Another Country by Anjali Joseph Page A

she’d found herself trying to replicate Richard’s ruthless gaze; in public places, she let her eyes rifle women’s bodies. Breasts? A bit saggy. Bum? Large. But the girl over there had buttocks that rose in a high curve like those in underwear advertisements. She now turned, as though subliminally aware of Leela’s thoughts, and gave Leela a hard look. Leela, embarrassed, turned away. The tube thundered through its endless tunnel.

    â€˜Hi sweetie.’ Tall, friendly, he opened the door for her, ran a hand through his hair, smiled. Leela leaned across for a kiss. She was seething.
    â€˜How was the day?’ she asked.
    â€˜Good. I thought I wouldn’t get off early but I did. We’ve submitted the presentation, so they’ve got to get back to us.’
    â€˜Great.’
    She followed him to the kitchen.
    â€˜Do you want a drink?’
    â€˜Mm.’ She put down her bag. ‘I’m thinking I’ll pack and get to my place tonight.’
    â€˜Oh, really? Dad isn’t getting here till around lunchtime tomorrow.’
    â€˜Yeah, but, whatever, it’d be nice to wake up at home, have the day.’
    â€˜Okay.’
    Glass in hand, she went to the bedroom and began to take clothes out of her drawer.
    Richard appeared in the doorway, hand in hair. ‘I could put some stuff in the spare room under the bed if you want.’
    Leela, on her knees amid a collection of Tesco bags, ground her teeth. ‘Why?’
    â€˜If you don’t want to carry it all back.’
    â€˜Oh, I think it’s simpler.’ She stuffed the errant leg of a pair of tights into another bag, and began to carry several of them towards the hall.
    â€˜You don’t have to go tonight,’ Richard repeated.
    â€˜I’d rather.’ She turned on her heel and went back towards the bags.
    â€˜Okay.’
    They sat with plates of saffron risotto in tiny servings. Leela drank more, and poured more wine into Richard’s glass, then into her own. She didn’t care, anyway. The wine’s taste altered; from dry and reminiscent of lemons, it became sourer. Richard went to the kitchen to get the next dish, skate with capers and tomatoes. They’d eaten something similar in France in the summer, when they’d gone to the wedding of one of his friends. The bride had asked Leela if she and Richard planned to marry.
    â€˜I don’t know if he wants to,’ Leela had said.
    Catherine had looked at her directly, and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Set yourself a time limit,’ she advised. ‘I did that with Tom. I told myself, three years and you’re out. By the time he asked me, I was mentally dividing up our furniture.’
    Leela had laughed, but the conversation had stayed with her.
    â€˜Why can’t we just move in together?’ she now asked Richard for the millionth time.
    He grinned. ‘We basically do live together.’
    â€˜But this isn’t my space’, a term he favoured, as in, “I like what you’ve done with this space”.
    â€˜You have your stuff here.’
    â€˜I have to move out when your dad’s here.’
    â€˜He’s hardly ever here.’
    â€˜That’s not the point.’
    They sat down with the fish, which was excellently cooked.
    â€˜The fish is nice,’ Leela said.
    Richard looked troubled.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜I feel like you’re never satisfied.’
    â€˜What?’ She felt apprehension mixed with the usual rage.
    â€˜You’re never grateful.’
    â€˜ What? ’
    â€˜I think you should think about all the things I do for you,’ he said doggedly.
    â€˜What about all the things I do for you?’
    He looked doubtful, in the slightly aquiline way only a thin person with a long nose can. ‘My point is, you only look at the things that upset you,’ he said. ‘I think you should look at all the things I do that are nice. Like