Walking along the street my legs suddenly went rubbery, and the very idea of hopping on tubes and trains seemed impossible, especially with a fortune in diamonds glittering in my ears, so I decided to stop at Linny’s and call a taxi.

If Tershie wasn’t about I could tell her that Sergei and I had made it up, and if Tershie was about maybe he would have one of his generous impulses and offer to pay for my taxi home with his own generous, if hairy, hands.

But despite feeling as limp as a wet lettuce I was very, very happy and … well, content, and full of anticipation – though I expect that was simply due to the many happy hours I looked forward to spending in a specialist garden centre with carte blanche to buy what I liked.

Twenty-Two

The Butterfly Ball

It had entirely slipped my mind that Linny had told me she was going out with Tertius until I walked into the hall through the half-open front door and found her dressed as a butterfly for a fancy-dress charity ball, which was a big mistake in more ways than one, because pregnant butterflies are thin on the ground, let alone in the air – and how could we ever have mistaken that little round bump for fat?

But Tertius, in a toga, was looking so adoringly at her that I swallowed any sarcastic comments, even when she put her blue-feathered Venetian butterfly mask on and headed out to the taxi that had just arrived to whisk them away and … and …

Blue butterfly mask? Big buxom brunette? It couldn’t possibly be, could it? Could it?

The Penny of Enlightenment might have taken some time to drop, but when it did it ricocheted around the echoing well of my intellect like nobody’s business: Linny’s concern over what Sergei had said about the other woman, her urging us to get back together … even her relief, which I’d thought was for me, when I told her he’d named no lovers in his book!

Lost in my epiphany, I stood on the doorstep looking after them. ‘Et tu, Linny?’ I said, and her feathered face looked back at me over her shoulder in an all at once horribly memorable way … And if this baby has pointy ears, a wicked grin and Slavic cheekbones then she is in big, big trouble with more than just Tertius.

Oh my God!

‘I’ve called you a taxi, Tina,’ Tertius said kindly, emerging from the house. ‘It’ll be here shortly – just pull the door closed after you when you leave, won’t you?’ And with a pat on my shoulder he jumped into the waiting cab and they vanished.

I was still standing there when my taxi arrived, but I did remember to turn and slam the door at the last minute – after the driver pointed it out to me.