The Tamarind Seed
“They were going to a reception at the French Embassy. His wife always took hours getting ready, and it was a trait that infuriated him. He thought it was rude to be unpunctual, an indication of a sloppy routine and careless thinking. He came to the bedroom door and watched her. She turned round from the chest of drawers where she was hunting for something, and smiled at him. She was a pretty girl, fair haired and fresh skinned, very English in type. She looked very good in country clothes, and nothing fancy really suited her. She had an unfortunate feminine love for the inappropriate, which she indulged when they went out at night. Richard had good taste, and the gleam of bead embroidery on the baby blue cocktail dress made him wince.
‘I’m coming, darling. I’m just getting a handkerchief. It’s only 6.30.’ ‘The Ambassador likes to get there at seven,’ he answered. ‘I just don’t want to sweep in at the same time. Look, come on for Christ’s sake. Haven’t you got a tissue?’ She struggled ...into her coat, and followed him down the stairs and out to the front door.MoreLess
‘I’m coming, darling. I’m just getting a handkerchief. It’s only 6.30.’ ‘The Ambassador likes to get there at seven,’ he answered. ‘I just don’t want to sweep in at the same time. Look, come on for Christ’s sake. Haven’t you got a tissue?’ She struggled ...into her coat, and followed him down the stairs and out to the front door.MoreLess
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