Jonathan Coe - Number 11

‘Queueing up to work here tonight, people were,’ Selena continued. ‘I was lucky to be chosen.’

‘Mm,’ said Josephine, not listening.

‘My girlfriend applied, too. But they didn’t want her.’

‘Really.’

‘Shame, ’cos she was hoping, with all these art people here, she might have met someone useful, you know?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You write for the papers, don’t you?’

‘Who told you that?’

‘One of the girls in the kitchen. I never read the papers these days, to be honest. Too depressing.’

‘Yes, well, I don’t write about art, so if you want any favours you’re wasting your time.’

‘Sure. Whatever.’ Selena fell silent, but not for long. ‘She’s really talented, though.’

‘Sorry, who?’

‘My girlfriend. She does portraits. Mainly of homeless people.’

‘How very fascinating and … worthy of her.’

‘But not ordinary portraits. She makes them pose to look like —’

‘You’re right, it is chilly out here. I think I’ll go back inside.’

‘Look, don’t get me wrong. My friend isn’t looking for help. She knows there are no short cuts. She knows you have to be tough in this business. She can cope with being knocked back a few times, you know what I mean?’

‘Well, look, it’s been a blast talking to you. Goodbye.’

‘She’s a strong girl, my Alison. Very strong. I mean, you have to be, to deal with some of the stuff she’s been through.’

‘I’m so glad to hear that. Now —’

‘Only having one leg, for instance. I mean, how many people could handle something like that?’

‘Great. She sounds like a real trouper.’ Josephine was halfway through the library’s main entrance when the meaning of Selena’s words suddenly came home to her. She turned round at once. ‘What did you just say?’

‘I said she was a strong girl.’

‘Not that.’

‘And really talented.’

‘Did you say she only had one leg?’

Selena noticed the change in Josephine’s manner. She nodded slowly.

‘That’s right.’

Josephine came closer.

‘And this is your … girlfriend , right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Girlfriend — as in someone you … someone you’re … in a relationship with?’

‘We sleep together, yeah.’

‘So you’re lesbians.’

‘Um … yeah,’ said Selena, thinking that she had already made this fairly obvious.

‘And is she … like you?’

‘Like me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I don’t know. We’re quite different personality types, really. I’m Taurus, for one thing, and she’s Gemini …’

‘No — I mean, is she black as well?’

‘Ah.’ Christ, this woman is blunt, Selena thought. But she’d caught her interest, for some reason, and she was going to make the most of it. ‘Yes, she is.’

‘And does she have a job, your friend? Apart from the painting, I mean.’

‘No. Neither of us have, since we finished our course.’

‘I don’t suppose … I don’t suppose she’s on benefits of any sort?’

‘Well, yeah, we couldn’t survive otherwise. There’s the housing benefit, the disability allowance …’

She tailed off, and gave Josephine what she hoped was an appealing smile. To her surprise, the smile was returned.

‘Your girlfriend,’ Josephine said, ‘sounds absolutely amazing. ’

‘Could you write something about her, do you think?’

‘Yes, I think I could.’

‘Wow,’ said Selena. ‘ Wow . Just wait till she hears that you said that.’

Josephine held up her hand in a cautionary gesture. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think you should tell her anything yet. If you can bear it, this is going to be our little secret for now.’ She put a hand on Selena’s arm. ‘You can keep a secret, can’t you? Good. Now — let’s have another cigarette.’

*

‘You missed all the excitement,’ said Sir Peter, as Josephine returned to the table. ‘They awarded the prize five minutes ago.’

‘Really?’ she said, stifling a yawn. ‘I don’t even know what was on the shortlist.’

‘Everyone thought it would go to the Hilton Humanitarian Prize this year. Either that, or the Mo Ibrahim Prize for Achievement in African Leadership.’

‘So which one was it?’

‘Neither. They gave it to the Literary Review Bad Sex Award.’

‘Great!’ said Josephine. ‘Another triumph for the Brits.’

‘Exactly. Being embarrassed about sex is one of the few things we’re still world leaders at, these days.’

He drained his wine glass quickly, and signalled for a refill. Josephine wondered how many glasses he’d got through while she’d been outside. She also wondered whether to tell him that, thanks to her conversation with Selena, she now knew that he’d been wrong to criticize her column that time, and soon she would be able to present him with living proof. But she decided to keep it to herself for a while longer.

‘Your man made a fucking awful speech,’ Sir Peter said. ‘Didn’t get a single laugh. Don’t think anyone here had the faintest idea what he was on about.’

‘Did he mention us?’

‘Oh yes. Made sure he gave the whole family a good kicking.’

‘The cheek! I hope you’re not going to let him get away with it.’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Sir Peter. He picked up an unused steak knife from his table and began thoughtfully stroking its serrated edge. ‘I have plans for Mr Quirky. In fact, I’m going to discuss them with him now.’

Still holding the knife, Sir Peter attempted to rise to his feet, but he was very much the worse for drink and it took nothing more than Josephine’s restraining hand to keep him in his chair.

‘I don’t think this is really the place to cause a scene.’

‘There won’t be any scene,’ said Sir Peter, breathing heavily. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do to that fucker.’ He fixed her with a bug-eyed, resolute glare. ‘I’m going to offer him a job.’

‘You’re going to do what ?’

‘You heard me. I’m going to take him on as a columnist.’

‘Oh, sit down, you’re completely pissed.’

‘I may be pissed but I know what I’m talking about. You don’t attack your enemies, if you really want to hurt them. You co-opt them. “Hey, Ryan,” we’ll say, “come and join us. No hard feelings, old boy. Love your schtick. Come and do a bit of work for us.” We chuck him a couple of hundred grand a year for a thousand words a week and then everyone sees he’s writing for us and thinks we can’t be so nasty after all. We look good, and he looks bad. We keep him on for eighteen months and give him a couple of pay rises. By then he’s lost most of his teeth and he’s hardly being rude about us at all. But he has pissed off quite a few of his fans. And then we kick him out on the street — bam! — and watch how he copes with having his income, which in a short space of time he’s become thoroughly comfortable with, slashed by about eighty per cent.’ He smiled at his daughter and relished the way she was staring at him, open-mouthed with admiration. Sir Peter’s eyes gleamed. ‘So now, if you’d just help a doddery old cunt to his feet, I’m going to get the wheels moving.’

Josephine did indeed take his arm and raise him carefully out of his chair. Then Sir Peter started to take a few slow, erratic steps towards table number 11. Whether it was because he was becoming forgetful, or because he was rather drunk, or a combination of the two, he was still wielding the steak knife, held at a decidedly aggressive angle, as he approached the unsuspecting figure of Ryan Quirky, who was deep in conversation with a young female admirer in a low-cut dress. But Sir Peter never got as far as the comedian’s table anyway. Before he knew what was happening, he felt his arm politely but firmly seized by a burly, middle-aged man flanked by four or five similar-looking guests, who blocked his path and formed a rapid, protective circle around him.