Secrets and Half-lies

“Have you missed me?”

“Not one little bit. Where have you been?”

I haven't seen Jessica for a fortnight and I am pleased that she is as bubbly and bouncy as ever.

“I have been on the dry ski slopes in Norwich, learning the basics in preparation for our holiday to Switzerland.”

“Did you enjoy the experience?”

Her answer is predictable:

“The ski instructor is a real dish.”, she says with a giggle, “It will be worthwhile to continue with the course.”

It is good that she mixes with people of her own age. Just because we are related it doesn't mean that we have to live in each other's pocket.

Nevertheless we get on very well.

Right now, slumped in a comfortable armchair, she is looking at me with a kind of questioning look that I have learnt to recognise.

“Well”, she says, “did you see her again?”

“Who?”

“Lottie, of course, after the funeral”.

I find it expedient not to actually lie but answering with a half truth.

“Yes. She invited me to her wedding.”

◊ ◊ ◊

The letter of condolence that Lottie sent me wasn't the only one. We continued to correspond because, in the original letter, she had asked me to keep in touch.

I informed her of my father's demise and of his substantial legacy which enabled me to carry on with my bachelor lifestyle in comfort without the worry of pursuing a career and enough to purchase a house in Belgravia.

From her I heard that she had, reluctantly, accepted a marriage proposal, so that the union would give her father, who owned a chain of hotels throughout Switzerland, the opportunity of a merger or a takeover of a rival business.

She also said that she was coming to London to do some shopping in Harrods in view of the imminent nuptials.

◊ ◊ ◊

I met Lottie at Heathrow and drove her to the Hilton where she checked in then left her to unpack and settle in. We would meet again later to go to the Savoy for dinner.

◊ ◊ ◊

She was the picture of elegance in a long green dress that complemented her Titian-red hair. We were directed to a corner table by the maître d' followed by the admiring glances of our dining companions.

We chose a simple menu: a Waldorf salad for her, foie gras for me followed by lobster thermidor for both of us and a bottle of Muscadet.

We spoke at length of the latest developments over a cup of coffee and I listened sympathetically to her grievance about having to get wed against her will. I whispered soothing words hoping that they would have a calming influence.

When I accompanied her back to the hotel she surprised me by declaring defiantly that she was determined to enjoy every second of her remaining freedom.

“Starting from now. Would you like to come up to my room for a nightcap?”

© Luigi Pagano 2020

Previous episodes:

1) https://www.abctales.com/story/luigipagano/tense-situation
2) https://www.abctales.com/story/luigipagano/treading-boards
3) https://www.abctales.com/story/luigipagano/swiss-finishing-school