The Men in her Life

ritual for two grown-up people to be enacting.
    She got back into bed shivering with cold. Piers rolled her over and tied the corset laces tight, squeezing her ribcage, pushing her small breasts up like a serving-wench in a costume drama. He rolled her over again and began to lick the exposed flesh above her stocking-tops. Holly relaxed, waiting for the usual electric shocks of desire, but feeling nothing. After a few minutes she looked down dispassionately at her cleavage, her lace-encased tummy, Piers’s head bobbing with the effort of giving her pleasure, then suddenly she pulled herself up to sitting, leaving his nose pressed against the bottom sheet.
    ‘Piss off, Piers,’ she told him.
    He looked up and smiled, his eyes sparkling at the idea of a new game.
    ‘No, I mean it. Just get out.’ Her voice was calm, not aggressive, but firm. She got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. ‘I want to go down to the South Bank. I want to celebrate. The country’s had enough of the Tories, and I’ve had enough of you. It’s New Labour, New Lover, I’m afraid,’ she continued, rather pleased with the alliteration.
    ‘How much have you had to drink?’ he asked her, disbelievingly, suddenly looking rather vulnerable with no clothes on.
    ‘Surprisingly little,’ she told him, ‘but I’m sick of sleaze,’ she handed him his underpants, ‘and I deserve better...’

Chapter 6

    There was a sunset and even when the sun had dropped beyond the horizon, the sky remained red and the air retained its clement warmth. It seemed like a good omen for Labour. As it grew dark, Pepe turned the music up, and the air was filled with the smoky, aromatic smell of charcoal and marinade. Everyone was in a good mood. Even the disagreement about what colour the lights strung along the front should be — supporters oo red forced to compromise with supporters of yellow on alternate bulbs to reflect the balance of political views — seemed to have floated away on a breeze of bonhomie. The only thing that had been overlooked was access to a television, but Mr Chan, who owned the takeaway on the front, had agreed to stay open until two and was doing brisk business.
    There weren’t many takers for the hamburgers Clare was turning on the giant barbecue, but her shift was almost up. In the waving orange light of a burning torch, she watched Joss flirting with her friend Olivia in a manner that suggested they had very recently had Sex, or were about to. Olivia was giggling and fiddling with her hair in a way you just don’t do when you have known someone many years, unless the chemistry between you has changed. She kept glancing in Clare’s direction to see whether she had noticed. Odd, Clare thought, spearing a charred burger with a long-handled fork, that she should be so concerned for her feelings, or perhaps it wasn’t that. Perhaps adultery lost some of its pleasure when the wife was looking.
    ‘I love your top.’ Vivienne came and stood just a little bit too close to her as she always did.
    ‘Really? It’s just a T-shirt, I sewed some bits on. Had to do something...’ Clare smiled, her eyes still fixed on her husband.
    ‘I know what you’re thinking, and I’m sure you’re wrong.’ Vivienne followed her gaze.
    ‘Well, if anyone should know, it’s you.’ Clare meant it as a casual remark, but Vivienne flinched.
    ‘I thought we’d got over that,’ she said, in a little hurt voice, ‘I thought we’d talked it all out long ago.’ Vivienne was the kind of person who thought that any problem could be solved by talking about it or applying tea tree oil.
    ‘We did talk about it and it is a long time ago, but that doesn’t cancel the fact that you slept with him,’ Clare said, quite reasonably.
    ‘I thought you’d forgiven me...’
    ‘I did forgive you.’ Clare was slightly irritated by the ease with which Vivienne had taken on the mantle of the wronged one. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wondering why on earth she should be the one to apologize, except that part-time work in Vivienne’s shop was one of her only regular sources of income. ‘I should be used to it. I should probably be flattered that my husband is so very attractive to other women...’
    She could not hear what Joss was saying but she could see his face and she knew what it felt like to be Olivia at that moment. Sometimes, rarely these days, Joss could still make her feel like that. He could conjure a compliment from the simplest thing. He