No tantrums, no whining, no bickering. Just good food and good company. The height of luxury. Diane was a foodie, she loved to eat and had the figure to prove it. Big. And was happy to flaunt it. She dressed adventurously and spent a small fortune on haircuts; her current one was a blue-black urchin look.
She’d set out the table in the middle of her studio-cum-living room. The place was chaotic; canvases, paints and inks, screens, sewing machine, headless dressmaker’s dummy, PC, telly in the corner, couch. She lived and worked downstairs and slept upstairs. After twelve years the neighbours had got used to the harmless eccentric in their midst. A couple of them had even commissioned small pieces from her for birthday presents.
‘Sit down,’ she said after I’d handed her the bottle I’d brought. ‘It’s ready.’
We exchanged news and gossip as we demolished a plate of cracked olives, tomato and basil salad and hunks of sesame seed bread. But she saved up the best titbit till we’d wiped the plates clean.
‘I’ve had a date,’ she announced.
‘When? Why didn’t you tell me? Who?’ I was all indignation.
‘A soulmate.’
‘What?’
‘In the Guardian, lonely hearts?’ she smiled.
‘What was he like?’
Her smile faded. “Orrible,’ she sighed, ‘we went for a pizza in town, then to the pictures.’ She made it sound like a trip to the dentist. ‘He’s a teacher, recently divorced, three kids. Oh Sal, it was awful. He was obviously depressed and looking for someone to save him.’
‘Couldn’t you tell, from the ad?’
‘No, or I wouldn’t have gone. It was one of these where you ring them up, listen to a message. He sounded quite perky.’
‘Perky?’ I pulled a face.
‘Well, you know, lively. I left a message and I made it clear, I really did, that I wasn’t looking for anything deep and meaningful, right? Just a bit of pleasant company, no big deal, nothing serious. OK. He rings me up, makes a date. I get there. He wants another wife, virtually said so, probably wants another three kids and all.’ She shuddered. Diane had made her mind up in her early twenties that motherhood was not for her. She’s never wavered from that belief. ‘In fact,’ she scooped the plates up, ‘I reckon he wants the wife he had before, the kids, the lot. Oh, it was miserable.’ She took the plates through to the kitchen.
