‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. . How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. That’s my point. I’m glad I did. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. Even Lucy’s bra and panties, the ubiquitous polyester underwire and matching cotton bikini briefs from Kmart, were gone. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. ‘She’s gone.
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