SEVENTEEN
It was half past six when the cold woke Sophia. She checked her phone and saw she hadn't received a message from Peter. No doubt he had found comfort in the arms of the au pair before resting up for the weekend and his game of golf and day out with his neandertal friends. She made the best of a bad job by messaging him to say that the karaoke had gone on into the early hours and she had been offered the use of one of the rooms at the club, which the Japanese brass liked to use after a night on the Suntory whisky.
It was as lame as an alibi could be, but it would do. She told Peter she'd be back by eight, which gave her time to shoot back to the office and change into her sensible work clothes. She tried to get herself ready without disturbing the girls, but first Karina, then Iben woke. Iben kindly offered her the use of a new toothbrush, kissing her on both cheeks before she passed it over. After she had dressed and the flatmates had slipped robes on, Sophia accepted their offer of a quick cup of coffee, knowing that she had time on her side.
Sensing that Sophia was a little down, Iben asked if anything was troubling her. Desperate to share her burden, the older woman told them about her problem with Petsi. While Iben found it difficult to believe that the Swede wouldn't be throwing herself at her employer, Karina - who knew the Englishwoman better - thought that her intensity might be putting the au pair off and preventing them from enjoying a closer relationship. Sophia acknowledged that she had been a little too pushy with the helper, while strategically failing to mention that she had fucked her boyfriend at the earliest opportunity. (She had recently learned from Peter that Ulf had been off the scene for a month or so, and had put two and two together about Petsi blaming her for the break-up.)
It was Iben (who had taken a shine to Sophia from the get-go and who didn't possess a jealous bone in her body) who suggested a way in which the breakthrough might be made. Why didn't Peter and Sophia invite the two of them over for dinner? They could help create the atmosphere in which Petsi's resistance could be broken down. Sophia thought about the idea and decided she liked it. Liked it a lot. Having thanked the girls for a wonderful time, she left with a spring in her high-heeled step, turning the head of the postman, as he made his early morning rounds of leafy North London.
Peter was up and about when Sophia returned, getting breakfast for the children in the weekend absence of Petsi, who had been with him in her bedroom until eleven o'clock the previous evening. As fate would have it, Peter had been speaking to the Swedish girl about her relationship with Sophia, urging her to chill out when around her. Petsi, feeling that Peter was trying to push her away, had started to cry, seeking comfort in his arms. The way Peter put it was like this: Sophia wanted to show Petsi that she considered her part of the family. Drawing closer together with her physically, he reasoned, would help cement the emotional bonds between them, while establishing a mutual empathy, which could only benefit everyone involved. It might have been poppycock, but it seemed to have the desired effect.
When his wife returned home, rather than quizzing her about her nocturnal activities, Peter was very chipper, talking about what they might do the following day as a family and making her favourite breakfast of
crêpes
with salmon and cream cheese, while dealing with the demands of the kids, for whom Sophia had arranged gymnastic classes, which started later that morning in a local church hall.
Before he departed for his day out with the lads, as he was upstairs packing his waterproofs, he mentioned to his wife that Petsi had spoken of wanting to strengthen her emotional bond with her. Sophia knew better than to ask how this apparent change of heart had come about, but just had time before Peter left to tell him that she would be inviting her former intern (now on a short-term contract with an internet start-up before heading back to Copenhagen to finish her course) and her Norwegian flatmate over for dinner.
She believed this would provide a tremendous fillip for Petsi, since they could all chat together in their native languages (Swedish, Danish and Norwegian being more or less mutually intelligible, so Iben had told her). Peter said it sounded like a splendid idea, and suggested they talk about it again later. Peter went off with a song in his heart, as the saying goes - a song that would have segued into the Hallelujah Chorus had he known that Karina had already been having daydreams about him.
It was not until the following day (after they had returned from a visit to Peter's brother's place for Sunday lunch) that Peter and Sophia were able to put their heads together about a possible date for the get together. In the end, they plumped for the spring solstice, 21 March, which that year fell on a Saturday, if it was good for their three prospective guests. They would ask Carrie if the kids could have a sleepover with her that night, failing which they could always go to Peter's parents, who lived only an hour away. While the children wouldn't be mad about the idea, Peter's folks would be delighted. They didn't talk about it, but Peter and Sophia knew they felt they got the short straw as far as seeing the grandchildren was concerned, even though they lived so close.
