The Three Button Trick: Selected stories. Nicola Barker

      ‘Yeah.’

      ‘She didn’t mention it.’

      ‘No?’

      Jack was actually relieved. He’d been worried in case Sydney might have blotted his copybook with Carrie by suggesting things about him, by exaggerating or maligning. Sydney could bitch with the best when she felt the urge. She was dangerous.

      ‘Let me tell you something,’ Jack said, leaning his back up against one of the kitchen cupboards.

      ‘What?’ Carrie was wide eyed and restless. What had Sydney said? Had she been indiscreet? Had she mentioned Heinz?

      ‘I know what’s been going on,’ Jack said, ‘and I’m here to tell you that I don’t care. I’ve given it some thought …’

      ‘What do you know?’

      ‘About you and Sydney.’

      ‘What about us?’

      He put out both his hands. ‘Just tell me,’ he said, ‘that it’s over. Because my suitcase,’ he couldn’t hide his smile, ‘my suitcase, darling, is lying packed in the boot of my car.’

      

      ‘I’ll tell you something else,’ Sydney said, lounging on Heinz’s sofa and drinking her fourth martini.

      ‘What?’

      Heinz was sitting on his comfy chair sipping a cup of tea.

      ‘I went and saw Jack the other day, right? A private tête à tête, and he came into the café where we’d arranged to meet with the buttons on his coat done up all …’ Sydney made a higgledy-piggledy movement with her hands, ‘like so …’

      ‘He’s missing her?’ Heinz interjected, almost sympathetic.

      ‘No. Not at all. That’s my point. It’s the three button trick.’

      ‘The what?’

      ‘Men do it. Some men. To make them look …’ she burped, ‘vul-ner-a-ble. And this is the best bit …’ She put her hand over her mouth. ‘Pardon me.’

      ‘The best bit?’

      ‘Yeah. Turns out, he only pulled that trick the very first time he ever spoke to Carrie. 1972. Outside the National Portrait Gallery. Took her in completely. Beguiled her, absolutely. And there he was, large as life, trying it on with me!’

      ‘Did you tell her?’

      Sydney knocked back the rest of her drink. ‘Who?’

      ‘Carrie.’

      ‘Nope. Seemed a shame.’

      Heinz nodded.

      ‘Nice flat,’ Sydney said, looking around her.

      ‘It suits me well enough.’

      ‘Come and sit over here.’ Sydney patted the sofa to her left. ‘Come on.’

      Heinz smiled. ‘I am perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you.’

      Sydney stared at him, balefully. ‘What’s wrong?’

      Outside the sound of a faint car horn was just audible.

      ‘Nothing is wrong,’ Heinz said, pushing his great bulk up from his comfy chair and walking over to the window. While his back was turned, Sydney unbuttoned the grey silk shirt she was wearing and took it off. Heinz turned and said, ‘I think that’s your cab.’