Читать книгу The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf - Martin Millar - Страница 17
Оглавление“I’ve never been lucky in romance,” admitted Thrix. “I got off to a bad start. The first disaster happened when I was nine years old.”
The Fire Queen leaned forward eagerly. “Really? Tell me all about it.”
“I had a crush on Bobby MacPhee. He sat next to me in class. He had spiky black hair. I was fascinated by it. And he gave me sweets at playtime.”
Malveria nodded sagely. “A young Lothario, with his fascinating hair and generous ways. I can see the attraction.”
“He was a popular werewolf,” agreed Thrix. “All the girls at the castle liked him. But I had an advantage, sitting next to him in class. He asked if I’d like to meet up some time.”
“For a date?”
“Well, sort of. A nine-year-old date.”
“Excellent,” said Malveria. “The other girls at the castle must have bristled with anger. What happened?”
“One evening when the full moon was out, Bobby shouted up at my window, asking if I wanted to come out. Which I did, obviously. For a play fight.”
The Fire Queen was surprised. “A fight? Surely an odd choice for your first date? Was there no restaurant nearby?”
“Well, when werewolf children go out as werewolves, they have a lot of play-fights. It’s normal behavior.”
Thrix frowned, remembering the occasion. “Unfortunately, I got carried away and almost severed his jugular vein. If Doctor Angus hadn’t been visiting the castle, poor Bobby would have bled to death.”
“Ah.” Malveria nodded. “I take it the romance did not continue?”
“Bobby’s parents told my mother if I ever went near him again they’d make a formal complaint to Baron MacPhee. It was all very embarrassing. But really, I didn’t know I was that powerful. We were strong children, the Thane’s family.” Thrix sighed. “I spent the next few years being called the ‘blonde bully’ by the other werewolves in class. I never had another date at school.”
Malveria sipped from her glass of red wine. “But did you not once mention you’d had a teenage romance with an older werewolf?”
Thrix screwed up her face. “Only because I’d had too much to drink.”
“Tell me all about it.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Of course,” said Malveria. “But tell me about it anyway. You are quite diverting me from my previous unhappiness over the dreadful Kabachetka.”
Thrix filled her wine glass. “His name was John MacAndris. He was an artist. Quite a good artist. He lived in Edinburgh. I really fell for him.”
“Ah.” The Fire Queen nodded. “An artist. They can be alluring, for a while. Was he handsome?”
“Quite handsome. He had this air of . . .” Thrix struggled for the correct description. “Well, he seemed exciting, with his exhibitions, and critics writing reviews in the Scotsman and the Glasgow Herald. I dated him for about three months. I took care to keep it secret. Because my mother wouldn’t have approved, with him being a lot older than me.”
“Did he paint you naked?” asked Malveria eagerly.
Thrix laughed. “No! Why did you ask that?”
“I just thought it might have happened.”
“He was mainly an abstract expressionist. No naked models. Well, not me anyway.”
The Fire Queen was disappointed. “Surely any artist with spirit would have attempted to scandalously paint you naked? One hardly sees the point otherwise.”
“It didn’t take any naked pictures to cause a scandal. I turned up unexpectedly at one of his exhibitions. Unfortunately, his wife did too.”
“His wife? Did you know he was married?”
Thrix looked uncomfortable. “I pretended to everyone afterward that I didn’t. But I did know really. I was only a teenager. I sort of thought it was all right, with him being an artist. I persuaded myself that him having a young lover was probably just normal artistic behavior.” Thrix shuddered. “Apparently it wasn’t. Mind you, I don’t think that his wife traveling all the way from Edinburgh to the castle just to shout abuse at me was normal behavior either.”
Thrix found that she’d finished her wine rather quickly, and refilled both of their glasses.
“It was a huge scandal. There were even suggestions of removing me from the Great Council, though Mother wouldn’t hear of that.” Thrix shook her head. “That was another early romantic trauma. But I was naive. Growing up in Castle MacRinnalch was fine for learning about being a werewolf but it didn’t really prepare you for life outside.”
Thrix looked thoughtful. “It was one reason I left to join Minerva on her mountaintop, to get away from the gossip. Minerva didn’t care one way or the other about affairs or scandals. I appreciated that.”
