When poor Elisabeth finally got her peace she unpacked her bags, made a nice strong cup of tea and sipping her hot aromatic beverage began to contemplate what she was going to cook for her supper. Elisabeth really liked cooking. She was very young when her stomach problems began and when after school she left home to live on her own she had to take care not only of her career and life in general but of her eating too. She couldn't live on sandwiches or take-away chips and doughnuts. Back at home her mum looked after her, then she had to learn it herself. She was creative by nature: both at work and in bed, perhaps it was no wonder that her resourcefulness extended to the food making too.

Elisabeth just started to crush garlic for her lemon sauce for chicken when the phone rang again.

Cursing the caller from the bottom of her heart she picked up the receiver. Unsurprisingly it was Lydia again.

"I wonder at what time he's going to show," she said anxiously, "the day before yesterday he came somewhere after ten and it's half past already."

"Maybe he's not coming at all?" Elisabeth asked unkindly and immediately regretted her remark as Lydia exploded.

She accused Elisabeth of all possible sins and the only opportunity to shut her up was to call Pat's name. Since yesterday Elisabeth noticed that it worked like a bucket of cold water for Lydia.

"What, if he's trying your number right now while you keep your line busy?" she asked deviously.

The effect was just as she hoped for.

"Don't call me anymore," Lydia cried indignantly, "I call you myself when I can."

Can't wait, Elisabeth murmured congratulating herself for ingenuity. She praised herself yet again after her dinner was cooked, eaten and she stretched on the floor in front of the TV enjoying peace and quiet. She was full, she was in peace, she almost purred. Her thoughts were happy, lazy and slow. She thought: now she won't ring at all waiting if not for him then for his call, and she will never come here for the same reason. She knew that she was rather uncharitable but at the same time she had a few reasons to justify herself:

Elisabeth had too much of Lydia throughout the last 24 hours

during her shift she had to talk a lot to her clients and she longed for a bit of silence (TV doesn't count)

she didn't understand why Lydia behaved like a total fool, Elisabeth told her enough about Patrick for her not to have any illusions about the guy

although Superstar's attention had some good impact on her private life as all her unwanted admirers finally left her alone she didn't get any new ones and felt rather lonely.

As you can see she had enough of her own problems to feel sorry for her friend. Also she didn't see any basis to be sorry for Lydia: although she was sure that Patrick wouldn't visit Lydia this night, she knew that he would appear again eventually. Pat never changed his habits.

For the next week Elisabeth lived in a relative calm. Lydia phoned her only from work. Luckily for Elisabeth her shifts coincided with Lydia's so Maxim was instructed accordingly. That gave Maxim a double pleasure: firstly through an opportunity to be rude to Lydia which he did wholeheartedly as he hated when his employees made uncalled-for breaks during their work, and secondly yet again reminding his clients of the covert liaison between Elisabeth and Superstar.

…When Elisabeth heard Lydia's victorious voice on her home phone she knew that her friend scored again.

"He's just left." Lydia explained breathlessly. "It was unbelievable. I'll order a taxi in a moment and will be with you in an hour or so. There have to be a train in fifteen minutes. I don't work tomorrow so we can talk all night, isn't that great?"

"You can't come," said Elisabeth who did work tomorrow, "I – I have somebody with me at the moment."

"Bother!" Lydia said sullenly. "Can't you get rid of whoever it is quickly? I'm not going to discuss my private life in front of total strangers! You have an hour. Think about something to throw them away. Invent something like as your mum's coming or whatever. I can't talk longer or I'll miss my train."

"Lydia," said Elisabeth quietly, "you can only come if you like threesome."

"Elisabeth, you're not listening! Patrick was here again!"

"It's you who's not listening. I'm lying in my bed with my legs apart and it's not you who's coming. OK?"

"So what I'm going to do?" Lydia asked petulantly.

"Call Mary or somebody else. I'm busy!"

"I'll call Mary." Lydia decided brightening up sufficiently. "She looked sort of miserable recently."

Sorry, Mary, thought Elisabeth and returned to her book. She was on her own, fully clothed and rather lonely but Lydia wasn't a sort of companion she really needed at the moment.

