‘What are you drinking?’ said Ginny, her breeziness an attempt to hide the awkwardness of the situation.
‘Just a lime and soda,’ said Abby. She could have done with a stiff vodka or two, but she knew she needed to keep her head straight.
‘Yes, the same,’ said Nick cordially.
What are we doing? thought Abby with a sinking feeling. They were already talking like complete strangers after a matter of weeks. She wanted to grab him and yell, ‘It’s me! Your wife!’ But it wasn’t that simple.
‘Ginny told me about your job,’ said Nick, when she had gone to the bar. ‘I called you and left a message. Twice.’
‘To commiserate?’
‘Well it’s pretty shitty. I can’t believe Stephen would do that to you. You keep that place together.’
‘I haven’t lost my job,’ she said with as much dignity as she could manage. ‘I’ve only had my hours cut. Besides, I’m making them up with some freelance work.’
They fell into silence and were saved by Ginny arriving with two glasses, which she put down in front of them.
‘Well, you both know why you’re here. I’ll make myself scarce,’ she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
‘You’re leaving?’ said Abby and Nick simultaneously.
Ginny smiled. ‘See? You still think the same way. No point me getting in the middle of it, is there?’ She reached out and squeezed their hands. ‘For God’s sake, sort something out. You love each other too much to let this get the better of you.’
Abby grabbed her drink and took a gulp, wishing she had gone for the vodka after all.
Ginny handed them both an appointment card.
‘Before I go, you’re booked in here. Dr Naylor. Six thirty on the twenty-fifth. She’s in Clapham, so it’s convenient for both of you.’
‘Who is Dr Naylor?’
‘Nick will explain. Now I have to go.’
They watched her leave, watched her browse the book stalls under the bridge, turning to look back at them before she faded away.
‘Dr Naylor. Is she putting us up for psychiatric evaluation?’
‘She’s a marriage counsellor.’
‘An overqualified one,’ smiled Abby, looking at the long list of initials after her name.
‘Ginny says she’s the best, but I bet she’s just got her name out of the back of Tatler.’
‘Nothing but the best for Ginny,’ Abby replied.
‘So was your trip to St Petersburg the freelance work?’
Abby didn’t doubt that Ginny had told him every single detail she had revealed on the morning she had gone to the airport.
‘Sort of,’ she said, searching his expression for any suspicion. ‘Interest has picked up in the archive after the exhibition the other week. I needed to do some more research on one of the photos.’
‘Did you go on your own?’
‘Yes,’ she said with another stab of guilt. She felt sick at the ease with which the lies started. A little fib at first that snowballed until you didn’t even know the correct version of the truth. A voice in her head pointed out that she had travelled to St Petersburg alone, even if she was met at the airport by the man she had gone on to have sex with three times in one night. But it only made her feel a tiny bit better.
Nick smiled. ‘I have to admit, I had visions of you on a romantic break with Stephen.’
‘Can you imagine?’ she said, laughing nervously.