Paul Murray - An Evening of Long Goodbyes

‘Sorry to interrupt, would anyone like some, ah, Rigbert’s? It’s made from genuine loganberries…’

‘Weren’t you scared?’ Laura gushed.

‘Nah, we go straight in, dujj , bop — it was over in a few minutes.’ He sat back, sipped at his Rigbert’s, and with a Napoleonic air sniffed, ‘I don’t think we’ll be hearing from that particular cunt again.’

‘Aren’t you amazing ,’ Bel teased, tickling his elbow. Frank looked annoyed.

‘But what if he comes after you?’ it suddenly occurred to Laura, bringing a fearful hand to her mouth.

‘He wouldn’t dare,’ Frank snorted, ‘cos if he did, he knows I’d just kick his head in again, only even worse.’

Laura responded with a long-drawn-out ‘Wow…’ as if she were melting. It was quite erotic in spite of her and I experienced a brief flash of jealousy.

‘Livin with his Granny,’ he remarked contemptuously, ‘what a cunt.’

‘Charles, where on earth did you get this?’ Bel’s face scrunched up in disgust. ‘It’s absolutely repulsive .’

‘It was down in the cellar. I think it was a gift from that poisonous maiden aunt of Mother’s, the one who lives in a boathouse.’

‘Something about it tastes horribly wrong .’

‘I’d imagine that’s the “dash of wild rhubarb”. I thought it might be a change — anyway, these two’ll hardly notice.’ I nodded at our guests, who were talking intently, foreheads nearly touching. ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’

Bel laughed scornfully. ‘It would be like being jealous,’ she said, ‘of a sack of polystyrene chips.’

‘Mmm.’ I folded my hands and cast a wistful glance at the sack of polystyrene chips I had so failed to bring to life. ‘So where were you this evening? Did you help firebomb that unfortunate’s house?’

‘ Charles ,’ she waved her hand impatiently, ‘I wish you’d just stop exaggerating everything like that —’

‘Well he said …’

‘Oh, he’s as bad as you, he’s only trying to impress that nitwit. He makes half of it up, it’s just a silly boys’ game that sooner or later they’ll get bored with and forget about.’

‘The thing about Titanic ,’ Laura said, ‘is that it has something for everyone.’

Bel withdrew her arm from Frank and, with a woeful pretence at sisterly concern, shuffled her chair over to me. ‘So,’ she whispered, ‘is she everything you hoped she’d be?’

‘Don’t, Bel, I’ve suffered enough for one evening.’

‘Has it been that bad?’ Bel asked, attempting to conceal her amusement.

‘It’s been catastrophic. I mean, at least he is colourful in a delinquent sort of way. She ’s like a valium overdose.’

‘Is she what you’d call a Golem, then?’

‘She’s a Golem Team Leader,’ I said sorrowfully.

‘She does seem to’ve gotten worse since I last saw her,’ Bel mused. ‘All the same, Charles, you did bring this on yourself. I mean this is what happens when you pick your girlfriends out of school annuals.’

‘She really did photograph well…’

‘That’s exactly why — thanks, Mrs P,’ as Mrs P bussed in, stacked up the dishes in one hand and left again in one swift motion, ‘but that’s exactly why you need to get out into the real world and see people, do things —’

I made an indistinct mumble, picturing myself wandering the desert scrubs of Chile with a plastic tiara and an Improving Book –

‘Seriously, because Charles it just won’t work out, falling in love with people simply because they’re good-looking, or because they’re named after Gene Tierney movies.’

‘It’s as good a reason as any,’ I objected, suddenly feeling emotional. ‘Anyway, what if for some people the real world just doesn’t feel right, and they know it won’t ever feel right, surely it’s better for everybody if those people just stay out of the way, and, and…’

I realized I was perspiring, and that I must have been talking loudly. Frank was drawing some kind of a map for Laura, which they seemed too engrossed in to have overheard; but Bel regarded me thoughtfully, a little like she had the night we found out about the bank. My head swam. I downed the rest of my Rigbert’s, embarrassed.

‘… join a monastery?’ she finished my sentence for me.

‘Presumably there’s some kind of Michelin guide for monasteries…’

‘There’s Baker’s Corner,’ Frank pointed to the salt cellar, ‘and here’s Kill Lane, this sauce bottle, right? So Ziggy’s is here, up next to the Texaco. Last time we were there me and this bloke Droyd, right, he had fourteen yokes and I had eleven —’

‘My boyfriend was going to run that Texaco,’ Laura said sadly.

The long hand of the clock inched towards twelve again. I heard Mrs P going up to bed. By now MacGillycuddy would be installed outside with his camera; outside where I could just make out through the room’s reflection on the glass the shadowy edges of trees.

‘Charles, what happened with you and that Patsy girl?’ Bel drew invisible diagrams with her finger on the tabletop. ‘You really liked her for a while, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, her…’

‘And then you stopped seeing your friends — what happened? Did something happen?’

‘A fling, that’s all that was. Why, you think I should be settling down, do you? Find an heir for my vanished fortune?’

‘Well, you can’t fling for ever, can you? I mean, Charles, it won’t be much fun here on your own…’

As she said it, I could sense a sudden discomfort. She didn’t look up, but her finger moved more quickly over the wood.

I reached for a bottle with an elephant on the label. ‘You never did tell me where you went with Frank today.’

‘If you must know,’ she said coolly, ‘we spent the afternoon looking at flats.’

‘Flats?’ The oysters performed a somersault in my stomach.

‘Yes, we’re going to move in together.’ With an aloof expression she took a sip of the new liqueur, and gagged — ‘what is this?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said faintly. ‘Possibly something to do with elephants.’ Inside my mind everything was whirling like a carousel spun out of control.

‘It’s worse than the other stuff, it’s undrinkable …’ She drank a little more, the fingers of her free hand quivering slightly. ‘Anyhow there’s no point you overreacting. It doesn’t have to be permanent, it’s not like we’re getting married or anything. I have to get out of here and I don’t have any money, so it’s the logical decision.’

‘But… but what…’ I knew there was no point saying this, but I couldn’t stop myself: ‘Bel, what can you possibly see in him?’

She darkened. ‘Look, whatever I say you’ll persist in seeing him as a monster. But he’s not . He’s a person , he’s sweet and he’s kind and he doesn’t pretend to be anything he isn’t, and furthermore he has nothing to do with this place, or with Holy Child or Trinity or with Mother or Father or any of their friends —’

Words and feeling welled up in me: I ached to tell her everything — not just about the stolen chair and the menorah and what had happened to the cellar, but about Chile and MacGillycuddy and the Folly and Patsy Olé — but I knew no matter what I said, it wouldn’t change her mind. Bel’s attitude to my advice was to consider it carefully in order to work out the exact opposite course of action and then do it.

‘It’s got a sunroof,’ Laura was saying, ‘but some day I’d love to get one of those jeeps, you know, like a Mitsubishi Pajero.’

‘It’s just that you have your whole life, and —’