Free Dear Doctor Lily by Monica Dickens Page A

round. Now it was strong and very alive and glowing.
    In six years she had grown away from him. He wouldn’t have a chance with her now, a battered old divorce of thirty-four. The young man she was with in those good orchestra seats was probably one of many, unless the swine was her husband. She was out of Paul’s reach.
    â€˜Lily – what happened to you? You were such a kid. What happened to those God-awful glasses that kept falling off?’
    She relaxed into a smile. ‘Sorry about them.’ She poked the middle finger of her right hand towards the bridge of her nose. ‘I’ve got contact lenses now.’
    â€˜You’re lovely.’ He shook his head slightly as he said it, regret in his voice.
    â€˜Oh, rubbish.’ That brisk denial had not changed.
    A man with hair longish and curling at the sides materialized alongside. ‘You stay here, Lil. I’ll get the drinks.’
    â€˜Your Husband?’ Paul nodded towards the curly sideburns trying to get the barman’s attention.
    She laughed. Although her face was no longer plump, when she laughed her cheeks still went out sideways in a rounded chubby way. ‘You’re the one who’s married, remember?’
    â€˜That’s just it.’ Paul dropped his voice like a stone between them. ‘I’m not any more.’
    Her mouth fell open again. She searched his face. Then she recovered and muttered things like, ‘I’m sorry … hard for you.’
    When the other man fought his way back with two drinks, Lily introduced him.
    â€˜I’m Paul Stephens.’ He knew Lily did not remember his last name, if she had ever known it. He did not know her name.
    The man asked Paul where he was from and what his business was, and said some things about the play, and how he hoped it wouldn’t start up all that popular nonsense about reincarnation again.
    â€˜Why not?’ Paul asked. ‘We’ve all lived before. That explains a lot of things, like
déjà vu
and instant attraction.’
    â€˜I can’t agree. You get one stab at life and that’s it. If you make a mess of it, you don’t get another chance. Right, Lil?’
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ she said softly, hard to hear in the hubbub. ‘I think you can recognize someone from another life.’
    Not hearing, the man turned away, as someone called his name. Paul and Lily looked and looked at each other.
    Paul stayed an extra day in London and changed his appointment with a racing stable. Lily came to his hotel at nine o’clock.
    â€˜I’m not going to work,’ she said. ‘Can we have all day?’
    â€˜Till I have to drive to the country this evening.’
    â€˜I’ll come with you.’
    They were having breakfast. It wasn’t a very nice hotel, since Turnbull’s were tight with expenses. The dining-room was drab and the waitress discouraged, with a nasty bulge in her shoe. They were not eating, but drinking coffee and staring. Lily stirred her coffee with the plastic spoon she had picked up from the floor by the coffee machine in Iceland.
    â€˜You’re still sentimental, Lily. You haven’t changed.’
    â€˜Nor have you. I love you. Now say it, go on.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜â€œNo, you don’t. Hush now.” You were so edgy and cautious.’
    â€˜Well, Lily, I was married, for God’s sake.’
    â€˜You’re so proper. If we got married, would you still be like that with another woman who tried anything on?’
    Back in America, as soon as he had told Terry, Paul telephoned Barbara to say he was going to marry again. There was a pause. Then Barbara said, ‘Oh, English. She rides, then?’
    â€˜No, she doesn’t know anything about horses, as a matter of fact.’
    â€˜Good. Then you can teach her. You’ll like that, being better at something.’
    â€˜Barb, don’t be like that.’
    â€˜No, I