Behaving Badly. Isabel Wolff

than the London Underground.’

      ‘You won’t.’

      ‘I’ll have atomic knickers—and a stoop—and arthritis.’

      ‘Rubbish, Daisy!’

      ‘I’ll probably have a Zimmer frame. You’ll have to push me up the aisle in a bloody wheelchair!’

      ‘You’re being ridiculous now.’

      ‘And I won’t be able to have kids.’

      ‘You will. Honestly, Daisy,’ I went on, as her sobs finally subsided. ‘You’ve got to get a grip. You’ve been here with Nigel enough times before, so why are you so especially upset now?’

      ‘Because,well,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve just done something rather…silly.’

      ‘What?’ There was silence. ‘Daisy, what have you done?’

      ‘Come to lunch and you’ll see.’

      When I rang Daisy’s bell at twelve, I expected her to come to the door with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, but instead she seemed to have recovered some of her natural élan.

      ‘Nige phoned me from his hotel,’ she said, ‘so I’m feeling a bit cheerier than I was. Ooh, what lovely flowers. Did you come by car?’ she added.

      ‘No. I got the tube.’

      ‘Good, because I’ve just discovered a bottle of fizz I didn’t know I had. I’ve had it in the freezing compartment for an hour. It should be nicely chilled by now.’

      ‘Great.’