The Last Letter from Your Lover

hers. He fancied he could smell the musty scent of sex now mingling with the traces of perfume. Oh, but he had never felt anything like that. He closed his eyes for a moment, conjuring up the feel of her, the feel of . . .
    ‘Well, hello, Mrs Stirling!’
    He located the shoe under an upturned chair, and heard Jennifer’s voice, a brief murmur of conversation.
    As he emerged, a young man had stopped by the cloakroom. A cigarette was wedged in the corner of his mouth, and he had his arm around a dark-haired girl who was clapping enthusiastically in the direction of the music.
    ‘How are you, Reggie?’ Jennifer was holding out a hand, which he took briefly.
    Anthony saw the young man’s eyes slide towards him. ‘I’m fine. Mr Stirling with you?’
    She barely missed a beat. ‘Laurence is away on business. This is Anthony, a friend of ours. He’s very kindly taking me out this evening.’
    A hand snaked across. ‘How do you do?’
    Anthony’s smile felt like a grimace.
    Reggie stood there, his eyes lifting to Jennifer’s hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, something unpleasantly knowing in his gaze. He nodded towards her feet. ‘You seem to be . . . missing a shoe.’
    ‘My dancing shoes. I checked them in and got a mixed pair back. Silly of me.’ Her voice was cool, seamless.
    Anthony held it out. ‘Found it,’ he said. ‘I’ve put your outdoor shoes back under the coat.’ Sherrie sat motionless beside him, her face buried in her book.
    Reggie smirked, clearly enjoying the hiatus he had caused. Anthony wondered briefly whether he was waiting to be offered a drink or asked to join them, but he was damned if he’d do either.
    Thankfully, Reggie’s female companion tugged at his arm. ‘Come on, Reggie. Look, Mel’s over there.’
    ‘Duty calls.’ Reggie waved, and was gone, weaving through the tables. ‘Enjoy your . . . dancing.’
    ‘Damn,’ she said, under her breath. ‘Damn. Damn. Damn.’
    He steered her back into the main room. ‘Let’s get a drink.’
    They slid into their booth, the rapture of ten minutes ago already a distant memory. Anthony had disliked the young man on sight – but for that loss he could have thumped him.
    She downed a martini in a single gulp. In other circumstances he would have found it amusing. Now, however, it signified her anxiety.
    ‘Stop fretting,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
    ‘But what if he tells—’
    ‘So leave Laurence. Simple.’
    ‘Anthony . . .’
    ‘You can’t go back to him, Jenny. Not after that. You know it.’
    She pulled out a compact, and rubbed at the mascara under her eyes. Apparently dissatisfied, she snapped it shut.
    ‘Jenny?’
    ‘Think about what you’re asking me. I’d lose everything. My family . . . everything my life is. I’d be disgraced.’
    ‘But you’d have me. I’d make you happy. You said so.’
    ‘It’s different for women. I’d be—’
    ‘We’ll get married.’
    ‘You really think Laurence would ever divorce me? You think he’d let me go?’ Her face had clouded.
    ‘I know he’s not right for you. I am.’ When she didn’t reply, he said, ‘Are you happy with him? Is this the life you want for yourself? To be a prisoner in a gilded cage?’
    ‘I’m not a prisoner. Don’t be ridiculous.’
    ‘You just can’t see it.’
    ‘No. That’s how you want to see it. Larry isn’t a bad man.’
    ‘You can’t see it yet, Jenny, but you’re going to become more and more unhappy with him.’
    ‘Now you’re a fortune-teller as well as a hack?’
    He still felt raw, and it made him reckless. ‘He’ll squash you, extinguish the things that make you you. Jennifer, the man’s a fool, a dangerous fool, and you’re too blind to see it.’
    Her face whipped round. ‘How dare you? How dare you?’
    He saw the tears in her eyes, and the heat within him dissipated. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, made to wipe her eyes with it but she blocked his hand. ‘Don’t,’ she murmured. ‘Reggie might be watching.’
    ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you cry. Please don’t cry.’
    They sat in an unhappy silence, staring at the dance-floor.
    ‘It’s just so hard,’ she murmured. ‘I thought I was happy. I thought my life was fine. And then you came along and nothing . . . nothing makes sense any more. All the things I’d had planned – houses, children, holidays – I don’t want them now. I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. I think about you