‘You’d better get back. For the moment there’s no point in let ing him know I’m in this. I’ll drop in tomorrow night. I might be a little late; about half-past twelve. Leave the shade down if he’s there.’
‘He won’t be. He’s going out to dinner. Can’t you come earlier, Adam? I’ll be alone from eight o’clock.’
Immediately he became shifty.
‘I don’t know if I can. I’l try. I might get round by nine. Yes, I think I could manage nine.’
Again she knew he was lying, but she hid her knowledge from him. It would be stupid and dangerous to warn him that his lies were so transparent to her. So long as he wasn’t on his guard, she knew she could spot his lies, but if he took more trouble to deceive her, he might succeed. She told herself that one day he might tell her a serious lie; a lie that might affect them both. It was this lie she knew she had to recognise when it came.
‘Al right, darling,’ she said, trying to make her voice sound gay. ‘Then, if I don’t see you at nine, I’ll expect you at half-past twelve.’
‘You’l see me at nine,’ he said, deciding that half-past twelve was quite early enough. He had no wish to sit with her all the evening. There were times when she bored him to distraction. She would be so serious all the time: she would fuss over him.
She opened the car door.
‘Oh, Eve…’
Holding the door half open, she glanced quickly at him. She knew what was coming: every parting of theirs had this sordid little postscript.