Cocktails for Three by Madeleine Wickham Read Free Book Online Page A

abruptly.
    â€œBy the way, your man’s in there,” said Ed. “Ex-man. Whatever.”
    â€œJustin?” Candice stared at him, her cheeks suddenly flaming. “Justin’s in the flat?”
    â€œI saw him letting himself in earlier,” said Ed, and raised his eyebrows. “Are you two back together again?”
    â€œNo!” said Candice.
    â€œNow, that’s a shame,” said Ed. “He was a really fun guy.” Candice gave him a sharp look. On the few occasions that Ed and Justin had met, it had been clear that the two had absolutely nothing in common.
    â€œWell, anyway,” she said abruptly, “I’ll see you around.”
    â€œSure,” said Ed, shrugging, and disappeared back into his flat.
    Candice took a deep breath, then opened her front door, her head whirling. What was Justin doing there? It was a good month since they’d split up. And more to the point, what the hell was he still doing with a key to her flat?
    â€œHi?” she called. “Justin?”
    â€œCandice.” Justin appeared at the end of the corridor. He was dressed, as ever, in a smart suit whichverged on trendy, and holding a drink. His dark curly hair was neatly glossed back and his dark eyes glowed in the lamplight; he looked to Candice like an actor playing the role of a moody intellectual. “A young Daniel Barenboim,” someone had once admiringly described Justin— after which, for several evenings, she had noticed him sitting casually in front of the piano, and sometimes even fingering the keys, despite the fact he couldn’t play a note.
    â€œI apologize for dropping in unannounced,” he said now.
    â€œGlad to see you’ve made yourself at home,” said Candice.
    â€œI expected you back earlier,” said Justin, in a slightly resentful tone. “I won’t be long— I just thought we should have a little chat.”
    â€œWhat about?”
    Justin said nothing, but solemnly ushered her down the corridor into the sitting room. Candice felt herself prickling with annoyance. Justin had a unique ability to make it seem as though he was always in the right and everyone else was in the wrong. At the beginning of their relationship, he had been so convincing that she too had believed he was always right. It had taken six months and a series of increasingly frustrating arguments for her to realize that he was just a self-opinionated pompous show-off.
    When they’d first met, of course, he had dazzled her. He had arrived at the
Londoner
fresh from a year’s experience on the
New York Times
, with the reputation of a huge intellect and a barrage of impressive connections. When he had asked her out for a drink she had felt flattered. She had drunk copious quantities ofwine, and gazed into his dark eyes, and had listened admiringly to his views— half persuaded by everything he said, even when she would normally have disagreed. After a few weeks he had begun to stay the night at her flat every so often, and they had tentatively planned a holiday together. Then his flat-share in Pimlico had fallen apart, and he had moved in with her.
    It was really then that things had gone wrong, thought Candice. Her hazy admiration had melted away as she saw him in close proximity— taking three times longer than herself to get ready in the mornings; claiming proudly that he couldn’t cook and didn’t intend to learn; expecting the bathroom to be clean but never once cleaning it himself. She had come to realize the full extent of his vanity; the strength of his arrogance and eventually— with a slight shock— that he considered her no intellectual match for himself. If she tried to argue intelligently with him he patronized her until she made a winning point, at which he grew sullen and angry. Never once would he admit defeat— his self-image simply would not allow it. For in his own mind, Justin was destined for great things.