sudden change, and I want you to come back and see me in three weeks’ time. Make an appointment before you go. And—” she hesitates ”—do you think James would come too?”
I am startled by this. “You want us to come together?”
“Yes, if he’s willing. Do you mind?”
I don’t know. “I’ll ask him,” I say.
I go out and find James reading Woman’s Own, so I sit down next to him. “I’ve got to come back in three weeks, and she wants you to come too.”
“Me?” He looks alarmed. “Why should I come?”
I shrug. Isn’t it obvious? “We have to make the appointment now.”
I wait while he goes up to the receptionist.
“Kitty,” he says as he comes back to where I am sitting, “why do I have to go?”
“She probably thinks you’re interested.”
“Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I have to go with you. You know how I feel about doctors. They remind me of my childhood.”
“Nobody’s going to force you. It’s up to you.” I don’t want to get up and go out to Adrian in his smart car. “Why don’t we sneak out the back way?”
“But Adrian’s waiting for us.”
“We could phone him on his mobile when we get home.”
James frowns. “I don’t think we should antagonize him.”
Adrian is sitting with his windows closed, and his eyes closed,listening to Bach on his CD-player. I open the door and get into the back seat. “There,” I say. “That’s my part of the deal. Now you work on yours.”
“What did she say?” I can see his eyes watching me briefly in his mirror, before he pulls out into the passing traffic.
“She gave me a prescription and I’ve got to go back in three weeks.”
He nods approvingly. “We’ll stop at the chemist’s on the way back then.”
We drive along in silence. James doesn’t look happy.
“By the way,” says Adrian into the silence, “I phoned Jake. Suzy isn’t pregnant. She has a tummy bug.”
A knot reties itself inside me. I think of Suzy’s sickness. I know I’m right. Why is nobody admitting it?
3
a good silence
T he telephone wakes me from a deep sleep and I hear the answer machine: “Kitty? It’s Caroline. Where are you? I’ve been ringing you for days.”
I pick up the receiver and interrupt her message. “Sorry, Caroline. I haven’t been well.”
“You shouldn’t cut yourself off completely. What if there was an emergency?”
“Do you mean my emergency, or someone else’s emergency, which I am expected to attend?” I can’t think of a single situation that could arise. I experienced my only emergency three years ago, and there’s no chance of that happening again.
“Have you read the book?” Caroline does not like to be drawn into personal conversations.
“Of course.” Which book is she talking about? I hold the telephone between my chin and shoulder while I start to scrabble through a pile of manuscripts on the floor.
“What did you think?”
“About what?”
“Well—was it perceptive or was it racist?”
I hold up a manuscript in my hand, entitled Bella the Black Beauty. I think it sounds sexist rather than racist, but I can’t remember reading it. “I’ll send you a report tomorrow.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“No. I really think I should go through it again. I don’t like making quick judgements.”
“Well, all right.” She sounds impressed by my willingness to read it again. “But I must have it back by Friday.”
“No trouble,” I say and ring off. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but I’m ready for some hard work.
I dress quickly and look at myself in the mirror. Not too bad, I think, for an insomniac who has possibly been asleep for days.
The telephone rings again. I pick it up. “Hello, James.”
There is a pause. “Kitty? How did you know it was me?”
Not, how are you? I’ve missed you.
“I guessed.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No. I’ll come to you.” I know he’s sighing with relief, silently, because he’s always
I am startled by this. “You want us to come together?”
“Yes, if he’s willing. Do you mind?”
I don’t know. “I’ll ask him,” I say.
I go out and find James reading Woman’s Own, so I sit down next to him. “I’ve got to come back in three weeks, and she wants you to come too.”
“Me?” He looks alarmed. “Why should I come?”
I shrug. Isn’t it obvious? “We have to make the appointment now.”
I wait while he goes up to the receptionist.
“Kitty,” he says as he comes back to where I am sitting, “why do I have to go?”
“She probably thinks you’re interested.”
“Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I have to go with you. You know how I feel about doctors. They remind me of my childhood.”
“Nobody’s going to force you. It’s up to you.” I don’t want to get up and go out to Adrian in his smart car. “Why don’t we sneak out the back way?”
“But Adrian’s waiting for us.”
“We could phone him on his mobile when we get home.”
James frowns. “I don’t think we should antagonize him.”
Adrian is sitting with his windows closed, and his eyes closed,listening to Bach on his CD-player. I open the door and get into the back seat. “There,” I say. “That’s my part of the deal. Now you work on yours.”
“What did she say?” I can see his eyes watching me briefly in his mirror, before he pulls out into the passing traffic.
“She gave me a prescription and I’ve got to go back in three weeks.”
He nods approvingly. “We’ll stop at the chemist’s on the way back then.”
We drive along in silence. James doesn’t look happy.
“By the way,” says Adrian into the silence, “I phoned Jake. Suzy isn’t pregnant. She has a tummy bug.”
A knot reties itself inside me. I think of Suzy’s sickness. I know I’m right. Why is nobody admitting it?
3
a good silence
T he telephone wakes me from a deep sleep and I hear the answer machine: “Kitty? It’s Caroline. Where are you? I’ve been ringing you for days.”
I pick up the receiver and interrupt her message. “Sorry, Caroline. I haven’t been well.”
“You shouldn’t cut yourself off completely. What if there was an emergency?”
“Do you mean my emergency, or someone else’s emergency, which I am expected to attend?” I can’t think of a single situation that could arise. I experienced my only emergency three years ago, and there’s no chance of that happening again.
“Have you read the book?” Caroline does not like to be drawn into personal conversations.
“Of course.” Which book is she talking about? I hold the telephone between my chin and shoulder while I start to scrabble through a pile of manuscripts on the floor.
“What did you think?”
“About what?”
“Well—was it perceptive or was it racist?”
I hold up a manuscript in my hand, entitled Bella the Black Beauty. I think it sounds sexist rather than racist, but I can’t remember reading it. “I’ll send you a report tomorrow.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“No. I really think I should go through it again. I don’t like making quick judgements.”
“Well, all right.” She sounds impressed by my willingness to read it again. “But I must have it back by Friday.”
“No trouble,” I say and ring off. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but I’m ready for some hard work.
I dress quickly and look at myself in the mirror. Not too bad, I think, for an insomniac who has possibly been asleep for days.
The telephone rings again. I pick it up. “Hello, James.”
There is a pause. “Kitty? How did you know it was me?”
Not, how are you? I’ve missed you.
“I guessed.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No. I’ll come to you.” I know he’s sighing with relief, silently, because he’s always
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