Within a few days, everything had fallen into place, and Sophia's only gripe was that she'd have to wait the best part of a month before the deal was sealed with Petsi. That would mean she would have been in a state of the utmost frustration for going on four months. How she hated her husband sometimes for the ease with which he got what he wanted. Why did it always come with such difficulty for her?
The big day finally arrived and Sophia was pleased to see that Petsi, who had been relieved of cooking duties so she could enjoy herself to the utmost, had made a special effort sartorially. She had put on a ivory crew-neck short-sleeved crop top with a shiny black satin mini skirt with a broad elasticated waist of the type boxers wear in the ring. The top scarcely covered Petsi's navel and the ensemble was comfortably the sexiest thing Sophia had ever seen the girl wear.
Peter had been put in charge of the dinner, which Sophia realised was a mistake as soon as their guests arrived, as they all insisted on heading to the kitchen to speak with the chef. He soon had them on a string, marvelling over not just his culinary skills but also for being a 'Renaissance man'. Sophia was strongly tempted to show them photos of him lying on the floor of a restaurant with his neandertals after a pretty run-of-the-mill night out, but refrained on the grounds they would compliment him for his metrosexuality or some such shit. Anyway, it took a good 20 minutes to get them out of the kitchen, where Peter was taking an age to prepare the pomegranate salad, which would accompany the pulled pork that was simmering away in the oven.
Once the women were seated in the sitting room with the drinks they'd brought with them from the kitchen, much to Sophia's dismay, the conversation continued to revolve around her husband. Karina told the story of how she'd seen a photo of Peter on Sophia's desk when she first started working for her, and had made it part of her daily ritual to sneak a peek of it at some point during the day. Karina was sitting in the middle of the sofa between Iben and Petsi, while Sophia was sitting on the armchair at Petsi's end of the settee. She had opted for the English Rose look - a below-the-knee Laura Ashley V-neck frock with a nipped-in waist and broad shoulder straps. Large red roses were patterned onto the cream-coloured dress, as well as onto the straps. With them she wore a pair of Italian crocheted cotton and leather ballet flats in white and deep red.
Karina was wearing what Sophia dubbed a lesbian power outfit, a white single-breasted slim-fit tuxedo over a beige T-shirt. Happily, she had taken off her passion-killing black boots at the front door. Iben had chosen an army-style khaki shirt with breast pockets. The long sleeves had been rolled up one cuff-length and the top three buttons left undone, providing a tantalising glimpse of the valley between her breasts. She had paired these with a pair of tight-fitting beltless jeans. She looked good enough to eat, thought Sophia.
After a quarter of an hour, Peter came in to a chorus of appreciation and expressions of solicitation about his wellbeing, and offered to refill everyone's glasses. That service performed, he settled into the other armchair - opposite the sofa. He was wearing what Sophia called his 'pulling gear': a slim-fitting black roll-neck jumper tucked into a pair of matching trousers, with loafers.
Petsi seemed to get along with the guests very well, judging from her relaxed demeanour and the tendency for the three of them to slip into their native tongue when they got particularly excited about something. Their conversation covered a variety of topics: the respective merits of Scandinavian and British universities, AI essay-writing bots and its effect on education, democratic socialism versus capitalism, and, as is the case when two or three foreign students gather together, English food.
That provided the cue for Peter, who had popped out a few minutes earlier, to return with the news that dinner was served. The pulled pork (which had been cooked for nine or ten hours in an aromatic sauce of apple cider vinegar, cinnamon sticks, coriander seeds, crushed chilli, black pepper, salt and brown sugar) was served in baguettes, with a pomegranate and mixed leaf salad on the side. It was a huge hit with everyone; even Sophia was impressed, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek, as she walked past him to get the dessert. Besides setting down a marker to remind the girls that she had first claims to the man, she thought the gesture might send the message that the next phase of the evening would soon be starting.
