Greyglass, Tanith Lee [general ebook reader .txt] 📗

paint box, which seemed to have all the colours in the world, even turquoise mauve for the eyes.

Anne drank another couple of vodkas as Susan struggled to get through her single. Then Anne stopped drinking.

“I have to go down to Brighton tomorrow. Something Wizz asked me to drop off to a business colleague. Wizz wants me to meet this man, his wife – charm them, Wizz said. They have a big house, Tudor, I think Wizz said. I’d ask you to come, but they might think it was a bit much, two of us turning up.”

“That’s okay. I should go into college tomorrow.”

“All right. But I’m only here six days. When I get back Wednesday, come up and stay. I’ll book you into the hotel, yes?”

“Yes, yes great.”

“It’s so strange,” Anne said, “seeing you. You know I’m hardly a possessive mother. But you’re not mine now. You’re your own person.”

“Am I?”

“I’m impressed with you, Susan,” Anne said. “The way you stuck to your guns. I mean, about staying here. Getting on, on your own.”

A desolate wave rolled in through Susan, and retreated, leaving unidentifiable sticky flotsam behind on her inner skin.

“This house I have to get to is at some place called Rothsdean. No, it isn’t Tudor. I can’t remember what Wizz said it was.”

Abruptly Anne’s perfectly managed face changed. It seemed to loosen, and sag a little on the firm bones.

“I’ll tell you. I wasn’t going to. We had a bit of a fight, Wizz and I. One of the reasons he sent me over, to make up for what happened. I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

Susan didn’t know what she was expected to say, or feel. Did the idea of Anne and Wizz falling out aggravate or please her? Not please. It wouldn’t have – it hadn’t – lasted. Was anyway – too late.

“We’re over it all now. That was in June. He had a little fling, shall I euphemise. You’re slow, Susan. I mean he was screwing someone else.”

“– oh.”

“Yes. Oh yes. I found out because the damn girl wouldn’t let it go. Kept calling him up at the loft. I said to him, Who is this bimbette called – would you believe it – Madison, who keeps calling you? He said, She’s from the office. She’s dumb, forgets stuff all the time, calls me to ask me. Then one afternoon I came back with Eve, and there was this Madison, standing downstairs, and she said to me, I have to see Wizz. And Eve went scarlet. And, well, I figured it out finally. The little dope made a scene, then I told her what I thought of her. Then Eve took her outside and shooed her away. I don’t know what Eve said, but it was effective. And when he came back that evening I tackled him.”

Susan sat gazing at Anne. Had she ever heard Anne so voluble?

Anne said, “He admitted it. Straight off. He said he was sick of her, couldn’t get rid of her, had been trying. It just happened one time he was away alone and she was a stand in for his regular assistant, Chloe. I guess Madison made all the running. Do you know, this Madison was the ugliest little bitch I’ve ever seen. She had bushy black coarse hair, all over the place, and little girl shoes. Skinny. I mean so thin you could snap her in half. And glasses, let’s not forget those. She is blind without them, I gather. But she was kind of young, you know,” said Anne heavily. “Only about twenty-five. I couldn’t miss that. I said to him, If you want younger women, let’s call it quits, Wizz. And – he started to cry. Well, we made it up. It’s okay now. Really, it’s okay now. And we went to Bermuda for a while. And then he said, let’s get the apartment done, fresh start, and he said, You go and see that girl of yours. Tell her to come over. And he bought me this ring. Did you notice the ring?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s vulgar,” said Anne. “Or it would be, if it weren’t an emerald. He was talking about diamonds, but I said I am not Liz Taylor, Wizz. You note, the finger. I never wanted to marry. That wasn’t the deal.”

By the time they left the hotel it was late to shop. They wormed in and out of boutiques tucked in among white pillars, then ended up after all in the park, watching ducks and having cups of tea at a plastic table.

“I miss this,” said Anne. “That exact wet green in the water. Just that shade. It isn’t ever like that, there. I don’t know why. I’m crazy. It’s just me. Wizz says England is like a back garden, and the States is the real world.”

This is my mother, Susan thought.

Really, this is Anne.

Then the ducks did something quaint and spontaneously they both laughed and for a second it was the past, on-going uninterrupted time that had never shifted, and then they stopped laughing, and it was gone again now, and different, not the old Susan and Anne, but the new Susan and Anne, with Wizz and the Atlantic still between them.

When Anne didn’t ring on Wednesday, Susan thought she was undoubtedly at last tired, after the journey to and from Brighton performing Wizz’s errand, on top of the flight. Thursday came and began to go. Susan phoned the hotel. “Ms Wilde? Yes, she’s due back Saturday.”

Saturday was the set day for Anne’s departure.

Susan thought there must be some mistake, and resumed waiting for Anne to ring her. Was she worried? She told herself she wasn’t. But even so the little gnawing knot in her stomach that kept her from college, and haunting the downstairs hall for the phone, did not make her feel anything for Anne – but a little gnawing knot.

On Friday morning Anne called.

“Susan, I am so sorry. No, I’m still at Rothsdean. It’s been an experience. Oh, I wish I’d