Читать книгу The Essence of the Thing - Madeleine John St. - Страница 12

‘What’s your dad doing?’

‘Watching telly.’

‘Take him a caramel then.’

The child departed and the two women sat looking at each other for a moment. ‘Lucky you,’ Nicola sighed. ‘Your turn will come,’ said Susannah.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yes, of course I do. As soon as you get shot of that rat.’

Nicola’s face was a portrait of misery. She did not want to get shot of Jonathan; her present situation was so intolerable that it could not truly be pondered, or even admitted: even here, now, with Susannah, she could look only at its edges, not at the excruciating whole.

‘Jonathan isn’t a rat really,’ she said, almost wildly. ‘He isn’t – it’s just – something’s gone wrong somewhere. I mean, it’s probably my fault. I just haven’t had a chance to talk to him properly. I don’t know what’s in his mind. It must be my fault: I must have done something wrong.’

‘He should have told you what it was, then, when you did it, not waited, and then – this.’

‘Yes, well, it’s difficult for him – he’s – you know – perhaps he was too shocked, or confused – I don’t know.’

She broke off, near to tears again. ‘Listen, darling,’ said Susannah, ‘he may or may not be a fully paid-up rat but he’s landed you in it good and proper, causing grief to you and consternation to your friends. As far as I’m concerned, if he doesn’t shape up and talk this through to your mutual satisfaction as soon as he gets back from his cowardly weekend away, then the thing for you to do is to eff off out of the place immédiatement and leave him to it. Just pack a bag and go. I don’t know what your alternatives may be but you know you’re entirely welcome to come and crash here until you get sorted. But I mean, no pissing about. Either he shapes up and explains himself and makes a most profound apology and a guarantee of no further similar scenes – that is, if you really do want as you say to stay with him – or you get the fuck out of his rat-like way. You can sleep in my workroom. I’ll even clear some space for your things. I can’t say fairer than that.’

‘You’re an angel,’ said Nicola miserably. ‘But I can only hope that I won’t need to take advantage of your generosity.’

‘Never mind that: just promise me that you won’t hang about. I mean it. I know rats. If there’s one thing they love to do, it’s prolong the agony. Do you promise? You’ll telephone me on Monday evening, alright, at the latest Tuesday, either to assure me that the situation’s sorted out, or to say that you’re on the way here: is that understood?’

‘You’re an angel.’

‘Yes,’ said Susannah, ‘that’s me, definitely.’