it costs just to live.’
Experiencing a fresh surge of irritation as he recalled Izzy Van Asch’s own cavalier attitudes towards such mundanities as household budgeting, he said brusquely, ‘Particularly when you have freeloading lodgers to support. Sweetheart, you’re too easygoing . . . if Izzy doesn’t cough up soon, you’ll have to ask her to leave.’
Gina looked up, surprised. Then, with a vigorous shake of her head, she said, ‘Oh, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. She’s paid me two months’ rent.’
It was now Sam’s turn to look surprised. ‘Good,’ he replied, somewhat mollified. ‘And about bloody time too.’ She must have sold the necklace while he was signing forms in the estate agent’s offices, he decided. At least it proved she had a conscience of sorts.
Pleased with himself . . . and, to be fair, with Izzy . . . he said, ‘My little chat with her this morning must have sunk in after all.’
‘I don’t know, maybe it did.’ Gina had turned her attention back to her sums. Then, absently, she added, ‘But Izzy gave me the money yesterday.’
Having the plaster cast removed from her leg the following Friday was sheer bliss. Another advantage, Izzy discovered upon returning home several hours later, was that she could move silently once more, without her arrival everywhere being heralded by the noisy, give-away clunking of crutches.
‘I’m back!’ she announced delightedly, flinging open the door of Katerina’s room.
Katerina, who was lying on top of her bed, jumped a mile and hastily shoved the book she’d been reading under the pillows. ‘Mother! You’re supposed to knock.’
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ said Izzy serenely. Advancing towards the bed, she added with a lascivious grin, ‘And it rather looks as if I have. What’s that you’re hiding?’
‘Homework,’ Katerina protested, turning pink and wondering why she had to have the nosiest mother in the entire world.
But it was hopeless; no longer hampered by her plaster cast, Izzy was upon her in a flash, tickling her ribs unmercifully with one hand and tearing the book out from its hiding place with the other. Then, retreating triumphantly to the safety of the doorway, she held it aloft.
‘
The Joy of Sex!
Honestly darling, what a waste of money. I could have told you how nice it is, for nothing.’
‘Give it back,’ wailed Katerina, mortified. When Izzy was in this kind of mood there was no stopping her, and no knowing what she’d do to extract maximum pleasure from Kat’s embarrassment.
‘But sweetheart, I thought you weren’t interested in boys,’ continued Izzy gleefully. ‘And even if you were, these pictures would be enough to put
anyone
off them for life. Will you look at that chap’s haircut? And as for his beard . . . yuk!’
Katerina wasn’t interested in boys, but Simon’s unexpected and clumsy seduction attempt the previous week had had a more profound effect on her than she’d first realised. Just for a fraction of a second, she was able to admit to herself later, she had been tempted to go through with it just to see what ‘it’ was like, and only getting the giggles had saved her.
But had she really been saved? Sex might be a mystery to her, but everyone else seemed to enjoy it and if it were really that marvellous, then maybe she was missing out. Having given the matter a great deal of serious thought, Katerina had decided not to initiate a return match with Simon - great friend though he was, she felt instinctively that there should be more
emotional
involvement between lovers - but to pay at least a little attention to the more technical aspects of the procedure. It was only sensible, after all, to be prepared. Then, when the right person did come along, at least she wouldn’t run the risk of making a complete idiot of herself by getting it hopelessly wrong. That, she thought with a shudder, would be even more humiliating than coming last in a chemistry exam.
But now, faced with her mother’s helpless laughter and realizing that only the truth would do, she said firmly, ‘It’s research, that’s all. Don’t make a big thing of it, Mum.’
‘A big thing . . .’ murmured Izzy, catching sight of one of the more detailed illustrations in the book and wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Oh Kat, don’t look at me like that . . . it’s just so
funny
. . .’
‘I could always break your other leg,’ Katerina offered, moving towards her. ‘Look Mum, why don’t you calm down and just give me back the—’
She lunged forwards, but it was too late. Darting back through the doorway and out on to the landing, Izzy hurled the book down the stairs.
At precisely that moment, they both heard the front door open.
Katerina held her breath. Izzy, still shaking with laughter, sidled barefoot along the landing and peered over the carved wooden banister rail at Sam, who was standing at the bottom of the staircase with the book in his hand.
‘Please mister,’ said Izzy, adopting an expression of wide-eyed innocence, ‘can we have our book back please?’
Observing the fact that the long-awaited removal of the plaster cast had taken place, Sam glanced at the cover of the book, then - without a flicker - returned his gaze to Izzy.
‘Have I interrupted something,’ he said drily, ‘or is this an invitation?’
Stifling a giggle, Izzy said solemnly, ‘Revision. Now that I’ve got my leg back, I thought I’d better refresh my memory. It’s been so long, I may have forgotten how it goes.’
Chapter 12
Bored to the back teeth with inactivity, Izzy celebrated her return to the two-legged world by going out and getting herself re-employed.
Job prospects on the singing front being as dire as ever, it took two hours of cajoling and an extremely short skirt to persuade Bernie Cooper to take her back on at Platform One, the none-too-ritzy club in Soho at which she had been working up until her accident.
But in the mean time, she had been replaced by an enormously well-endowed blues singer called Arlette and Bernie was only able to offer her one evening a week, which meant she was forced to take a pub job as well.
The work at Brennan’s Bar - in nearby Covent Garden - was hard, the atmosphere frantic and the pay ridiculously low, but at least it left her with most days free so she was able to attend auditions.
Gina’s nights, meanwhile, were becoming increasingly prolonged and unbearable. The days she could just about cope with, because then at least the shops were open, but the evenings alone - when both Izzy and Sam had disappeared to their respective places of work and Katerina had retired to her room to study - were miserable and endless. Worse still, and because she was such a light sleeper, she invariably was woken at around three in the morning by the sound of Izzy and Sam returning home, laughing and joking together as they shared a late-night snack and watched a video before finally retiring to their beds an hour or two later.
One night, having told herself firmly that of course they weren’t discussing her, Gina slid out of bed and pulled on a thin dressing gown. They sounded as if they were having so much fun downstairs . . . and she was so
lonely
. . .
But the laughter had subsided by the time she’d crept across the hall and when she paused by the sitting-room door she was able to hear their lowered voices quite clearly.
‘. . . it’s so crazy,’ Izzy was saying with characteristic impatience. ‘I’ve tried to make her realise that she’s wasting her life, but she simply refuses to do anything about it. It’s almost as if she enjoys being unhappy.’
Gina shivered, clutching the wall for support.
‘Of course she doesn’t,’ she heard Sam reply in more reasonable terms. ‘She just isn’t able to help herself at the moment. I know it’s frustrating—’
‘Damn right it’s frustrating,’ said Izzy hotly. ‘She spends more money on clothes than all the Royals put together, then panics because she can’t pay the gas bill.’
‘According to your daughter, that’s exactly what you do.’
‘But I don’t panic, I enjoy it!’ Izzy retaliated. ‘What’s really frustrating is the fact that Gina does it and she’s
still
miserable.’
‘She needs something to occupy her mind,’ said Sam, above the clinking of glasses. ‘Some kind of job, although when I mentioned it to her the other day you’d have thought I’d suggested prostitution.’