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and they both know full well that there will be another Joe in a matter of days, that there may in fact be a number of Joes already waiting in the wings.
    ‘Ah well. Tant pis. I had a lovely time.’ She cups his cheek in her hand and kisses him on the lips, stroking his cheek tenderly. ‘You are going to try to be a faithful husband now?’
    Joe nods.
    Valerie smiles. ‘Until the next Valerie comes along,’ and she turns and climbs back into bed. ‘Take care, my dear.’
    ‘And you too.’ Joe is relieved, grateful that she has taken this so calmly, like such a professional, and now wondering whether he is doing the right thing. Valerie sees the light go on in his eyes, and shakes her head.
    ‘No, Joe. No last goodbye fuck. I prefer my endings clear and clean cut.’ She blows him a kiss. ‘Go home to your wife and treat her well. Tell Alice I said hello.’
    Joe sighs with relief as he walks down the stairs from Valerie’s apartment. No second thoughts now. With that last statement from Valerie, Joe knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s doing the right thing.
    ‘I hate these bloody things.’ Alice is on her hands and knees, phone cradled snugly between her chin and shoulder as she brushes paint stripper thickly on to the legs of a cherry demi-lune table she’s picked up in a junk shop.
    ‘I know, darling,’ Joe says beseechingly on the other end of the phone, ‘but it’s only an art gallery opening and I promise we won’t have to stay long.’
    Once upon a time Alice would have loved going to the opening of an art gallery. She would have felt blessed to have been able to go to such a glamorous occasion, would have been awestruck at being allowed to see paintings before anyone else, would have stood in front of each painting for minutes at a time, drinking them in, forming an opinion.
    But she has learnt not to do that any more. She has learnt that an art gallery opening is just another place to see and be seen. That you take a glass of champagne from a waiter bearing a silver tray when you arrive, then walk around the room air-kissing all the familiar faces, commenting on how marvellous the art is when in fact you can’t possibly see anything due to the hundreds of people crammed into one small gallery.
    ‘You promise we can come straight home afterwards? No other parties?’ She drops the paintbrush into a can and picks up a small wad of wire wool.
    ‘I promise. What are you doing now, Alice? What was that noise?’
    ‘Stripping a table I found.’
    Joe laughs. ‘I don’t know why you always insist on doing it yourself. You can buy these pieces of furniture anywhere you want.’
    ‘Because I enjoy it,’ Alice says. For the hundredth time. ‘You know I get pleasure from it.’
    ‘That’s because you’re strange. You’re the only woman I know who actually enjoys getting filth under your nails and getting covered in paint.’
    That’s because, Alice thinks, I’m the only woman you know who thinks there’s more to life than manicures and appearing in Tatler .
    ‘I promise I’ll clean up by tonight.’
    ‘I promise I’ll have you dirty again by the time we get to bed.’
    ‘Will you ever lose that schoolboy sense of humour?’
    ‘Would you want me to?’
    Alice smiles, feeling loved and wanted, loving this feeling of closeness to her husband. It happens so rarely these days, but there are times when the pressure lifts and the cloud that seems constantly to overshadow her seems to disappear for a while, when Joe is not distracted and distant, when he reverts to the Joe she fell in love with.
    Times like now, when work doesn’t seem to be as demanding and he is not required to be in the office all hours, when the business trips are few and far between.
    And when the pressure of work has been relaxed, Joe is more relaxed. He is back to being the loving, playful husband he was when they met, and she has learnt to enjoy those times, for she knows they will not last.
    She has heard the