London Match

'I believe she will be bringing a cake.'

'Auntie Tessa brings the best cakes,' said Sally. 'She gets them from a shop near Harrods.'

'That's because Auntie Tessa is very rich,' said Billy. 'She has a Rolls-Royce.'

'She comes here in a Volkswagen,' said Sally.

'That's because she doesn't want to be flash,' said Billy. 'I heard her say that on the phone once.'

'I think she's very flash,' said Sally in a voice heavy with admiration. 'Couldn't Auntie Tessa be your girlfriend. Daddy?'

'Auntie Tessa is married to Uncle George,' I said before things got out of hand.

'But Auntie Tessa isn't faithful to him,' Sally told Billy. Before I could contradict this uncontradictable fact, Sally after a glance at me added, 'I heard Daddy tell Mummy that one day when I shouldn't have been listening.'

'What kind of cake will she bring?' said Billy.

'Will she bring chocolate layer cake?' said Sally.

'I like rum babas best,' said Billy. 'Especially when they have lots of rum on them.'

They were still discussing their favourite cakes – a discussion that can go on for a very long time – when the doorbell rang.

Gloria Zsuzsa Kent was a tall and very beautiful blonde, whose twentieth birthday was soon approaching. She was what the service called an 'Executive Officer' which meant in theory that she could be promoted to Director-General. Armed with good marks from school and fluent Hungarian learned from her parents, she joined the Department on the vague promise of being given paid leave to go to university. It probably seemed like a good idea at the time. Dicky Cruyer had got his Army service – and Bret his studies at Oxford – credited towards promotion. Now financial cutbacks made it look as if she was stuck with nothing beyond a second-rate office job.

She took off her expensive fur-lined suede coat and the children gave whoops of joy on discovering that she'd brought the rum babas and chocolate layer cake that were their favourites.

'You're a mind reader,' I said. I kissed her. Under the children's gaze I made sure it was no more than the sort of peck you get along with the Legion of Honour.

She smiled as the children gave her a kiss of thanks before they went off to set the table for tea. 'I adore your children, Bernard.'

'You chose their favourite cakes,' I said.

'I have two young sisters. I know what children like.'

She sat down near the fire and warmed her hands. Already the afternoon light was fading and the room was dark. There was just a rim of daylight on her straw-coloured hair and the red glow of the fire's light on her hands and face.

Nanny came in and exchanged amiably noisy greetings with Gloria. They had spoken on the phone several times and the similarity in their ages gave them enough in common to alky my fears about Nanny's reaction to the news that I had a 'girlfriend'.

To me Nanny said, 'The children want to make toast by the fire in here, but I can easily do it in the toaster.'

'Let's all sit by the fire and have tea,' I said.

Nanny looked at me and said nothing.

'What's wrong, Nanny?'

'It would be better if we eat in the kitchen. The children will make a lot of crumbs and mess on the carpets and Mrs Dias won't come in again to clean until Tuesday.'

'You're a fusspot, Nanny,' I said.

'I'll tidy up, Doris,' Gloria told Nanny. Doris! Good grief, those two were getting along too nicely!

'And Mr Samson,' said Nanny tentatively. 'The children were invited to spend the evening with one of Billy's school friends. The Dubois family. They live near Swiss Cottage. I promised to phone them before five.'

'Sure, that's okay. If the children want to go. Are you going too?'

'Yes, I'd like to. They have Singin' in the Rain on video, and they'll serve soup and a snack meal afterwards. Other children will be there. We'd be back rather late, but the children could sleep late tomorrow.'

'Well, drive carefully, Nanny. The town's full of drunk drivers on a Saturday night.'

I heard cheers from the kitchen when Nanny went back and announced my decision. And tea was a delight. The children recited 'If for Gloria, and Billy did three new magic tricks he'd been practising for the school Christmas concert.

'As I remember it,' I said, 'I'd promised to take you to the Greek restaurant for dinner, have a drink or two at Les Ambassadeurs, and then drive you home to your parents.'

'This is better,' she said. We were in bed. I said nothing. 'It is better, isn't it?' she asked anxiously.

I kissed her. 'It's madness and you know it.'

'Nanny and the children won't be back for hours.'

'I mean you and me. When will you realize that I'm twenty years older than you are?'

'I love you and you love me.'

'I didn't say I loved you,' I said.

She pulled a face. She resented the fact that I wouldn't say I loved her, but I was adamant; she was so young that I felt I was taking advantage of her. It was absurd, but refusing to tell her that I loved her enabled me to hang onto a last shred of self-respect.

'It doesn't matter,' she said. She pulled the bedclothes over our heads to make a tent. 'I know you love me, but you don't want to admit it.'

'Do your parents suspect that we're having an affair?'

'Are you still frightened that my father will come after you?'

'You're damned right I am.'

'I'm a grown woman,' she said. The more I tried to explain my feelings to her, the more amused she always got. She laughed and snuggled down in the bed, pressing against me.

'You're only ten years older than little Sally.'

She grew tired of the tent game and threw the bedclothes back. 'Your daughter is eight. Apart from the inaccurate mathematics of that allegation, you'll have to come to terms with the fact that when your lovely daughter is ten years older she will be a grown woman too. Much sooner than that, in fact. You're an old fogy, Bernard.'

'I have Dicky telling me that I'm fat and flabby and you telling me that I'm an old fogy. It's enough to crush a man's ego.'

'Not an ego like yours, darling.'

'Come here,' I said. I hugged her tight and kissed her.

The truth was that I was falling in love with her. I thought of her too much; soon everyone at the office would guess what was between us. Worse, I was becoming frightened at the prospect of this impossible affair coming to an end. And that, I suppose, is love.

'I've been filing for Dicky all week.'

'I know, and I'm jealous.'

'Dicky is such an idiot,' she said for no apparent reason. 'I used to think he was so clever, but he's such a fool.' She was amused and scornful, but I didn't miss the element of affection in her voice. Dicky seemed to bring out the maternal instinct in all women, even in his wife.

'You're telling me. I work for him.'

'Did you ever think of getting out of the Department, Bernard?'

'Over and over again. But what would I do?'

'You could do almost anything,' she said with the adoring intensity and the sincere belief that are the marks of those who are very young.

'I'm forty,' I said. 'Companies don't want promising "young" men of forty. They don't fit into the pension scheme and they're too old to be infant prodigies.'

'I shall get out soon,' she said. 'Those bastards will never give me paid leave to go to Cambridge, and if I don't go up next year I'm not sure when I'll get another place.'

'Have they told you they won't give you paid leave?'

'They asked me if unpaid leave would suit me just as well. Morgan, actually; that little Welsh shit who does all the dirty work for the D-G's office.'

'What did you say?'

'I told him to get stuffed.'

'In those very words?'

'No point in beating about the bush, is there?'

'None at all, darling,' I said.

'I can't stand Morgan,' she said. 'And he's no friend of yours either.'