The book, a crime story that somebody had forgotten in the salon, was a real thriller and Elisabeth was so much drawn into its bloody plot that she didn't notice time flying. The doorbell retuned her back to reality. It was past midnight and she had an early morning start tomorrow. I'll kill you, Lydia, she thought heading towards the front door, I'll kill you and you won't be bothering me ever again, and I will be acquitted! But it wasn't Lydia behind the door.

"You," Elisabeth said incredulously, she was so relieved for not seeing Lydia that forgot about everything else. "What are you doing here and where did you get my address? I don't remember giving it to you."

"From my wife," Superstar said coolly, "may I come in?"

"If you have to."

Whether he had to or not he did come in. He brought her a single rose, white, dispassionate, virginally beautiful, on an endless prickly stem. Elisabeth didn't like roses. As a matter of fact she didn't like flowers at all. The bouquets sent her by Maxim under the false pretence always stayed in the salon. From time to time she offered them to her best clients and with their eyes jumping out of their sockets they grabbed them in an innocent belief that they got hold of some relic sanctified by Superstar's touch.

"What do you want?" Elisabeth asked with uncovered animosity.

"Supper would be nice. I'm almost indecently hungry."

"Why did you come," said Elisabeth opening her fridge, "I thought I explained you everything last time. I have cold beef. Do you want some?

"Let's forget about past," Superstar said soothingly, "I brought a bottle of good wine. We will share it and talk. Just like two friends."

"We're not friends." Elisabeth said softening a bit.

"But we could pretend that we are."

They drank wine and it was excellent. It had a vague tangy taste and aroma so strong that without any apparent reason Elisabeth's heart tightened. She felt a bit sad and light-headed. In spite of Superstar's promise of a friendly conversation they didn't talk much and when they finished the bottle he stood up and moved towards the door. She followed him. At the door he stopped and turned around to say good-bye. She offered him her hand avoiding his eyes.

He said:

"Elisabeth?"

She looked into his face and saw that he was still hungry.

And she was hungry too...

Elisabeth didn't have much of an experience with older men, she preferred young firm strong bodies and believed that they were better not only to the touch. Perhaps she tried wrong men or Superstar was an exception but she decided to reconsider her views. He was good in bed. Really damn good. Elisabeth thought that she understood why so many women chased him around the world during his life. Money and his name played of course some role in it but not the main one. Elisabeth once heard an expression that there were some men who could make a prostitute to feel like a princess and some who could make a princess to feel like a prostitute. Superstar had a talent to make any woman to feel whatever she wanted to. And he was unbelievably tender. When his fingers touched her skin moving down from her neck to the navel she couldn't stop her body quivering as if it was her first time and she was on a doorstep of something new, scary and marvellous. When she finally felt him inside her she wasn't able to suppress a moan, so much her body wanted him.

Superstar had woken up before she did. He lay by her side touching her hair lightly and smiling gently and sadly to his thoughts. He knew that he loved Elisabeth. She was his late and most probably last love. Only now he fully realised that his autumn finally came and whether it would be miserable or sunny depended on this foul-mouthed, vivacious and not extra-sophisticated girl who was so unlike all the women he had before. He knew different women: beautiful, aristocratic, frigid and greedy. Elisabeth was greedy too but her greed was for life, she had that hidden fire he couldn't find in the others. He suddenly thought about his dad. He remembered that when he was a child, two of his best friends got puppies and he decided that he urgently wanted a dog too and asked his father for one. His mates' puppies were of the purest pedigree, nothing else could be given to the offspring of the rich and old families they belonged to. While the Superstar wondered what breed of dog his dad would choose for him the latter brought home a funny little fellow of unidentified kind. What sort of dog he is, asked the mystified boy and his father answered: the best one, a mongrel. A mongrel, a future Superstar said looking with some disgust at a small bundle of energy and curiosity which while they were talking christened one of the legs of their white majestic dinner table, why a mongrel? And why not, his dad said, in a way, you know, we all are mongrels.

He accepted the puppy and he loved it at the end. He was a great dog with plenty of spirit, strong will and eagerness to enjoy life in all its aspects. Elisabeth was just like that puppy: in love with life and unstoppable.

