Page 126 of Wife After Wife
Harry
After the photo call, Harry took the Rose Air PR team, plus the pilot and Zara Lively, for lunch. Terri had come along too, as theRackwas doing a piece on the launch, thinly disguised as a feature on the future of budget airlines.
Harry took a seat next to Zara, who’d just been asked for her autograph.
“How does it feel to be famous?” he said, flashing her a smile. She was still in her stewardess uniform. His eyes traveled over the unfeasibly sleek hair, pulled back into a shining bun, not an errant strand in sight, then to her lovely face with its precision makeup. It was all hugely appealing, in that it was crying out to be pulled down, messed up.
“It’s freaking me out, seeing my own mug staring down at me from billboards,” Zara replied.
“That is not a mug, sweetheart. If we’re going for the drinking vessel analogy, allow me to say yours is a cup of the very finest porcelain.” He unfolded his napkin and laid it in his lap, his hand lightly brushing her leg. Her tight skirt had ridden up, and his fingers connected with her black tights. A warm, familiar excitement crept along Harry’s veins.
He looked up at her face, wondering if she was feeling it too, and was disappointed when she shifted her chair slightly away from his.
“Mr. Rose,” she said, “if you weren’t the boss, I’d say that’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever been fed.”
Feisty!
“Cheese. Right. You’d be... perhaps a wholesome cheddar. Tasty but relatable.”
There was no charming blush. Instead she spurted out some of the wine she’d just lifted to her lips.
“And what do you think I would be?” he asked.
“Stilton!” called Terri from across the table. “Moldy and smelly, with visible veins.”
There was a sudden hush. Eyes turned nervously to Harry.
“It was just a fucking joke, guys,” Terri said. “No offense, Harry.”
Not so long ago he would have laughed heartily and found a suitable cheese for Terri. Something laced with listeria, probably. But not today. His leg was aching after a long morning on his feet. Zara Lively, whom he’d personally chosen as the face of Rose Air, was not as expected. Not lively at all. There was no invitation in her feistiness, no answering gleam in her eye.
The silence stretched out, heavy with tension. Terri was still smiling, but there was something in her expression he’d never seen before. A wariness. Trepidation.
“None taken,” he said finally.
•••
Harry let himself in the front door. The faint squawk of the TV reached him from beyond the drawing room door as he hung up his coat and reflected on the day. The launch had gone well, and prospects for the airline were good. And yet he felt a strange disappointment, a sense of anticlimax. He recognized it for what it was. Today, for the first time in his life, he’d felt middle-aged. There had been a noticeable age gap between him and the others around the lunch table. Even the pilot had been ten years younger than him. The only other over-forty had been Terri, and—something else new—her customary pretend hate had held a trace of the real thing. What was going on with Terri?
The house still smelled of paint, although the redecorating was almost finished. He shook off the disquiet.Forget about work.This was what life was all about. Coming home to a loving wife and daughter, domestic tranquility after the cut and thrust of the rat race. So what if Terri had overstepped the mark, and Zara had failed to respond to his charm. Perhaps Zara wasn’t interested in men.
What had he been thinking, anyway? Why could he not simply stay faithful to the woman who loved him, who’d created this lovely home?(Although, while he tried not to judge Janette’s color schemes through Ana’s eyes, he had to admit the results weren’t quite to his taste.)
He went through to the drawing room and wrapped his wife in a hug.
Later, in bed, he couldn’t help thinking about Zara’s impenetrable hair and tight skirt as he thrust into Janette. It didn’t count if it was only in his mind, did it?
Afterward, he rolled off her with a groan.
“Leg?” said Janette, stroking his arm.
“Yep.” He got out of bed. “I’ll just go and—”
“Harry, I was thinking, perhaps we need to look at your medication. It doesn’t seem to be helping much.”
He looked down at her. “You’re wrong. It’s what keeps me going. But it won’t be forever. The physio’s getting me there.”
Back in bed, she snuggled into his arms. “Harry,” she said, “now that the house is all done, I was wondering... well, I’ve always wanted a child.Yourchild, Harry. A brother or sister for Eliza. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
