“I’m not. I simply don’t see any point in spoiling things by rushing. When we’ve spent so much time over this so far, I don’t think waiting another week or two is going to make any difference.”
He was still looking at me. “You’re being shifty, Donald. Is there something I should know? Because if there is, you’d better tell me.”
I tried not to seem evasive. “Of course there isn’t. I just think we should give her a little more time to find her feet, that’s all.”
“Not much point when I’m going to sweep her off them, is there?” His witticism seemed to please him. He gave an exaggerated sigh and shrugged. “But you’re the boss. Your will is my command. I will not fuck Anna tonight. Happy now?”
Relieved, at least. “Yes, thank you.”
“Am I still permitted to actually take her out? Or is that forbidden as well?”
I took a deep breath and plunged. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t.”
It took the wind out of his sails. But only for a moment. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Donald! What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing’s the matter with me. I just—”
“Just what? Do you want to carry on with this, or not? Because if you don’t, say now because I’m not pissing around indefinitely!”
“No one’s asked you to. I’m merely saying that I don’t want you seeing Anna alone at night yet.”
“Why not, for Christ’s sake? She’s a big girl! She’s over eighteen! Are you frightened I’m going to drag her into an alley and rape her, or something?”
“Would you mind keeping your voice down?” I hissed. “She’s only downstairs. And yes, the thought had crossed my mind.”
He sagged back in his chair. “I don’t believe this. Do you really think I’m that desperate? You can’t be—”
“I’m afraid I am. Perhaps you serious won’t actually drag her into an alley, but I’m well aware that one thing can lead to another. Particularly at night, after a few drinks. And I’ve not gone to all this trouble and expense just to have you walk in one morning and tell me it “accidentally” happened the night before. I’ve already told you I want to know before the event, not afterwards.”
Zeppo laughed incredulously. “What would you like, an announcement in The Times?”
“No, just to know when it’s going to happen.”
I waited. If Zeppo pressed further, I would have to tell him the rest. And I was not ready for that just yet. But I was saved by his own malicious brand of humour. He smiled, sadistically superior.
“It? What do you mean by “it”, Donald?”
“You know very well what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do. You’ve got to learn to be more specific. By “it” do you mean when I fuck Anna? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“I’m not trying to say anything. And I’m not going to play juvenile games. You know what I’m talking about.”
He was grinning. I could feel my face beginning to burn. “Why don’t you say “fuck” if that’s what you mean? Or “shag”. Or “screw”, if you’d rather. Of course, if you wanted to be old-fashioned you could always just say “making love”. Not that love has much to do with it very often. But even that’s better than “it”, don’t you think?” His grin was broadening. “Come on, Donald, be a devil. Say what you mean. They’re only words.”
“I’ve already said all I intend to.”
He chuckled. “You really are a prissy bastard, aren’t you? All right, Donald, if it’ll make you happy, I won’t take Anna out after six o’clock without a chaperone.”
He looked condescendingly pleased with himself. But for once I did not mind. His baiting had not upset me half as much as he believed. It had distracted him from what could have been a much more uncomfortable line of questioning, and for that I was grateful.
“If you’re so keen to start seeing her at night, I suggest the three of us could go out somewhere,” I said. Still mellow, Zeppo shrugged.
“Now why was I expecting that? Okay, Donald, if you want to be a gooseberry, that’s up to you. Just name the day.”
“Thursday’s convenient for me. I don’t think Anna’s doing anything then. Is that all right for you?”
“I’ll make a date in my diary. What sort of scintillating evening do you have in mind? How about a nice, racy strip joint? Or would you rather just go clubbing?”
I ignored him. “The Ballet Rambert’s in the West End this week. I think I should still be able to get tickets. You do like Prokofiev, don’t you?”
“Love him to bits. I can’t wait.” Zeppo raised his eyes skyward. “The ballet! Jesus wept!”
After that, I knew I could not put off telling him the rest for much longer. Yet I still avoided it. It was not just cowardice. Now the denouement was almost here, I was no longer in any hurry. The anticipation was almost pleasurable enough in itself. I wanted to savour it for as long as possible. And so I dallied, postponing the inevitable and miserly eking out the last days of Zeppo’s ignorance.
The three of us now began to go out more often. Usually it was only for a drink straight after work Anna seemed glad to put off going home but occasionally we would go to the theatre, or a restaurant, and spend the whole evening together. For me these were the best of times, golden-hued and perfect. I could even, letting myself believe his act, forget my dislike for Zeppo.
Only once was there a sour note. We were in a pub one evening, when someone came up to the table.
“Anna! What are you doing here?”
I looked up at the young man who had spoken. Anna beamed tat him. “Oh, hi, Dave. I might have known I’d find you in here. Liquid dinner again, is it?”
“You’ve no need to talk. I bet that’s not lemonade you’re drinking.”
Anna grinned. “That’s different. I’m here with my boss, so it’s allowed. This is Donald,” I smiled hello. “And Zeppo.” She made no attempt to qualify who Zeppo was.
“Are you still okay for tomorrow night?” the newcomer asked. Anna nodded.
“Eight o’clock. I’ll be there.”
He grinned. “Great. I’ll see you then.” He nodded towards a group at the other side of the pub. “I’d better get back. It’s my round.”
He smiled once more at Zeppo and I, and then left. I sat stiff-backed. I had no idea who he was, but his easy familiarity with Anna hinted at all sorts of intimacies. And she was seeing him the next night. I felt hugely, hotly jealous.
“Friend of yours?” asked Zeppo.
“Well, he’s the boyfriend of a friend of mine,” Anna said. “He’s really nice, but he drinks like a fish. Caroline that’s his girlfriend is cooking a meal tomorrow night, and it’s a dead cert he’ll be out of his head before it’s over. I don’t know how she puts up with it.”
Reassured, I made an effort to be magnanimous. “He seemed pleasant enough.”
“Oh, he is. He still will be when he’s falling over in about two hours time. That’s the only reason he gets away with it.”
Zeppo began to tell us about someone he knew who had a drink problem Zeppo always seemed to have a story for every occasion but I only pretended to listen.
My moment of insecurity had passed, but I remained shaken. The reminder that Anna still had a social life I knew nothing about was a painful one. I told myself that it was unrealistic to expect otherwise, that so long as it did not interfere with our relationship, it did not really matter. But the jealousy lingered. I did not want her seeing anyone except us. I wanted to possess her exclusively.
However, my resentment of her other friends, known and unknown, was short-lived. It could not survive without fuel, and Anna gave me none. I no longer felt that I was merely her employer. Over the next few weeks, the three of us went out together more than ever. I could almost pretend that this happy balance was permanent, and although at the back of my mind I knew it had to end sometime, that there would come a point when I would be an unwanted third party, I came to see this as something that was always reserved for some remote future. The present, where I played an equal part, seemed immutable.