Elisabeth woke up when the telephone rang. She took the receiver sleepily to hear the clear and cold Maxim's voice:

"Do you know what time it is? And if you do, why are you still at home?"

"If you would only see my excuse." Elisabeth thought not realising that she was actually saying that aloud.

She bit her tongue while Maxim shrilled on the other side:

"I knew it. I knew it. I always knew it!"

"You can have a day off," he said some time later.

"To think about it, you can have three – no, two days off," he added afterwards.

"And I had two magic, two unbelievable days," said Elisabeth finishing her narrative to her friends when they met again, "and then he went back to America and I returned to my normal life and we both do our stuff and try to decide if we can live without each other."

"What about his wife?"

"He's filing for divorce. Again!"

"Aren't you afraid of her?"

"No. He told her that if she would bother me he would cut her allowance. Works marvels."

They were having a housewarming party in Elisabeth's new flat, she and her faithful friends: Mary, Kitty, Lydia and Jane. Elisabeth cooked them an amazing dinner although at the last moment she changed her carefully planned menu with which this story began if you remember. Thus they had mushroom soup and beef roulette.

Lydia was first to arrive to Elisabeth's place. Elisabeth sighed inwardly. Lately Lydia could talk of nothing but the most intimate particulars of her reunion with Patrick and although they were even more graphic than the lessons Marquise Le Roi gave to her young friend, Elisabeth was bored to death. By the way Pat vanished again but now Lydia was more optimistic: for some unknown reason she thought that he was secretly in love with her and played hard to get. She was also very happy for the fact that now Elisabeth lived in the same building with her precious Pat.

"Tell me, does Pat know that you entertain us today?" was the first thing she asked Elisabeth.

"I mentioned it, yes," said Elisabeth trying to sound very casual, "but he went to see his parents for a couple of days."

Elisabeth strongly suspected that he went to see his parents only to avoid Lydia, but it was useless to tell that to Lydia, she wouldn't believe that. Lydia believed only what she wanted to believe. She was always pampered and spoilt: by her parents, by her teachers and funnily enough by the most of her boyfriends. They found her whims charming and thought of her as of a little exotic flower which couldn't cope with the cold and hostile world outside her greenhouse. Unfortunately for Lydia Pat was even more spoilt and egotistic. He never loved anybody in his life but himself although he was capable of being a good and faithful friend. The day before Elisabeth's party they had their own housewarming for two after all her furniture, new and old, was delivered and all her bits and pieces occupied their rightful places. (And I must give it to him that he diligently helped her with settling in her new place.)

"It looks rather cosy, you know," he said approvingly when everything was finished," now let's drink for your happy days here and for us getting even closer.

"Amen!" Elisabeth said.

"Though, it's not for long, is it? Funny, I've always believed that you and I will stay single forever. I even thought that one day when we both are over eighty we might move in together. Imagine: you and I sitting in front of a fireplace, in rocking chairs, blankets on our knees, recollecting our young years and all the people we shagged. Tell me honestly: why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what?"

"I mean that celebrity dude, why did you sleep with him in the first place?"

"Because I haven't seen a male member for three weeks, I guess."

"You could always ask me. I would willingly show you mine."

"Thank you. I will keep it in mind next time I'm in need."

In spite of Patrick's absence Lydia looked cheerful. That bothered Elisabeth a little but she tried to convince herself that Lydia at last got tired of pursuing her wild dreams. The flat was admired. The food was eaten and praised. Coffee arrived. Lydia's coffee cup promised her promotion and quite a few other job related things but when Lydia elegantly asked Jane to cut the crap and tell her about her private life their own mystic Meg only shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know, the side of your cup which is responsible for love is empty."

"What do you mean, empty? How can it be empty! It has no right to be empty. It has to be full of events, great sex, love and so on. Look, I need another cup of coffee. Let's think that that one was wrong."

"Let's not!" Jane said firmly. "You're not allowed to have more than one reading in a fortnight. Otherwise it can bring bad luck. You have to wait for the next time. And by the way, if there is nothing in your cup it doesn't mean that nothing will happen to you. A reading can be wrong."

"So far everything has been right." Lydia said grumpily, she hated when the things didn't go her way.

