I top you up?” he asked and went to pick up her glass, which was almost empty.
At this moment Isabella appeared behind the redhead. She stood there and looked at Tristan questioningly for a moment. Her companion, clearly rather annoyed, whispered a word in her ear and went on ahead to the cloakroom to fetch her coat.
Tristan stood up and reached for Isabella’s hand, but she only made contact for a fraction of a second – just long enough to slip the business card between his fingers. Then she was gone. He stared at the card in astonishment, as doubts began to arise in his mind. But then he turned the card over and saw that on the back she had left her phone number, immediately under his own. A smile crept across his face, as he put the card in his inner pocket and sat down again to fill Sam’s glass.
“Who was that,” she asked, with an expression that was both ingenuous and unsuspecting.
“Just a friend,” he said and kissed her hand.
IV
Next morning he awoke with a thick head. The light of the breaking day was already flooding into his bedroom, casting shadows on the white sheets of his bed. Outside the window London was just waking up to a crisp Saturday morning. There was scarcely a cloud in the sky.
Beside him, under the white of his duvet, the shape of a woman was clearly discernible. Locks of auburn hair peeped out from beneath the covers. Then he saw an arm, at the end of which a hand gently moved, as its owner awoke. For Tristan, the aroma that wafted up from the sheets was testimony to a champagne-drenched night of pleasure. He got up without waiting until she was fully awake. The hand grabbed his ankle, but he gently prised the fingers apart and descended the stairs of his penthouse. Then he took a clean towel from the shelf, hung it next to the door of the cubicle, and began to shower. Below the window of his bathroom flowed the Thames. As he shampooed his hair he watched the ships travelling along the river and the seagulls following them. Then the sliding door behind him opened, and Sam stepped in. She brushed one of her heavy red locks out of her face and gave him a cheeky look: “Not so fast, my friend,” she said and took his hand in hers. Then she gave him some of his body wash and intimated that she would like him to use it on her.
The ship that he had just been watching was already out of sight when they emerged from the bathroom. She bent over a little to dry herself. He, though, picked up a dressing gown and went out on to the balcony, oblivious of the pools of water he left behind on the marble floor. Outside, in the fresh spring air, he grabbed the hood and used it to dry his face and ears.
Tristan could feel the icy breeze off the river blowing into his sleeves and around his ears. He shivered. Yet, strangely enough, he enjoyed the cold, which enveloped him and cooled his body, still warm from the shower. How he would have loved to swim out into the swirling currents of the Thames. Just him and the water, face to face. He could practically feel the waves embracing him and himself becoming one with them. Once again he took a deep breath, then he turned back to the door of the terrace. Sam was standing there, with his mobile phone in her hand.
“It’s ringing,” she said with an ironic expression on her face.
“Thanks,” he said, distractedly, kissed her casually on the cheek and took the mobile from her hand. He walked past her and then turned round to her.
“It’ll be Marcus, we’re meeting for brunch. Would you like to come with me?”
“Where are you going?”
He named a restaurant specializing in typical German fare. Everyone in the city knew that this place served very fatty food and was therefore the ideal choice for the morning after a night of binge drinking. He already knew what her answer would be, but he still looked expectantly in her direction.
“Sorry, I can’t come with you. I’ve already got a lunch date.”
He was quite sure she had no such thing. Women like her were reluctant to eat out like that – their little secret could be in danger of being discovered. All the same, he gave a sigh, as though disappointed, patted her on the bottom and said:
“That’s a pity. Wait a minute, I’ll just get changed, then we can take a taxi to the city centre together.”
She raised her head like a child and he gave her a kiss on the forehead. Then Tristan went to his wardrobe and selected a turquoise shirt, a beige sweater, jeans and leather shoes. After dressing, he dried his hair. As he did this he saw Sam standing behind him in the mirror. Her wide brown eyes were following every one of his movements with curiosity. Before he started shaving, he reached for the phone, picked out Marcus’s number and called him.
“I thought you’d be otherwise engaged. Are you still okay to meet up?”
Tristan glanced at Sam and replied: “Of course. Where are you now?”
“I was just having breakfast with my wife and the kids. But don’t worry, I’ve hardly eaten a thing.”
“Can you manage to be there for one?”
“Yes, no problem. See you soon then.”
“See you soon,” said Tristan and ended the conversation. He picked up the shaving foam dispenser and sprayed the foam over his face and neck. As he applied the razor to his skin, to remove his two day beard, he recalled what Marcus had said. Could he really have been home to see his wife and children so early? What time management!
Tristan had never been able to work out how the marriage between Marcus and his wife could have ended up in such a crisis. They had known each other since they were at school and had started going out in year 10. He was captain of the First Fifteen and she was a girl from a well-to-do family; she was the object of the affections of many of her fellow-students but she only had eyes for him. She was so pretty. When Tristan was recruited by the bank and he and Marcus had become friends, they were still together. Amy had just given birth to her second child, a lively little boy. They were both overjoyed and proud to introduce their little family to Tristan when they invited him to dinner one day. On that occasion Tristan had taken with him a girl he’d met the day before in a cafe. His companion had been enchanted with the happily married couple, their little house and the chubby-cheeked offspring.
“You can tell they’ve known each other for decades. They’re like a single unit, like two trees that have grown into each other over the years.”
Both of them did indeed radiate such a degree of mutual trust and serenity that Tristan had felt particularly happy for his friend at that time. He had enjoyed the Sunday evenings they spent together, but couldn’t help noticing that Amy was not particularly enamoured of the continually changing names of his female companions. He felt sorry about this and was disappointed when on one occasion Marcus told him that he and Amy would unfortunately not have time to have dinner with them the following Sunday. Tristan had shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face, at which Marcus had apologized and revealed the real reason.
This was why in the following four months Marcus and Tristan had not been able to see each other so often. Of course, they worked together in the same office and still went out for lunch together. But Amy succeeded in keeping her husband well away from Tristan in the evenings and at weekends. In the office Marcus talked about more frequent trips to the country with the children, and also the fact that Amy had made contact with old schoolfriends who had also started a family and who they regularly visited. At first Marcus gave the impression of being happy with this, and Tristan was quite willing to concede that his friend had every right to this way of life, although he himself had no desire to change anything about his own easy come, easy go approach to life. He continued to see many different women, none of whom, however, had the slightest chance of forming a more serious relationship with him. He enjoyed London’s glittering nightlife to the full and had meanwhile acquired new fun-loving friends to take the place of Marcus as they partied in the clubs and bars of the city. They were also bank colleagues, but they were by nature coarse and totally incapable of the sort of friendship that would even come close to the relationship of trust that had so quickly formed between Tristan and Marcus.