Investment Analysismagazine has a whole team of designers working on it, but Pensions Bulletin is just a two-page newsletter, so that question had to be taken out completely, along with all the questions on individual writers and columns. By the time I had a questionnaire that actually seemed to refer to Pensions Bulletin it was nearly seven-thirty. Even Nigel looked like he wanted to go home, but he stayed as long as I did. And then, as we were walking out, he said,

“Thanks for your work on the merger situation. It has been resolved, as I believe Guy has already informed you. I believe that in the circumstances it would be beneficial for the organization if the subject and events surrounding it were not mentioned again.” And that was that.

I look around the kitchen for something to eat. With all these impromptu dinner invitations and trips to Rome I haven’t done any shopping for ages and all I can find is toast. Still, it’s something. I was hoping to see David tonight, but he’s working late.

I put on the television and sit with a cup of tea and hot buttered toast watching “EastEnders.”

Pat’s looking a bit worse for wear, but I can really sympathize. I mean, life can be quite exhausting sometimes.

Just as the credits start to roll, the phone rings. I lean over to see the caller ID, half hoping it’s David, but it’s Candy. I could leave it to ring, I think. I mean, I could easily be out. And I really don’t have the energy to talk to Candy. But then again she is David’s friend. And I don’t want to be rude.

“Hello?”

“Georgie?” Who else does she think it’s going to be?

“Yes. Candy?”

“Oh thank God you’re in.”

“Candy, are you okay?”

She sounds dreadful, like she’s been crying.

“Oh yes, oh, everything’s fine. Just, you know, ringing to see how you are.”

“Oh I’m fine. Really fine.”

“How’s everything with David?”

“Oh, fine. We’re fine,” I say wearily, unable to think of anything else to say. Then I hear a muffled sob.

“Candy, what’s wrong?”

She sniffs. “Nothing.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Georgie, remember when you said that Mike was calling you and stuff, and that you thought he wanted you back? You didn’t mean it, did you? I mean, he wasn’t really asking you out and stuff, was he?”

I pause. On the one hand, I would still love to tell Candy just how much Mike wanted me back.

She was always so dismissing of our relationship, so convinced that Mike would leave me, and I want to be able to tell her that the only reason he left me was because he didn’t feel good enough. But on the other hand, I can’t risk it. Candy might get it into her head to tell David and that could be disastrous. No, I’m going to have to swallow my pride and pretend that I totally misread the Mike thing. For the second time.

“No, not really. We just saw each other once and, well, nothing really. No, nothing going on there.”

“Oh I’m so relieved. I was so worried.”

“Worried? Candy, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“What, you’re worried about David? Look Candy, I love David. I would never do anything to hurt him, you know that.” I blush as I speak. Wouldn’t do anything apart from going on holiday with his worst enemy. Stealing disks from his coat pocket. You know, nothingreally bad.

“It’s not David I’m worried about either,” Candy says, sniffing again.

“Surely you’re not worried about Mike?” It suddenly occurs to me that Candy must know about the whole David–Mike thing. Didn’t Mike say that Candy was the one who had told David how well Mike’s business was doing? Maybe David has also confided in her?

“So what’s the matter then?”

“I’m worried about me. Me and Mike.”

Candy and Mike. What on earth is she talking about?

“Candy, what are you talking about?” I say sharply. Honestly, I’ve been dealing with dodgy mergers and jealous boyfriends, and all Candy is worried about is her friendship with Mike!

“Georgie, don’t you know that Mike’s the father of my baby?” Candy says very softly.

“Sorry, Candy, I think I missed that. I thought you said that Mike is the father of your baby . . .”

Candy is silent for a while. “We’re getting married just as soon as we can,” she continues slowly. “He’s going to meet my parents and everything. Only he’s been acting oddly for the past few weeks and hasn’t come home quite a few nights, and I think he might be having an affair.”

Mike and Candy. I feel like I’ve been winded. Mike and Candy. How? When?

“Candy, what do you mean? Are you serious? Is this your idea of a joke, because if so it really isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Candy is hardly audible.

“But . . . how long? I mean how long have you two . . .”

“Two years.”

