Hughie loitered.
After a while Henry came down. ‘Are you waiting for me?’
‘Sort of. Thought I might pick up a few more tips.’
Henry put an arm around his shoulders. ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one day?’
They walked on through the narrow street.
‘I don’t know. It was kind of fun the other night, you know, at Claridge’s. Didn’t you think so?’ He enjoyed having Henry show him things; working together as a team.
‘You did very well.’ Then he stopped, his face serious. ‘The truth is, Hughie, Valentine has asked me to speak to you. We need your absolute assurance that you’ve finished with this girl of yours, Leticia.’
‘Oh.’ Hughie felt the walls closing in on him. ‘Well, the thing is … I thought perhaps I should let her down gently.’
Henry shook his head. ‘Not good enough, old man. It’s got to be done. Otherwise you’re out. Bit of a make-or-break situation, you see.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Hughie stared at his shiny new shoes. ‘I’m due to see her tonight. At the Victoria bus depot.’
‘Really?’
‘She’s … you know,’ Hughie flushed, ‘fond of public places.’
‘Oh. Yes,’ Henry considered. ‘I can see how she’d be a tough one to give up. What time are you due?’
Hughie checked his watch. ‘Actually, I’m late!’
‘Right.’ Henry flagged down a cab, smiling grimly at Hughie. ‘Best done quickly, son. Like chopping off a leg. Come on. And I’ll get you good and pissed after.’
Over the years Leticia had developed a strict protocol to deal with break-ups; she practised swift and humane methods, not unlike a kosher butcher.
First, break-ups needed to be staged in bland, neutral territory; ideally public places, where the chances for tantrums and tears were dramatically reduced. Car showrooms were good (men were always distracted there), as were shopping malls and hotel lobbies. Next, she rehearsed her speech, the one about them both being in different places and needing different things. Lack of blame was essential. Finally there was the costume. Unwashed hair, no make-up, a shabby tracksuit … he’d look at her and wonder why he’d bothered in the first place. These were the details that separated the men from the boys, ensuring a clean and painless closure.
The thing that most women wouldn’t admit was that they didn’t really want a clean break; they preferred to remain desirable, mysterious; in love with the idea of themselves as forties film stars, playing out tragic scenes in train stations. They enjoyed being tortured by their decision, filled with regrets; it provided the perfect excuse to act out their pain with drink, cigarettes and strange men, all of which were mother’s milk to Leticia.
Drama: that was at the crux of the matter. Leticia prided herself on being above it.
And so, looking not at all like her normal self, Leticia arrived at Victoria bus depot and waited, sitting in her faded tracksuit on one of a row of blue plastic chairs anchored to the floor, before Hughie finally showed up.
She spotted him walking through the crowds of luggage-laden tourists. Her heart lifted. He looked different, still recognizably Hughie yet transformed. In fact, he’d never looked more handsome. He was carrying a bunch of shopping bags, wearing a new, expensive suit, and his hair was cut. Suddenly she wished she weren’t drowning in a sea of faded grey poly mix. For a split second she considered making a hasty retreat. But it was only her pride, she reasoned. A bit of vanity rearing its head.
He didn’t recognize her at first, so she waved.
He waved back. A sharp stab of longing cut across her chest.
‘Courage, darling,’ she told herself. Still, it was strange that she should need it; she’d never needed it before.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Hughie gushed as he approached and then he stopped, registering her curious ensemble. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, sitting down. ‘You look a bit … under the weather.’
‘Hughie,’ she began, ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Oh, dear! You’re not … you know …?’
‘Oh, no! No, no, no! Nothing like that!’ His face relaxed. ‘It’s just we need to have a talk.’
‘The six thirteen leaving for Brighton is now boarding at platform seven.’
A herd of gangly adolescents grabbed their bags and left, giving them a brief moment of privacy.
‘OK.’ He stared into her eyes. ‘I’m really pleased to see you.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I’ve missed you.’
It had been a long time since anyone had missed her. She shifted uncomfortably.
‘The six twenty leaving for Winchester is now boarding at platform eleven. Passengers are reminded to keep their belongings with them at all times.’
‘I think we should stop seeing each other.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘It just isn’t really working out, is it?’
Hughie stared at her.
Leo was right: he was so young, so terribly young.
‘But why not? What’s wrong with me?’
‘Nothing. It’s not you. It’s not you at all. It’s me, Hughie. It has to do with me.’
‘But … but I don’t get it. Have I done something wrong?’
‘The six twenty bus to Reading is now leaving from platform four.’
More travellers lumbered past, dragging luggage, listless with heat and exhaustion. Leticia tried to swallow. Her mouth was dry, throat tight.
‘Remember the Rules?’
‘Yeah. But I haven’t broken them.’
She stared down at the floor; at the space between her feet. ‘I know. Like I said, it isn’t you, it’s me.’
‘You mean you …’ he concentrated, putting something together, ‘you … like me?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Sort of. Anyway,’ she snapped impatiently, ‘it’s not important. What’s important is that we follow the Rules, Hughie. We need to protect ourselves.’
But Hughie wasn’t concentrating. Everything had shifted. Bugger the job! Leticia loved him! She’d practically said as much.
‘What do we need protection from? Especially if you like me and I like you, which, by the way, I do, you know,’ he grinned. ‘What could be better?’
‘See!’ she warned. ‘This is how it begins! The whole thing is getting completely out of hand!’
‘So what?’ He embraced her, covering her face with kisses. ‘Leticia, my darling!’
‘OK, stop!’ She pulled away. ‘Stop right there! We’re not doing a love scene, do you understand?’
‘But why not? What have we got to lose?’
‘Everything! You’re too young to know. You don’t understand now, but you will some day. Love doesn’t fix anything, Hughie. In fact, it destroys more than it fixes. And when the dust has settled, it’s just an afterthought.