In Bed With Lord Byron

you been doing?’ Anthony grumbled five minutes later as I finally opened the door. He was soaked, rivulets trickling over his face. ‘We
must have rung that bloody doorbell thirty times, Luce!’
    ‘Sorry – things were just a bit . . . crazy,’ I said, gazing at Kerry.
    ‘Hi, Lucy,’ she said. Her accent – a hybrid of Aussie and US – was as odd as Anthony had promised. I held out my hand for her to shake, but she leaned in and gave me a
hug. It was so warm and confident that I felt endeared despite myself.
    ‘Come up,’ I said. Relief soothed the anxious grinding of my stomach muscles. She was pretty, but not
that
pretty. She had short hair, for a start – an autumnal haze of
highlights – and Anthony had confided in me that he hated short hair on women. She was tall and slender, and a very snappy dresser. Her black suit made her look as though she ought to be
shouting commands behind the editorial desk of a women’s magazine.
    ‘Wow, this is such a lovely flat,’ she said, as we went up the stairs. ‘It’s so nice of Anthony to rent it you, hey?’
    I whipped round, suspecting sarcasm and jealousy, but once again she was smiling warmly.
    ‘Um, yes,’ I said.
    I looked at Anthony and he was gazing at me, eyes questioning, seeking approval, a verdict. What I really wanted to say, of course, was
Chuck her this instant!
But I gave him a little nod
and he broke into a relieved smile. I smiled back, feeling my facial muscles quiver. I had no doubt that by the end of the evening my face would be aching from all the lies I was going to
superimpose on it.
    I realised that Anthony and Kerry were looking at me expectantly.
    Oh God.
    Now for Lord Byron.
    Dear God
, I prayed, as I led them into the living room,
please, please can he behave.
    Unfortunately, God was off duty, for Byron did nothing of the sort.
    It didn’t start off too badly, which was unfortunate, for I was lulled into a false sense of security.
    We found him sitting by the table, holding up a knife and examining his teeth.
    ‘Good evening,’ he said, rising. For one moment, as he puffed up his chest and his chin, I saw the vulnerability beneath his arrogance. Then I saw him eyeing up Kerry, quite openly.
Something flickered in his eyes, rather as one might imagine a wolf would look when spotting an innocent rabbit.
    ‘Hi,’ Kerry said, preening slightly, enjoying his attention – as any woman would, I supposed grudgingly. ‘Great to meet you!’
    ‘I’m Byron,’ he purred softly, ignoring the frantic look I gave him.
    ‘Oh, Brian – oh cool. I once knew a Brian and he was great,’ she enthused.
    Thank God for Kerry.
    ‘I’m Kerry,’ she said. She held out her hand to shake, but Byron picked it up and kissed it. She blushed and gave a little laugh. I saw Anthony give me a faintly pained look,
as though to say,
Well, we seem to have a bit of a smooth operator here
.
    Then Anthony saw the dinner table.
    ‘So you really did cook.’ He checked his watch. ‘Ah. Must dash.’ He winked at me affectionately, but I didn’t wink back.
    ‘We’re having French onion soup to start, then roast chicken and then tiramisu for dessert,’ I said icily. ‘So please do sit down and Byron . . . I mean Brian . . . can
pour the wine.’
    ‘Sounds lovely,’ said Kerry, giving me another warm smile that melted another layer of my frost.
Be nice, Lucy,
I kept telling myself.
Remember that this is hard for her
too.
    But I didn’t want to be nice to her. I wanted Anthony back.
    In the kitchen, I ladled out the soup. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Anthony and Kerry together. It was the little gestures that got to me. They possessed the familiar, fond intimacy of
a newly married couple. Anthony pulled out her chair for her; Kerry laid his napkin on his lap; he lifted a strand of hair from her face and brushed it behind her ear. I wanted to throw a tantrum
like a little girl, shout that life was unfair, that he was mine. But I was an adult, and being an adult, was all about putting on a show, about hiding your feelings under layers of social decorum.
So I walked pleasantly into the living room and set down the bowls, and Kerry helped me pass them round.
    I saw Anthony lift his spoon and bring it to his lips. He paused, staring at it dubiously, and Kerry laughed and gave him a little nudge to tell him off for being rude. I felt an urge to slap
him. Then he sipped at the soup and glanced over with such a beautiful smile