Two years. So that means . . . But that’s impossible. That’s when Mike left me for the . . . Oh my God. Candy is the stick insect.

“You . . . you . . .” I am at a loss for words. I am beyond words. All those times she’d told me to leave him, to give him up, she’d wanted him for herself.

“How could you do that to me? I thought you were my friend.”

I’m having problems remembering to breathe in and out. All this time I thought Mike left me for some bimbo, and it was Candy. Candy whose shoulder I used to cry on—or lean on anyway.

She’d get me off before I started crying in case I smeared whatever she was wearing.

“Georgie, you wouldn’t understand. I love Mike. I always have. We were meant to be getting together that night you met him—I had the bloody dinner party so I could seduce him. You stole him, and I just took him back, that’s all. And now we’re going to get married and we’re going to be really happy. I just . . . I just don’t know where he is right now . . .” Candy starts sobbing down the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I’m playing for time. I’m not ready to decide how I feel about all this yet.

“David said not to. He didn’t want you to be upset. He’s never really forgiven Mike for what he did to you, and when he found out I was pregnant, he got really funny. Kept asking if it was definitely Mike’s and stuff. Anyway, he made me promise not to tell you until he’d spoken to you himself. But I thought you might be . . . I thought Mike might be having an affair with you.”

So Davidknew ? Was he trying to protect me, or was he just pissed off because his plans for Mike would now affect Candy, too? I try desperately to organize my thoughts. So, Mike ran off with Candy. Well, that doesn’t sound like the “fling” he told me about. He also told me that he left me because I was too successful and he wanted to prove himself. And I’m supposed to think that Candy, with her great job and flat in Notting Hill isless successful than me? Less intimidating? The total and utter lying bastard. It was all a complete load of bollocks to convince me to help him out. And I fell for it. I actually believed him.

“Candy, I’m sure Mike isn’t having an affair,” I manage to say eventually. “Why don’t you talk to him later?”

“That’s the point. I don’t know if there’s going to be a later. I’ve been looking through his wardrobe and half his clothes are gone.”

Gone?

“Are you at his flat now?” There’s a pause.

“His flat? He doesn’t have a flat. He lives with me.”

“But what about his flat in St. John’s Wood?”

“Georgie, what are you talking about,” says Candy, sounding exasperated. “Why would Mike have a flat in St. John’s Wood? He lives in my flat in Notting Hill.”

Why would he indeed? Something tells me not to press the point on the flat. If Candy doesn’t know about it, there’s probably a good reason for it. And I’m not sure Candy is in any state to find out about it from me.

“Sorry Candy, I thought he said something about having a flat. I must have made a mistake.

Look, I’m sure everything’s fine. Why would Mike have an affair?”

“I know, you’re right,” says Candy, her voice still breaking up every so often. “It’s just that he’s out all the time at the moment, and today there was a message on our phone confirming his flight to Malaga tomorrow, and he hasn’t said anything about us going on holiday. And anyway, he’s meant to be coming down to Hampshire this weekend to see Mummy and Daddy. To talk about the wedding and stuff. And Daddy keeps asking me about his stupid business and about his money and . . .” she breaks into sobs again.

“His money?”

“His investments. He’s one of the investors in Mike’s company.”

Of course he is. All Mike’s talk about how difficult it was to raise the money. How could I have believed that he’d be capable of getting investment on his own?

Much as I hate Candy for lying to me, I can’t help feeling sorry for her. And to be honest, I’m almost relieved that she and Mike are together. It means that our little trip to Rome is unlikely ever to get out—Mike would have too much to lose.

“Candy, I’m sure it’s a business trip, or they’ve got the dates wrong or something. Look, everything will be fine.” I want to end this conversation now. I can’t take in any more information, can’t issue any more platitudes.

“Georgie?”

“Yes?”

“You promise nothing happened between you and Mike?”

I pause. I could tell her that Mike was all over me like a rash, that her scheming to get him off me in the first place has backfired. But it wouldn’t make either of us feel much better.

“God no, nothing. We met for a couple of drinks, that’s all. Actually, we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, look, I’ve got to go now. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” I hang up, take the phone off the hook, and lie back down on the sofa. Poor stupid Candy. And poor stupid me.