find her gone. It was recent, but at the same time, how long ago that evening seemed! ‘I didn’t expect,’ he repeated, ‘that you’d be able to find somewhere else to live just like that, before we’ve even sorted out the money and so on—technically this is still as much your place as it is mine, after all. There’s no need for you to camp out with Susannah.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Obviously you’re right, technically . I’d simply rather.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see.’
‘And now if you’ll excuse me,’ said Nicola, ‘I’m going to bed.’
He stood aside for her and she left the room, and it was now that he saw what was different about it; wrong with it: the mantelpiece was bare; all the dogs were gone.
40
‘Geoffrey, what have you done with the drill?’
‘Why do you want the drill?’
‘So that you can put up that rail.’
‘What rail?’
‘For Nicola’s clothes.’
‘Oh, not that again.’
‘She’ll be here on Saturday.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’m not though.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘So where’s the drill?’
‘Sam’s got it.’
‘ Sam? ’
‘Yes, he borrowed it, a while ago, to put up shelves.’
‘Honestly, you’d think with a whole house to fix up he’d buy his own drill. Pathetic.’
‘Yes, well, there it is.’
‘Well, you’d better get it back, pronto.’
‘I can’t go round there now, I simply can’t .’
‘You don’t have to, Guy can go on his bike. Just ring up and say he’s coming.’
‘Oh, God, must I?’
‘Please. I just want to get this bloody rail sorted out once and for all. Now . Look, I’ll get the number for you. Where’s that address book? Ah, here we are. Now.’
They did the business: Sam was in, thank goodness, because it was his turn to look after baby Chloe while her mother, the not-so-very-fair Helen, worked in an advice centre. Guy was called and sent off to do the errand and within half an hour Geoffrey with loud complaint was at work fixing the rail. The task itself was accomplished in ten minutes flat, it was only the stages leading up to it which had taken up a total of—con servatively—five hours, spread—to be fair—over four days.
‘Shall I take it back to him now?’ said Guy. ‘He said he hadn’t finished with it.’
‘Of all the bloody cheek!’ said Susannah. ‘No you won’t. He can bloody come and get it himself. The very idea!’
‘How long is Nicola going to stay here?’ asked Guy.
‘I don’t know. As long as she likes. Listen. I want you to be very very nice to Nicola when she’s here, okay. Not that you wouldn’t be, but still. She’s feeling rather frail.’
‘Frail. What does that mean?’
‘Fragile.’
‘Like glass?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
‘Might she break?’
‘Yes. In a way.’
‘Cor.’
‘So just be very very nice, so that she doesn’t.’
‘I’ll let her play with my mice.’
‘That’s the ticket.’
‘She can have them in here if she likes.’
‘That might be going a bit far. Just let her play with them, if she wants to. She might not want to.’
‘Oh, she will.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Yes, we’ll see—when’s she coming?’
‘Saturday.’
‘Oh, but that’s when I’ll be at my riding lesson!’
‘So, she’ll be here when you get back.’
‘Whizzy!’
41
She did not know where he might have gone, rising while she still slept and leaving the flat before she had got out of bed: bargain-hunting (some chance) in Portobello Road, or playing squash with some athletic crony, or simply wandering in a stupor of unease around the neighbourhood, up to the Gate, through the park, all the way to Kensington, and even beyond: who knew? He was returning, had already returned, to the secret state of his bachelor existence, before she had met him; all that was wanting was the murk of Crawford Street.
It was eleven o’clock already: she had done almost everything which had been listed under the rubric of ‘last things’ and was anxious to
‘No,’ she said. ‘Obviously you’re right, technically . I’d simply rather.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see.’
‘And now if you’ll excuse me,’ said Nicola, ‘I’m going to bed.’
He stood aside for her and she left the room, and it was now that he saw what was different about it; wrong with it: the mantelpiece was bare; all the dogs were gone.
40
‘Geoffrey, what have you done with the drill?’
‘Why do you want the drill?’
‘So that you can put up that rail.’
‘What rail?’
‘For Nicola’s clothes.’
‘Oh, not that again.’
‘She’ll be here on Saturday.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’m not though.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘So where’s the drill?’
‘Sam’s got it.’
‘ Sam? ’
‘Yes, he borrowed it, a while ago, to put up shelves.’
‘Honestly, you’d think with a whole house to fix up he’d buy his own drill. Pathetic.’
‘Yes, well, there it is.’
‘Well, you’d better get it back, pronto.’
‘I can’t go round there now, I simply can’t .’
‘You don’t have to, Guy can go on his bike. Just ring up and say he’s coming.’
‘Oh, God, must I?’
‘Please. I just want to get this bloody rail sorted out once and for all. Now . Look, I’ll get the number for you. Where’s that address book? Ah, here we are. Now.’
They did the business: Sam was in, thank goodness, because it was his turn to look after baby Chloe while her mother, the not-so-very-fair Helen, worked in an advice centre. Guy was called and sent off to do the errand and within half an hour Geoffrey with loud complaint was at work fixing the rail. The task itself was accomplished in ten minutes flat, it was only the stages leading up to it which had taken up a total of—con servatively—five hours, spread—to be fair—over four days.
‘Shall I take it back to him now?’ said Guy. ‘He said he hadn’t finished with it.’
‘Of all the bloody cheek!’ said Susannah. ‘No you won’t. He can bloody come and get it himself. The very idea!’
‘How long is Nicola going to stay here?’ asked Guy.
‘I don’t know. As long as she likes. Listen. I want you to be very very nice to Nicola when she’s here, okay. Not that you wouldn’t be, but still. She’s feeling rather frail.’
‘Frail. What does that mean?’
‘Fragile.’
‘Like glass?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
‘Might she break?’
‘Yes. In a way.’
‘Cor.’
‘So just be very very nice, so that she doesn’t.’
‘I’ll let her play with my mice.’
‘That’s the ticket.’
‘She can have them in here if she likes.’
‘That might be going a bit far. Just let her play with them, if she wants to. She might not want to.’
‘Oh, she will.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Yes, we’ll see—when’s she coming?’
‘Saturday.’
‘Oh, but that’s when I’ll be at my riding lesson!’
‘So, she’ll be here when you get back.’
‘Whizzy!’
41
She did not know where he might have gone, rising while she still slept and leaving the flat before she had got out of bed: bargain-hunting (some chance) in Portobello Road, or playing squash with some athletic crony, or simply wandering in a stupor of unease around the neighbourhood, up to the Gate, through the park, all the way to Kensington, and even beyond: who knew? He was returning, had already returned, to the secret state of his bachelor existence, before she had met him; all that was wanting was the murk of Crawford Street.
It was eleven o’clock already: she had done almost everything which had been listed under the rubric of ‘last things’ and was anxious to
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