What became of us

one of the boys?
    ‘You promised you wouldn’t mention it.’
    ‘I thought you said he didn’t turn up,’ Annie reminded her.
    Ursula’s silence proved her guilt.
    ‘How is George, by the way?’ Annie asked, wandering restlessly round the flat with her cordless phone. She shut the doors to each of her cupboards, then went into the kitchen and threw open the fridge.
    ‘Spotty but fine,’ Ursula said, ‘thank you.’
    The choice was champagne or Diet Coke. She took out a can and opened it, took a slurp, swallowed and said, ‘So, I spend the whole weekend thinking how brilliantly restrained I’m being with a married man and it turns out that he’s divorced.’
    ‘Really?’ Ursula said, ‘for how long?’
    ‘No idea. He only announced it as we were saying goodbye. It was a bit too late to be interested by then.’ She took another slurp but some of it missed her mouth and soaked into her white T-shirt.
    ‘I thought he wasn’t your type,’ Ursula said.
    ‘I think I’ve been going for the wrong type.’
    Annie took a sponge from beside the sink and ran water on it then dabbed at her front.
    ‘Are you in the shower or something?’ Ursula asked.
    ‘No, just trying to get something off my T-shirt.’ Annie held the cordless phone under her chin and scrubbed. Now the T-shirt had Diet Coke, washing-up water and little flecks of orange sponge on it. She gave up and walked back into the living room.
    ‘You see, I’ve always gone for small bums, and that just makes me feel huge, so from now on I’ve decided I’m not going to look at a man unless I could comfortably wear his jeans. I’d never eaten a guilt-free bacon sandwich until I met Ian.’
    ‘Oh, then it must be love,’ Ursula said, sarcastically. ‘How’s Barry?’ Annie shot back, lying down on the sofa.
    The room was rather hot. She thought she had better look into getting air conditioning if this weather was going to go on, or a ceiling fan. A ceiling fan would be good, she thought. And some palms in terracotta pots.
    ‘He’s in the kitchen cooking me supper,’ Ursula said smugly.
    ‘Very Marco Pierre White.’
    ‘Marks and Spencer actually,’ Ursula said.
    Barry was probably a bit Marks and Spencer in the bedroom too, Annie thought, imagining Ursula’s husband in a pair of pyjamas. Did Ian wear pyjamas? She didn’t think so.
    ‘I’ve never had sex with a doctor,’ Annie ruminated. ‘Do you think it feels like you’re having a smear? Open a little wider, now relax, good, that’s it, well done?’
    ‘Probably,’ said Ursula.
    ‘At least he’d know where all your bits are,’ Annie said.
    ‘Yes, but that’s not what makes good sex, is it?’ Ursula replied. ‘You can be as proficient as you like, but in the end good sex is about a willingness to give another person pleasure, don’t you think?’
    ‘I hope your boys aren’t listening,’ Annie said.
    Another sharp intake of breath.
    ‘Although it would probably do them good to hear it,’ Annie said.
    Ursula remained silent.
    ‘At least the world didn’t end,’ Annie said.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Nostradamus said it was going to this weekend.’
    ‘Oh.’
    There was a short silence.
    ‘Anyway, I’ve blown it,’ said Annie.
    ‘Why don’t you call him?’ Ursula suggested.
    ‘Haven’t got his number,’ said Annie.
    ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, that couldn’t be too hard to find.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any point. We’re from different worlds, aren’t we?’ Annie said, airily. ‘Do I honestly want to be a provincial doctor’s wife in Kent?’
    ‘You haven’t even got to first kiss yet. Anyway, that’s not a very feminist hypothesis, is it?’
    ‘Well, he wouldn’t fit into my world, would he?’
    ‘It might finish off your series if you suddenly retreated into married bliss,’ Ursula observed shrewishly.
    ‘Yes, there aren’t a lot of laughs in marriage, are there?’ Annie retaliated, wishing that she and Ursula weren’t always so competitive. She had rung up for a good old self-pitying moan, but they never could resist a sniping contest.
    ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I don’t want children. An afternoon with your nieces once a year is quite enough in that department.’
    ‘How are they?’
    ‘They seemed happy enough. I’m just not very interested in children, I think.’
    ‘Is he, though?’ Ursula returned her to the subject of Ian.
    ‘He seems very fond of those he’s got. They would probably hate me...’
    ‘I’m sure they