Читать книгу The Essence of the Thing - Madeleine John St. - Страница 9

‘Are you doing anything tonight?’

‘Not particularly’

‘Can I come round after work?’

‘Just you?’

‘Yes. Just me.’

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘Ish.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

‘I’m afraid Geoff’ll be here. It’s one of his days off.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Look, I’ll bring something to drink. Is there anything else you’d like?’

‘No, something to drink will do nicely’

‘I’ll see you later then, around six-thirty, okay?’

‘Yes, see you then. Take care.’

‘You too.’

Susannah hung up.

‘Who was that?’

‘Nicola.’

‘What does she want?’

‘Me.’

‘Why?’

‘A friend in need.’

‘Oh? Something wrong?’

‘She says ish. I dare say we’ll find out tonight.’

‘Oh, God. She’s not going to go on and on, is she? I might go out and leave you girls to it.’

‘As you like. We can manage without you.’

‘Is she coming here for supper?’

‘Well, naturally. She’s coming straight from work. She’s bringing something to drink.’

‘Tell you what. I’ll stay until we’ve eaten and then I’ll bugger off down the pub.’

‘It’s karaoke night.’

‘All the better.’

‘I thought you liked Nicola.’

‘She’s a sweetheart.’

‘So?’

‘I just don’t like women going on and on.’

‘Exactly what do you mean by that?’

‘You know. On and on. Complaining. Usually about a man.’

‘If only there were never any occasion to.’

‘Come, now. You don’t hear us men going on and on.’

‘You have no occasion to.’

‘Can it really be as simple as that?’

‘Possibly not. Well, that’s interesting, isn’t it. The thing that’s wrong with women is that they go on and on, and the thing that’s wrong with men is that they don’t.’

‘Do you think I should do my Joe Cocker number tonight, or that Bryan Ferry one?’

‘Honestly, Geoff. This is no time for joking. Nicola might be in real trouble.’

‘Not her. That chic little Nothing Hill set-up with the deluxe plumbing and the stuffed shirt laying down the old claret. No way. She probably just wants some help with her vol-au-vents.’

‘Geoffrey: you are an idiot. I think you’d really better make yourself scarce tonight after all. Do the Joe Cocker. Now bugger off and let me get some work done.’

Susannah worked from home, and Geoffrey was a lecturer at a former polytechnic, so between them they just managed to service the mortgage on a house in Clapham which they had bought before the neighbourhood became quasi-fashionable. They had one clever child; they could not afford another. Later on that day Susannah gave Geoffrey a shopping list and he went to Sainsbury’s and got everything in, plus some caramels.

‘What’s this?’ said Susannah, unpacking.

‘Caramels.’

‘What for?’

‘For you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, why not?’

‘Why?’

‘A token of my esteem.’

‘Oh, I wish.’

‘And my love, admiration, gratitude, etcetera.’

‘Oh, yeah. Want one?’

‘Well, since you ask. Just one.’

The clever child, a boy of nine, at this moment came home from school. ‘Cor!’ he said. ‘You’re eating sweets! Cor!’

‘Well, we’ve been good today,’ said his father.

‘So what else is new?’ said the child, whose name was Guy.

‘Give me a kiss,’ said his mother. ‘Alright,’ said Guy, and obliged. ‘Want one?’ she asked, offering the caramels. He took one. ‘Do you want to see my poem?’ he asked them. He was invited to read it to them, and did so. ‘Cor!’ said Susannah. ‘That’s really whizzy. Well done!’ ‘I wish I could write like that,’ said Geoffrey. He meant it, too: any adult might have wished as much. But there you were.