“Then all these stories about Edinburgh being full of icy types are false?”
“Absolutely,” said Angus frostily.
Domenica was not convinced, but she did not want to get involved at that moment in a discussion about the mores of Edinburgh; she had other news to impart to Angus.
“Yes,” she said. “Developments seem to be occurring at a frightening rate. And here am I with somebody else coming to live with me. No sooner have I dispatched Antonia, than I hear from my aunt that she would like to come and spend a few months in Edinburgh with me.”
“How nice for you,” said Angus. “Company, and so on.”
“Yes,” said Domenica. “I don’t begrudge her the visit. It’s just that she belongs to a generation that was used to paying rather long visits. We think in terms of three days; they thought nothing of descending on people for three months.” She paused.
“And she’s virtually one hundred years old; ninety-six I think.
But remarkably sprightly.”
“Then she will have a great deal to talk about,” said Angus.
“A lot will have happened in those ninety-six years.”
“Indeed,” said Domenica. “We can expect to hear a great deal about it.”
“Do I detect a certain lack of enthusiasm?” asked Angus.
“Well . . .”
“Because I would love to have somebody like that stay with me,” said Angus. “You should be more appreciative, Domenica.”
Domenica thought for a moment. “All right,” she said. “She can stay with you, Angus. Thank you for the offer.”
Angus looked flustered. “But I’m not sure that she would approve of my lifestyle,” he said. “You know . . .”
“My aunt is very tolerant,” said Domenica. “So thank you, Angus, it really is very kind of you.”
“No, Domenica. Sorry. She’s your responsibility. Blood is thicker than whisky.”
“Whisky?”
“Why, thank you,” said Angus.
it was ten minutes’ walk from the Grange – and well-reviewed by a normally picky critic.
He was at the table when she arrived. He appeared to be studying one of the spoons, but he was really looking at his reflection in the silver. The concave shape distorted him, but even taking that into account, Matthew felt that it captured the essential him. And the problem with that was that the essential him, he thought, was nothing special. I really have nothing to offer this girl, he told himself; me, with my distressed-oatmeal sweater – a failure – and my crushed-strawberry trousers –
another failure – and my Macgregor tartan underpants. I just don’t have it.
She slipped out of her coat. “You’ve been waiting for ages?
I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said. “Five minutes. If that.” He stood up to greet her, and she kissed him on the cheek. She did not always do that, and he flushed with pleasure. Matthew wanted this to work; he thought that it would not, but he wanted it.
“I’m going to order champagne,” he said impulsively. He might be a failure, but he was a failure with more than four million three hundred thousand pounds (the market was doing well). “Would you like that?”
140
He smiled. “Meeting you here. Being with you.”
He stopped. Did that sound corny? Nobody said that sort of thing, he thought. But he had said it spontaneously; he had meant it, and now, to his relief, he saw her return his smile.
“That’s a very sweet thing to say, Matthew. Thank you.”
He felt emboldened. “Well, I meant it. I like being with you.
I like you so much, you see. So much.”
She looked down at the table. I’ve embarrassed her, he thought.
I should not have said that. She doesn’t want to be liked by me.
“I like you too, Matthew.”
Well, he thought, that’s something. But how much did she like him? As much as he liked her? As much as she had liked Wolf? Or Bruce for that matter? Or was that a different sort of liking? Wolf and Bruce were sexy; they dripped with sexual appeal, if one can drip with such a thing. Dripping came into it somewhere, but Matthew was not sure where and did not like to think about it really, about the things that he did not have.
