A Choice of Enemies by Mordecai Richler Page B

as the deal came through I got in touch with Boris Jeremy and told him I had a sensational story for him. He liked the story but was a bit wary of having me do the shooting-script until I told him that I was doing one for Winkleman. My contract with Jeremy is now being drawn up. On the strength of these two contracts I went to see Cameo Productions and got three
Sir Galahad
scripts to do. Armed with all this I went to see my bank manager and there below –” Charlie tapped the window – “is the afterbirth. A month from now I’ll trade it in and get me a new Jag.”
    Norman responded as best he could to Charlie’s febrile talk at lunch. He was alarmed because Joey, who usually acted as a brake at times like these, seemed to be even more excited than Charlie. But he could understand. It was hell to be a failure’s wife in the
émigré
colony.
    “Hey,” Charlie said, “I got a letter from Tommy Hale this morning. He heard that I had to leave the States and wants me to come back to Toronto. There’s loads of work there, he says. But here’s one guy who doesn’t want to be a whale in that little fish pond. No CBC panel games for me, Norman. I’ll make it here or nowhere.”
    Norman nodded and told them they could keep the flat for a while. He was happy where he was.
    “Have you seen Sally yet?” Joey asked.
    “It’s all right,” Norman said. “I know about the German boy.”
    “It’s a shame. I thought that she was such a nice kid.”
    But Joey kicked Charlie under the table and he quickly changed the subject. “What are you hoarding all that wood in the cupboard for?” he asked.
    Norman explained that he had bought the boards because he intended to build a bookcase. Charlie offered to do the job for him, but Norman said no, he was going to get a carpenter to do it.
    “I think I’d better be going,” Norman said.
    Joey offered to walk with him for a bit. Outside, they wandered up to Notting Hill Gate.
    “I’m happy for Charlie,” Norman said.
    Joey hooked her arm through his.
    “Me too. This all means so much to him,” Joey paused. “I was just about ready to accept a typing job from Bob Landis. And you know what
typing
for
him
means.”
    “Bob’s a boy,” Norman said affectionately. “He wants to make every woman he meets.”
    “And you?”
    Norman’s face darkened.
    “ O.K .,” Joey said gaily, “I won’t tease.” But she stopped him short in front of a smart lingerie shop. “There,” she said, pointing out a wooden blonde in the window warmed by a lacy black negligée, “why doesn’t anyone buy
me
something like that?”
    “Joey,” he said, as they walked on again, “do you think I’m a prude?”
    Joey laughed. Her laughter spread. She held her hand to her mouth as though her laughter, like an egg, might fall and break, and all at once she was serious again.
    “No,” she said, “but if you ever let yourself go I’m sure you’ll be worse than Bob.”
    “I’m tired of being a bum, Joey. I want to get married and have children.”
    She tightened. “So does Charlie. He wants kids too, I mean.”
    “I’m sorry, sweetie. No crack was intended.”
    “I know,” Joey said, angry with herself. “Oh, why must it always be so hard for two friends to talk without apologizing to each other every second minute?” She reached up and straightened Norman’s raincoat collar. Her smile was rich in tender concern. “Norman,” she asked, “did you ever tell Sally how you felt about her?”
    “I told you,” he said sharply, “she was just a – a girl to me.”
    “Oh, Norman, really!”
    He stooped and kissed her gently on the forehead. “See you,” he said. “God bless.”
    “If you want her that badly,” Joey called after him, “then put up a fight.”
    When Norman got home Karp was waiting on his bed. He held a half-stripped banana in a little hand. One of his cheeks was swollen, like he had a bad tooth.
    “How did you get in?” Norman asked.
    Karp stretched out an