Next was Mary. She wasn't her usual self recently, she was quiet and looked haggard but with all the turmoil of Kitty's discovery, Elisabeth's super affair and Lydia's obsession up to this moment her friends failed to see the difference in her. Now they all noticed her pale face, the dark circles under the eyes, the sadness of her mouth. They felt uneasy. They all had their problems but they shared them and helped each other when they could or at least morally supported their friends. How could they miss what was going on with her, how could they let down Mary, the kindest, nicest and in a way the most vulnerable of them all?

Mary's story was neither dramatic, nor melodramatic: just an ordinary unhappy little story.

Mary and Dan played doubles on Wednesdays. Wednesdays were great. Dan called her his partner, friendly patted her back for each good service and comforted if they lose. Mondays were even better. They played tennis too but they played against each other. These were rather friendly matches: who was winning didn't matter (although Mary tried not to do that too often, as Dan hated losing). After the match they usually went to pub where Dan talked and Mary listened and they both enjoyed time spent together. Mary would love to have something more romantic like that nice evening stroll along the shore of softly whispering sea…or candlelit dinner (cooked by mum) in her place but…but she was too shy to ask Dan and Dan never offered and he never see her back home after pub so she didn't have an opportunity to suggest a night cup or whatever.

(A propos, although Mary never had this candlelit dinner with Dan she thought it over up to

the minute detail. Menu for example included mum's specialities: stuffed quails, salad "Gourmet" for starter and grapes for the dessert. Mary thought grapes were very sexy food, she watched too much TV I'm afraid.

Even though her romance with Dan didn't seem to move forwards Mary was happy. Then one day everything changed. It started one sunny day when she came on the courts to play as usual. While she was walking towards theirs, she saw The Bitch approaching it from the opposite side. At first Mary thought that she was mistaken as The Bitch was anything but a fan of sports and games but unfortunately she was right. As usual The Bitch had John with her. John was wearing full tennis attire while she had a smart light-grey three piece on.

"Hi, Tom," she said in her hateful languid manner to one of the players, "will you play with John, please? I've come to cheer him to win but nobody wants to take poor baby on their team."

Tom who was the best tennis-player in the hospital and who would never agree to play with Mary even if she would go down on her knees went meekly with John to the court next to Mary's. Dan was late, actually he called Mary and told her that he would be late but she came earlier anyway in case if somebody would try to take their court. Then she saw him running and waving and smiled joyfully: he was so handsome, even John didn't seem to be as fatally attractive as he normally was. They started to play almost at the same time as John and Tom began their match and at first Mary was terribly conscious of The Bitch looking at them. Later she relaxed as the probability of The Bitch taking interest in her playing was infinitely small. She was sitting on the boundary of the two courts so she easily could follow the both matches if she wanted to but she clearly didn't. Her eyes were always on John and Tom, she cheered them both, even applauded from time to time. Mary and Dan finished earlier than the other couple but The Bitch didn't even turn her head to say "goodbye" when they were passing her. They had a pleasant hour in pub. Very pleasant, amazingly pleasant, awesomely pleasant as Dan was more excited than ever and made Mary laugh all the time. Back home Mary thought that even a presence of The Bitch didn't spoil her day and sighed ecstatically. It never happened before. She considered it her personal triumph. The rest of the evening she spent in agreeable agitation trying to guess why Dan was so animated, thinking that she knew the answer and wondering how soon he would ask her on a date. Their first real date! She hoped that it would happen at the weekend and fantasised how that would be. (Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!)

Mary thought so much about Dan and their weekend together that she started believing her dreams. Unfortunately Dan knew nothing about that. And so weekend came and went and nothing happened.

On Monday Dan was on the courts as usual and John and The Bitch were there too.

This time she brought a book with her and wore more casual clothes. She followed the match for a while – this time she didn't even have to ask Tom, he was already waiting – then took her jacket off and started sunbathing. The weather indeed was very warm although evening sun was gradually losing its strength.

Yet The Bitch was steadily shedding off her clothes and all the men on the courts paid more attention to her than to their games. Dan didn't play well that day either. He looked irritated and Mary remembered that he had the same expression on his face when he asked Jo about necessity of The Bitch's presence on their committee. She felt very warm inside and loved Dan even more.

