Читать книгу William Walker’s First Year of Marriage: A Horror Story - Matt Rudd - Страница 82

Step one: find note from Isabel. ‘Will miss you, darling. Vegetables in fridge need to be used. And there’s still some quiche left. Love you. Call later.’

Step two: feel quite tired. Can’t face cooking or eating of vegetables. Have a Scotch and dry. And another. Decide to have a curry. Fortunately, the curry house number is still on speed-dial seven, right between the video shop and the laundrette. I am asked if I’ve been on holiday when I give my name and ask for the usual. ‘No, no, just married,’ I reply. ‘Ahh,’ comes the reply. ‘Extra poppadums for you, sir.’

Step three: leave the flat and walk down the street to the curry house. It is the walk of a free man. Nelson Mandela had his Long Walk to Freedom. I have my Short Walk to Memories of Bengal. Put vegetables and leftover quiche (evidence) in bin between flat and curry house.

Step four: video store adjacent to curry house. To kill time while waiting for chicken madras (‘hot like in the olden days, sir?’), nip in. Plan is to rent one film with explosions and car chases, but they have a Rent Two, Get One Free offer and it’s only 7.45 p.m. So I rent two films with explosions and car chases and a PlayStation zombie shoot ’em up.

Step five: I have absolutely no idea how it got to 4 a.m. Still playing zombie shoot ’em up. Still haven’t switched the light on. Have escaped the underworld prison and am in the zoo, fighting zombie elephants. Have finished all the beers and almost all the whisky. Definitely don’t want any more to drink but because I am free, free as a bird, I have another one anyway.

Step six: room spin. I love Isabel so much. I love her. I love her. I love her. I don’t want to be alone any more. This sofa is comfortable. I might just lie down for a minute before going to bed.