The Collected Stories

‘I couldn’t find anything. I had some chocolate.’

‘I telephoned to see how you were.’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘I wanted to hear your voice.’

‘Oh come off it. It’s just a voice.’

‘Shall I tell you about it?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t know why.’

‘Shall we meet some time?’

‘I’m sure we shall.’

‘I’ll ring you when I’m sober.’

‘Do that. I must get back to Adam Bede.’

‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye.’

I replaced the receiver and stood there looking down the steep stairs. Then I descended them.

‘What on earth shall we do now?’ Swann said. ‘It’s four o’clock.’

‘I want to talk to Mike,’ Margo announced. ‘Nobody’s to listen.’

I sat beside her and she began to speak in a limping whisper. ‘I want your advice about Nigel, Mike.’

‘Honestly, I scarcely know him.’

‘Doesn’t matter. Look, I think there’s something the matter with Nigel.’

I asked her to be specific. Instead she turned her assertion into a question. ‘Mike, do you think there’s something wrong with Nigel?’

‘Well –’

‘Be frank now.’

‘I tell you, I don’t know him. For all I know he may have an artificial stomach.’

‘Nigel hasn’t an artificial stomach, actually.’

‘Good.’

‘I don’t know why you should think that about him. He doesn’t even have trouble with his stomach.’

‘Well, then, what’s the matter with the man?’

‘I think he’s probably mental.’

‘Well, for God’s sake get him attended to, Margo.’

‘You think I should?’

‘Certainly I do. Unless you like his being mental.’

Margo giggled. She said:

‘He’s taken to doing such odd things. I mean, I don’t know where this is going to stop.’

‘Odd things like what?’

‘Like bringing home elderly women. He comes in with these women, explaining that he has been attending some meeting with them and has brought them back for coffee. It’s quite alarming – Nigel with four or five old ladies trailing behind him. They stay for ages. I’ve no idea where he gets them from. I think he imagines he’s being kind.’

‘What does Nigel say?’

‘He says they haven’t finished their meeting. They just sit around writing little notes. Nobody says anything.’

‘I think it’s all very interesting. I’m sure there’s some quite simple explanation. I don’t think you’ve really investigated the matter, Margo.’

‘Let’s leave this place,’ Swann said.

We went to another place, called the Blue Goat. It was one of those clubs where you can drink in the afternoon without having to watch striptease. Margo tried to go on about Nigel, but I said firmly that I didn’t want to hear anything more about Nigel. I talked to Jo.

‘Jo,’ I said, ‘do you know a girl called Lucy Anstruth?’

‘Small, plump, balding a little?’

‘No. Lucy is a very beautiful person.’

‘Not the same girl.’

‘Tall, fair, very blue eyes. Moves like a cat.’

‘Don’t know her.’