Trouble started on Wednesday when John and The Bitch, this time in a snow-white tracksuit, appeared again. Wednesdays were for playing doubles only, so Mary was intrigued what John would do: he didn't have a partner.

As she learned soon, he was going to play with her and Dan. At least that was what Steve, the organiser of double matches, decided.

"Perhaps you can play with John like two against one," he said uneasily.

"Or, perhaps," said John smiling to The Bitch like an idiot, "we can persuade you to play?"

"O dear!" Mary whispered to Dan. "We must do something quickly or the game will be spoilt completely."

"Why?" Dan asked. "Is she so bad?"

"Look at her, does she strike you as a tennis player? But that's not the point. The point is

that John will make a total fool of himself hopping and fussing around her all the time. It wouldn't be the game. It would be a disaster."

While she was telling that The Bitch took off her tracksuit. Under it she was wearing a charming white tennis dress looking so great that at Wimbledon she could get all the prizes in singles, doubles, juniors' or veterans', ladies' or men's, provided that the referee and the audience would be men exclusively.

Mary was right. The game was a total disaster. The Bitch turned out to be an absolutely smashing player while Dan showed how bad a loser he could be. Each time he thought that Mary made a mistake he hissed like all the cobras in the world gathered together. Mary was getting more and more nervous and as a result of that, or something else, they lost. Dan gave her a murderous look and left without even saying good-bye. Mary felt horrible, humiliated and deprived of one of her most cherished pleasures of life.

Next Monday though he was his usual self. Neither The Bitch, nor John showed and Mary again enjoyed a nice evening with Dan. He told her that he got a letter from his mum that morning with the news about his sister getting married and so in July he was going home for the wedding. Accidentally she learned that he didn't like poultry but was partial to pork. Mary immediately made some mental changes in her perfect menu for the perfect dinner.

Neither John, nor his nasty companion appeared on the courts on Wednesday and Mary decided that The Bitch lost interest in tennis. Mary saw them during that week only once, on Friday. It was Millie's birthday and Millie was a receptionist who was liked by everyone. Mary went to wish her happy birthday and John was there and then he grabbed giggling Millie in his arms and carried her around the floor shouting that the heavenly body like she shouldn't have to trot a humble ground. Millie was petite and John was big and strong and he could carry on like that for eternity if The Bitch wouldn't appear from nowhere. She said: "Having fun, dear?" and that was enough for the merriness to die immediately. John put Millie down looking just like a scolded dog and Mary hated The Bitch more than ever.

Even if before she thought it wasn't possible.

Then she saw Dan. His eyes were set on John and Mary didn't understand their expression.

But she didn't like it anyway.

On Monday there was still no sight of The Bitch on the courts just as Mary expected. John didn't come either (naturally). After the game Dan smiling awkwardly excused himself from having a drink with Mary and vanished. Mary was disappointed but what could she do? She got changed and went slowly towards the bus stop: now she didn't drive her car on Mondays because of their visits to pub. Her bus finally came but instead of taking it she walked away. She popped into "their" pub but without Dan it was dull and uninviting. The tables were dirty, people were annoyingly loud and it smelled funny there. So she finished her drink hastily, left the place and went through the narrow streets to the seaside. It was getting rather dark now and there were quite a few couples strolling their way through the evening. They talked, or kept silent, or laughed that special muffled laugh which is well-known to all the people who are or were romantically involved. Mary felt more and more blue. She wanted to be just like people around her: she wanted to have somebody by her side. No, not somebody, Dan! They would talk and laugh too and he would hold her exactly like a man in front of her was holding his woman. Gently and lovingly.

The man in front of her even resembled Dan. Funnily enough the girl with him resembled The Bitch.

In fact…in fact they were The Bitch and Dan!

Mary stopped abruptly. She was terrified by the thought that they could turn around, see her and decide that she was spying on them. She ran all the way to the bus stop. When she returned home she felt feverish and nothing helped against it, no matter how many mugs of tea she had or how warmly she was wrapping herself in. She didn't sleep much that night. Or many other nights afterwards.

Thinking of Dan, dreaming of Dan and waking up in tears without Dan.