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“Richard and I were both working from home but even with the five-kilometre restriction, he was able to meet work colleagues from time to time. One day, he was looking frazzled. I’d never seen him like that before, so I asked him what was wrong. He said that he had seen his boss, Bill, in a compromising position the night before and didn’t know what to do about it. I asked him what was ‘compromising’, and what was the position (here, they both delicately smirked), but he said he’d tell me in a few days.”
At this point, the large group of women left their corner of the café and passed by. Really, they were so noisy! Didn’t they remember that in this particularly elegant café, one was meant to partake of quiet conversation, not hilarity or jollity of any sort?
When the room was restored to its customary tranquillity, Helen leaned in even closer and lowered her voice.
“By the end of the week, I was dying to know more, but Richard still kept mum. Perhaps if his boss found out Richard knew whatever it was that he did know, Richard would lose his job. Maybe it was so sordid that Richard – you know what a puritanical set of morals he has – would feel compelled to leave. We really can’t afford for Richard to stop work now – he’s only fifty-five – and he’s too highly qualified to get another job at his age. So, I had to know!”
Barbara had been uttering small inarticulate ejaculations of consolation during this. They now developed into, “My dear, how distressing! Did you ever find out what was bothering him?”
“Well …” but Helen halted abruptly as Sheila advanced with the teacups, milk, sugar and petit fours. Waiting not so very patiently until Sheila had placed all the items on the small cosy table and was hailed by another circle of women demanding tea, coffee and sandwiches, Barbara inclined her ear as Helen continued.
