Free Instances of the Number 3 by Salley Vickers

not likely that they would be useful again.
    But what to do about the hand responsible for that neat folding?
    There is some law which determines that a pronounced trait or characteristic in childhood will often tend, later in life, to turn into its opposite. Bridget’s childhood had been made turbulent by her questioning mind. She pursued matters—especially with her father—which might have been better left undisturbed. After she left Ireland, Bridget had worked first in a hospital, then in a hotel. The hotel manager’s second in command was a cautious kleptomaniac. Bridget, being sharp, noticed him slip a lighter from a drinks table into his pocket. But further observation suggested that he confined his thefts to those guests who treated the staff rudely, and decided, when another member of staff under suspicion for the crimes was threatened with dismissal, not to come forward with what she had seen.
    The innocent staff member was dismissed. About this Bridget felt no compunction. She could have averted the injustice but…it was not, exactly, that she couldn’t be bothered—more a sense that there was something dangerous in any tendency to meddle. Better to let the criminal go scot-free, she felt, than get involved in acts of moral denouncing. If she had pushed the thought a little further, she might have added that a touch of injustice here and there was safer than too much righteous interference. And, to be fair, she would have acknowledged that that was reasonable only if she, too, were prepared to take a pinch of injustice as part of her own measure.
    This small illumination lit the way for others: Bridget, while she lost none of the quickness which so antagonised her father, dropped some of the indignation which had attended it. She became expert at letting things ride; and,indeed, it was partly this quality which had endeared her to Peter.
    Sitting at her dressing table, from whose surfaces all trace of her pale French powder had been dusted, she decided to let the matter of Zahin’s intrusion into her bedroom ride too. So what if Zahin had inspected her underwear? It was underwear she was proud of.

15
    Bridget’s plan was that she should visit Farings every fortnight. To establish her presence in London she made a point of calling in on Mickey. It was clear that Mickey had taken the hump.
    ‘Nice, is it, your new house then?’ she asked, as if enquiring about the comforts of a bordello.
    ‘Very. There’s not much to do to it, which is just as well.’
    ‘What you going to do with yourself there then?’
    Bridget guessed that Mickey hoped for an invitation. Besides the fact that her neighbour was a committed ‘townie’ it would be hopeless if Farings became a place where she had to invite people. She steeled herself not to be drawn. ‘D’you know what, Mickey—I really want to do nothing there. That’s the point.’
    ‘Frances like it, did she?’ So that was it. Mickey had discovered that Frances had visited and was jealous.
    Frances, too, was conscious that there was a coolness between her and Bridget’s neighbour. Her introduction to the Hansomes had, after all, come through Mickey,who was not to know that there were delicate reasons why Frances, having been introduced to Peter, had suddenly to cease to be seen near his home. In the aftermath of Peter’s death she had tried to re-establish a friendly link; but Mickey, who had an elephant’s memory, wasn’t having any of it.
    Frances and Bridget were spending Saturday together, so when Frances turned up and found Bridget out she called at Mickey’s house to see if Bridget was there. The meeting didn’t go well.
    ‘She’s annoyed with me,’ Frances said, back in Bridget’s kitchen after Mickey had made only the most perfunctory attempt at civility. ‘She thinks I dumped her after she introduced me to Peter.’
    ‘Well, you did,’ said Bridget.
    ‘Yes,’ said Frances, stung, ‘but there were reasons…’
    ‘Yes, like sleeping