The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

She was not looking forward to this evening. During the early, difficult stage (she smiled humourlessly at that piece of litotes) Carmine had been a rock to her, a mediator and ally in the painful process of getting David through the initial shock and enabling him to come to terms with what he had become. That nightmare was over now, though, and the idea that Carmine should come to dinner on a purely social basis — thus shifting the relationship between the three of them from the professional to the personal — dismayed Penny. She did not want Carmine as a friend. The woman unnerved her (understandably), and now that she was no longer needed, Penny would have vastly preferred never to set eyes on her again.

David, though, had argued that one invitation was the very least they could do to thank Carmine. Anything less would be downright rude, he had said, and considering that without her intervention Penny would now be a widow, he found her attitude hard to understand, and more than a little disappointing. He had expected better of her. Feeling like a petty-minded schoolgirl, Penny had flushed and capitulated and spent the rest of the day torn between feelings of shame and guilt, and fervent hopes that Carmine would decline the invitation. But Carmine had not declined, so the motions must be gone through, and David would be pleased, and when it was over she could, with luck, bid Carmine a final adieu .

The meal progressed in decorous, civilized style, only marred for Penny (if one overlooked the actual content of the food) by the amount of wine that David and Carmine drank. It wasn't that she really minded, Penny told herself. It wasn't as if either of them became drunk or obnoxious. But Carmine's contribution was only the one bottle of champagne; they had paid for the rest, and considering that ten thousand pounds of their money was now sitting in her bank account

She pushed the thought away. The matter of the money was niggling at her too often for comfort, and she reminded herself that, as Carmine had said at the time, what price her husband's future? David had been a v had been what he was for four months now, and even in her meanest moments Penny had to acknowledge that the condition had its advantages. Take the sex, for instance. Through their married life he had never had a high sex drive; it had been a bone of contention at times, and once his illness set in, any question of conjugal rights had gone straight out of the window. Penny had never complained, naturally, but she had suffered a lot of frustration. Not so now. Now, David was tireless . Inventive, too, and so keen that in fact his demands were starting to become exhausting and just a little tedious. Ice cream is delectable, but too much makes you sick

Penny pushed that thought away, too, and tried to shake her mind out of its bout of self-pity. What did the money matter, or the small irritations? David was alive (well but no: don't go down that path) , strong, and guaranteed to remain that way for

The word hit her suddenly and hard. For ever. David wasn't going to age. As years passed, he would remain exactly as he was tonight, while she

"Penny?" Carmine's voice snapped the chain of the horror rising in her. "Is anything wrong?"

Oh, no; of course nothing's wrong. Only that I'm such a cretin that I've only just started to consider the implications of immortality ! "No," Penny said, in such a peculiarly strangled voice that she gave the complete lie to the statement. "No, I — something stuck in my throat, I think."

She might have imagined it, but Penny thought Carmine and David exchanged a very private look. "Not a fishbone, I hope?" Carmine said solicitously. "They can be dangerous. Can I"

"No!" She swallowed. "Thank you. It's gone now." She took a large and unladylike swig from her wineglass, and this time distinctly saw David raise an eyebrow.

"More, darling?" No trace of disapproval in his voice; but he was good at hiding things. Always had been, now she thought about it.

"Yes. Thanks." Defiantly she emptied the refilled glass in one, challenging him to make any comment. He didn't.

"It was a lovely meal, Penny," Carmine said, possibly to ease the sudden sharp change in the atmosphere.

"Absolutely," David concurred before Penny could think of a reply. "We must do it again, mustn't we?"

Penny opened her mouth to snap "Must we?", but had the wit to close it again before anything came out. David offered Carmine coffee, and when Penny showed no sign of volunteering to make it, he headed to the kitchen to do it himself. Penny watched him go (tall, slim; that old tendency to put on weight had quite gone, and he looked extremely handsome these days) and as he disappeared, a question sprang into her mind. It was a spin-off from the immortality thing (she was feeling calmer about that, though doubtless it would come back and hit her again later), and suddenly she wanted, extremely badly, to know the answer.

She turned to Carmine. "May I ask you something?"