Suddenly, it sounded absolutely fabulous. ‘Oh God, yes,’ I said with mounting excitement. ‘Look, they’ve got an indoor pool. We can lie around sipping cocktails and looking sophisticated.’
‘Well, I can,’ said Kal. ‘One sniff of the glass and you’ll be unconscious; but it’s a good thought. And here’s another; let’s ask Helen if she wants to come.’
‘OK. Here she is now. Ask her.’
‘Ask her what?’ said Helen, seating herself alongside. We showed her the article. Surprisingly, she was enthusiastic. ‘Count me in. I’m sick of this place. And you two must go. Given your occupation, I’m aware of the irony, but the pair of you should definitely get out more.’
‘I have to go; the Professor wants me,’ said Kal. ‘I’ll book it this afternoon and let you know.’ She exchanged a glance with Helen. ‘Separate rooms?’
‘I’m not sleeping with either of you two,’ said Helen. ‘You both snore and Max makes funny whiffly noises as well.’
‘I do not!’ I cried, indignant.
‘You do,’ they said in unison and exchanged another look. ‘Separate rooms.’ Was something happening here? I don’t snore that badly; although the bit about the whiffly noises might be true. I’m told they’re hilarious.
They pushed off together and I sat sipping my second cup and savouring the pleasure of not thinking about the Cretaceous for a moment.
I looked up and saw Izzie Barclay pulling out a chair at the next table. ‘Hey, Izzie, how are you?’
I got the pained look she always gave when people didn’t call her Miss Barclay, or (more laughably) ma’am.
‘I’m very well, thank you,’ she said crisply and began to spread her toast. Low fat spread. No marmalade. It figured. That was why she was thin and I wasn’t. Or would ever be. On the other hand, who eats toast without butter or marmalade? No wonder she was such a misery. I had a sudden thought and looked at her. We should invite her too. It would be a nice thing to do. She must be lonely. Nobody liked her much. She looked up from her toast.
‘What?’
I took a breath, ‘Izzie …’
Mrs Partridge appeared abruptly at my shoulder, clutching an armful of papers. ‘Miss Maxwell, Dr Bairstow would like to see you at once.’
‘Two minutes,’ I said.
‘No, I’m sorry, now please.’
I sighed and got up. ‘I’ll be back,’ I said to Barclay and followed Mrs Partridge upstairs. It took longer than I expected and unsurprisingly she’d gone when I got back. I set off to Hawking after her, but got distracted by something and it went out of my head. If it hadn’t, if I’d asked her, if she’d come, how much would have been different?
Chapter Seven
On the Saturday morning I packed a bag and met Kal and Helen outside. We wanted to slip away as discreetly as possible, having no desire to explain our plans to anyone. We tussled briefly over whose car to take and eventually settled on Helen’s.
Determined to get our money’s worth, we made full use of all the facilities, including the hairdresser. I let them cut my hair. Not short, obviously, but an amazing amount lay on the floor when they’d finished. And it looked so much better, sleek and shiny and giving the impression I could control it. Yes, like that was ever going to happen. Monday morning and it was back in the sock bun – like it or not.
Back in my room, I dressed slowly – impractical but pretty underwear, an oriental style gold and black tight-fitting dress and my precious butterfly shoes. They were actually the only girlie shoes I owned. I’d bought them on a rare shopping trip in Rushford, years ago, shortly after I came to St Mary’s, just to remind myself I was a girl. I loved them and rarely got the opportunity to wear them. Tonight, however, the shoes and I were hitting the town! They seemed quite excited.
I put on a little make-up and it looked OK, but everyone knows that if a little is good then more must be even better, so I added more. In my defence, I can only say I would be making an entrance with two tall, slim women, each in their own way quite stunning and the odds were that no one would notice me anyway. Kal was going for her snow princess look in glittering white and silver with Helen doing dominatrix in severely cut dark red.
‘Bloody hell,’ we all said, looking at each other.
I’ve got to say, our entrance was a triumph. Just for once, when the conversation paused briefly, it was for all the right reasons. We were escorted to our table by the head waiter himself, who ruthlessly elbowed his subordinates aside for the privilege.
The table was laid for six.
‘This is the wrong table,’ I said. ‘This is for six people.’
I’m not bright.
Kal perused the wine menu and ignored me.
Helen looked round the room and ignored me.
‘Guys,’ I said, but someone put a margarita in front of me, so I didn’t care any more; it was a good table, right up front, so I just sat back and was grateful.