Corduroy Mansions

91. A Flower in the Air Between Two People

The next morning in Barbara Ragg’s office at the Ragg Porter Literary Agency, she said to her colleague, Rupert Porter, ‘I have some news for you, Rupert.’

‘Ah!’ said Rupert. ‘Who’s done a big deal then? Six figures. Dare I say it - seven?’

‘It’s nothing to do with advances,’ said Barbara. ‘It’s to do with me.’

‘Oh, to do with you, is it? Let me guess then. The author of your yeti book has turned up and he’s covered in hair, as I said all along he would be, and you don’t really know whether you can take him out to lunch or not?’

‘Can’t you be serious for two seconds?’

‘Oh, little Miss Gravitas! All right, sorry. Some personal news.’

She waited for a few moments before she told him. ‘I’m engaged.’

He had not expected this, and for a short time he seemed to lose his composure. ‘You?’ he asked in disbelief. And then he realised that that sounded a bit rude, and he followed it with immediate congratulations. ‘Well, you and Oedipus! An MP’s wife!’

She shook her head. ‘Not to Oedipus. He and I haven’t got back together. It’s somebody else.’

‘To the yeti? Is that wise? Such different backgrounds . . .’

‘Very funny. To a young man called Hugh. I haven’t known him all that long, but we became engaged last night.’

Rupert had now recovered sufficiently to congratulate her properly. He stepped forward and embraced her warmly. ‘I’m very pleased to hear this, Barbara. It’s very good news. Tell me about him.’

She realised that had he asked that question only a couple of days ago, she would not have been able to tell him very much. Now she knew a little more but it was still not a great deal.

‘He’s Scottish,’ she said. ‘He’s lived in South America. He’s . . .’

Rupert waited. ‘What does he do?’

‘I’m not too sure.’

Rupert’s expression changed. ‘You’re not sure? How long have you known him?’

‘Not very long,’ said Barbara airily. ‘But I’m sure. I’m absolutely sure.’

Rupert looked down at the floor. He had known Barbara for so long - all his life, in fact - that he almost regarded her as a sister. He had thought Oedipus was a terrible mistake, and he had been pleased to hear that they were no longer together, but was she now about to make another mistake, on a par with, or even exceeding, her Oedipal mistake?

He began nervously. ‘I’m . . . I’m very pleased that you’re happy, Barbara. The only thing is that this is rather . . . well, sudden, wouldn’t you say? You know the old expression - “marry in haste, resent at leisure”.’

‘Actually it’s repent, Rupert, although resent makes sense too. People do resent their partners, don’t they?’ She corrected herself. ‘Not their business partners. Their spouses.’

‘Of course they do - or some do. But the point is: are you sure?’

She smiled serenely. ‘Never more sure.’

Rupert thought for a moment. There was the question of the flat. That was always present, somewhere in the background, and now it came to the fore.

‘Where are you going to live?’ he asked, affecting a nonchalance that was not really there.

‘Why, in London, of course. Hugh seems happy enough here.’

Rupert pursed his lips. ‘I see. But what I meant was, where in London? Has Hugh got a place?’

‘He’s with me at the moment.’

Rupert persisted. ‘But has he got his own place? His own flat?’

‘I don’t think so. He’s a bit younger than me, you know. He hasn’t bought anything yet.’

Rising from her desk, Barbara walked to the window and looked out over the rooftops. The office was on the top floor of a three-storey building in Soho and there was a good view of the neighbouring roofs. Directly opposite, the occupant of an attic flat had opened a window and was putting a small tub of red flowers out onto the roof to expose it to the sun. The flowers were a tiny splash of red against the grey of the roof.

‘I wonder,’ Rupert said. ‘I would have thought that you might need a bit more room. You might move somewhere bigger.’

Barbara turned to look at him. You have this thing about my flat, she thought. You always have had. And my father bought it fair and square from your father, and that’s all there is to it.

‘But my flat is perfectly large enough,’ she said. ‘It has two bedrooms and then a study which could be used as a bedroom if one wanted. And the drawing room is really large too. It’s wonderful for parties.’

Rupert received this badly. His own drawing room was far too small for entertaining and they had never had a party in the house as a result. It would have been different if the flat in Sydney Villa - Barbara’s flat, or the flat she claimed to own - had come to him. They could have entertained on quite a scale then.

Rupert tried again. ‘Well, there may be a case for starting afresh somewhere,’ he said. ‘A lot of people like to set up in a place that is really their own - somewhere they’ve chosen together. Rather romantic!’

Barbara held his gaze. ‘And a lot of people don’t.’

‘Oh well,’ said Rupert. ‘I hope that you’ll be very happy, Barbara. Come, let me give you a kiss.’

He kissed her on the cheek and then went back to his own office. ‘You’ll never guess,’ he said to his wife on the telephone. ‘La Ragg is engaged!’ And then he said, ‘She doesn’t want to move, by the way. She’s installed the toyboy in the flat.’

Rupert’s wife sighed. ‘Oh well. We must take a look at him. I wonder who on earth would have taken her on? The yeti?’

‘I cracked that joke too,’ said Rupert.

Seated behind her desk again, alone in her office, Barbara found it difficult to concentrate on work. There were contracts to peruse but she felt too exhilarated to get down to it. So she closed her eyes and went over in her mind the previous evening with Hugh. The little blue flower by her plate; the care he had lavished on the preparation of the meal; his gentleness and humour; the way he looked at her. Everything. Everything.

She got up from her desk and returned to the window. The man in the attic flat opposite had appeared again. He was gazing at the red flowers he had placed outside on the lead surface of the roof. He yawned and looked across in her direction.

She caught his eye. He was only thirty or forty yards away. He smiled at her. They had seen one another from time to time and had occasionally waved. Now Barbara opened the window and leaned out. The man opposite leaned out too a little way, his hand resting on the edge of his tub of flowers.

‘I love your flowers,’ shouted Barbara.

‘Thanks,’ shouted the man in return.

A gust of wind had blown up and Barbara had to raise her voice to be heard. ‘I’m terribly happy.’

The man made a thumbs-up gesture.

‘I’ve just got engaged,’ Barbara continued.

The man clapped his hands together and then, reaching forward, plucked one of his red flowers and threw it across to her. It was a lovely gesture, even if the flower fell far short of bridging the gap between them and dropped, a tiny Icarus out of the sky, tumbling down to the street below.