“Fair enough.”
“And on Friday I always do my hair.”
“Pathetic.”
“I know! But by the time I’d thought about it, he was no longer on the line.”
“Pathetic,” Jenny repeated.
“And worse, Dad rang the next day to say something had come up and he had to fly to Bombay, and would I like the tickets. Fonteyn in Swan Lake. Can I tempt you, Jenny?”
“You bet. But I’m not going with you, because you are going to call Sebastian, tell him your father can’t make it and ask him if he’d like to join you.”
“I can’t do that,” said Priya. “I couldn’t possibly phone a man and ask him out.”
“Priya, it’s 1971. It’s no longer frowned upon for a woman to ask a man out.”
“It is in India.”
“But we’re not in India, just in case you hadn’t noticed. And what’s more, you phone men all the time.”
“No, I do not.”
“Yes you do. It’s part of your job, and you’re rather good at it.”
“That’s different.”
“So it would be all right to call Sebastian and discuss the drop in interest rates, but not to invite him to the ballet.”
“Perhaps he’ll call me again.”
“And perhaps he won’t.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to see Fonteyn?”
“Of course I do. And if you give me the tickets I’ll phone Sebastian and ask him if he’d like to be my date.”
* * *
“There’s a Jenny Barton on line one, Mr. Clifton.”
“Jenny Barton, Jenny Barton … Doesn’t ring a bell. Did she say which company she’s from?”
“No, she said it was a personal matter.”
“I can’t place her, but I suppose you’d better put her through.”
“Good morning, Mr. Clifton. You don’t know me, but I share a flat with Priya Ghuman.” Seb nearly dropped the phone. “You rang Priya yesterday and invited her to dinner.”
“And lunch, and the theatre, all of which she turned down.”
“Which she now regrets, so if you were to call her again, I think you’ll find she might be free on Wednesday night after all.”
“Thank you, Miss Barton,” said Seb. “But why didn’t she call herself?”
“You may well ask. Because after what she told me about you, I certainly wouldn’t have turned you down.” The line went dead.
* * *