‘Well what did you think of me back then?’
She lied, as she always did. She’d lied so often about this over the years, using the same words and the same lilt to her voice that she believed it had become quite blatantly a falsehood to both of them — a section of the narrative for the outside, a tailored piece of public relations that wouldn’t bear the weight of close scrutiny, so why scrutinise it?
‘I thought you were dashing, successful. You hurtled into my life like James Bond.’
Surely he knew this wasn’t true, that it was just part of what he’d purchased at the time, that she’d been simply an excellent saleswoman — and, frankly, an excellent product.
‘And how do you see me now?’ He was fixated.
She took a breath and prepared herself to peddle the spin once again, but something held her back… He was supposed to know this stuff; it was for when other people were in earshot. Here, right now — she didn’t see the point. She found herself stalling. Was he testing her to make sure she had their story straight? It was time to meet his gaze. ‘Why are you asking this?’
‘Do you want to know what my first impression of you was?’
‘Not really, Philip.’
‘Dazzling. Utterly dazzling.’ He smiled at her and paused, losing himself momentarily in the corridors of memory. An art gallery event, something he didn’t particularly understand or enjoy, and there she was, floating across the room — floating up to him — as bubbly as the champagne. He remembered the vivid rouge of her lipstick, short blond hair that hinted at yachts off the coast of France. The reminiscence folded in on itself. She was in front of him, at the table, fingers clasping her glass.
‘It’s just, I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘At least, I think I’ve been thinking. Let’s say one’s a good judge of character in general and they meet someone for the first time, all the impressions are raw. They’re fresh. So one can really sense them. Have them fully soak in, if you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, Philip.’
‘But to get to know someone over time, well — I think it’s possible to end up knowing someone less. Your view of them becomes less clear.’ He was imagining foggy windshields and steamed-up shower mirrors, a woman’s outline lost somewhere behind them. ‘Because although they’ll reveal more of themselves to you over time — evidence, as you suggested — you’re also changing. You might have a stake in that person, so your judgement gets cloudy, tainted. You become a victim of your own prejudices when you’re making your observations, and so you can’t really see them as true. So your lasting impression of someone could well be the least accurate…’