thrust into a lizard-skin vanity-case. When I said this to her she agreed: ‘People are always surprised that I grew up in Harrow.’
Julianne offered to go down the corridor to the kitchen to refill our mugs of coffee. We used to drink it black, because the rooms were too hot for us to keep milk. Lynette tore open the bonbons; leaving the room, Jule scooped up a marzipan peach and thrust it into her cheek. Lynette leant forward. ‘Please, explain to me while she’s out – why does Karina hate her?’
‘No special reason.’
‘Oh.’ Lynette flicked up an eyebrow. ‘Fine. But I notice Julianne can be sharp with her.’
‘Sharp? That’s mild.’ I must have grinned. ‘You know, Julianne’s not what she was. Her character’s softening.’
Lynette selected a sugared almond. ‘Not a pleasant topic, this. I have to say that Karina doesn’t seem to like you either. Not in the least.’
‘I’m not sure we can do anything about that.’ I bounced a little on my bed. ‘Look, Lynette, we’re not in a school story. It’s not Mallory Towers. We don’t have to be . . .’ I groped for the word, ‘ . . . chums.’
‘Of course not. It’s just that I have to live with her.’
‘You do, don’t you? Can’t you apply for a transfer?’
‘No, because who would she find herself sharing with next? You see, I may not be the best person in the world, but I do try to be kind, in so far as one . . .’
‘Why?’ I said. I was examining the world of motives in those days, trying to find for myself a new place in it.
‘Why? I suppose . . . No, I can’t think why.’
‘We always used to be good in hope of eternal reward. And we were told that every time we said an unkind word, it was another thorn in Jesus’ crown. If wecommitted an unkind action, it drove the nails deeper into his wounds. Well, it won’t do, will it? Won’t wash.’
Lynette smiled. ‘Not really. It’s not for grown-ups, is it? I suppose a person . . . a person dislikes confrontation and tries to ease . . . her own way through the world, and that means easing other people’s. Inevitably.’
‘So being kind is a sort of selfishness?’
‘You know the phrase, enlightened self-interest?’
‘I thought it meant money-grubbing.’
‘Sometimes it’s used that way.’ The tip of her tongue touched the vanilla-cream centre of a dark chocolate. Julianne was coming back down the corridor, her feet squelching on the parquet. ‘Karina’s unhappiness is no profit to anyone. And I’m afraid that if she got a new roommate she might be treated worse than I allow myself to treat her.’ She closed her eyes. ‘It’s just that. That’s all.’
Jule handed around the coffee. ‘I see we’re on the perennial topic.’ Her fingers dipped into the Fortnum’s box. ‘Lynette, you must try to understand that though I know Karina I don’t know her. She comes from a social background quite alien to me in every way, and at school if I spoke to her once a year it was as much.’
Lynette laughed, a small gurgle of sarcastic joy. ‘What a snob you are, Lipcott, I didn’t think – ’
‘That we had them in Lancashire?’ Julianne said coolly. She licked a sugar crystal from her lower lip. ‘Anyway, don’t ask me about her, ask Carmel. Carmel’s known her since they were at infant school.’
Lynette turned to me. A miniature Florentine was poised at her painted lips. ‘Well?’
‘Yes, I knew her.’
‘She was your friend?’
‘Not really.’
‘So what did you do to her?’
I thought for a moment. ‘I kicked her baby,’ I said. I glanced up and saw their two faces side by side, gazing at me in uncomprehending shock.
I didn’t explain. Or only lamely and partially. Why should I? I had, by this stage of the term, very few words to spare; they were all going into my letters to Niall. And yet the proximity of Karina, the sight of her stumping out into the London traffic and dirt, the presence of her name in our mouths – all these
Julianne offered to go down the corridor to the kitchen to refill our mugs of coffee. We used to drink it black, because the rooms were too hot for us to keep milk. Lynette tore open the bonbons; leaving the room, Jule scooped up a marzipan peach and thrust it into her cheek. Lynette leant forward. ‘Please, explain to me while she’s out – why does Karina hate her?’
‘No special reason.’
‘Oh.’ Lynette flicked up an eyebrow. ‘Fine. But I notice Julianne can be sharp with her.’
‘Sharp? That’s mild.’ I must have grinned. ‘You know, Julianne’s not what she was. Her character’s softening.’
Lynette selected a sugared almond. ‘Not a pleasant topic, this. I have to say that Karina doesn’t seem to like you either. Not in the least.’
‘I’m not sure we can do anything about that.’ I bounced a little on my bed. ‘Look, Lynette, we’re not in a school story. It’s not Mallory Towers. We don’t have to be . . .’ I groped for the word, ‘ . . . chums.’
‘Of course not. It’s just that I have to live with her.’
‘You do, don’t you? Can’t you apply for a transfer?’
‘No, because who would she find herself sharing with next? You see, I may not be the best person in the world, but I do try to be kind, in so far as one . . .’
‘Why?’ I said. I was examining the world of motives in those days, trying to find for myself a new place in it.
‘Why? I suppose . . . No, I can’t think why.’
‘We always used to be good in hope of eternal reward. And we were told that every time we said an unkind word, it was another thorn in Jesus’ crown. If wecommitted an unkind action, it drove the nails deeper into his wounds. Well, it won’t do, will it? Won’t wash.’
Lynette smiled. ‘Not really. It’s not for grown-ups, is it? I suppose a person . . . a person dislikes confrontation and tries to ease . . . her own way through the world, and that means easing other people’s. Inevitably.’
‘So being kind is a sort of selfishness?’
‘You know the phrase, enlightened self-interest?’
‘I thought it meant money-grubbing.’
‘Sometimes it’s used that way.’ The tip of her tongue touched the vanilla-cream centre of a dark chocolate. Julianne was coming back down the corridor, her feet squelching on the parquet. ‘Karina’s unhappiness is no profit to anyone. And I’m afraid that if she got a new roommate she might be treated worse than I allow myself to treat her.’ She closed her eyes. ‘It’s just that. That’s all.’
Jule handed around the coffee. ‘I see we’re on the perennial topic.’ Her fingers dipped into the Fortnum’s box. ‘Lynette, you must try to understand that though I know Karina I don’t know her. She comes from a social background quite alien to me in every way, and at school if I spoke to her once a year it was as much.’
Lynette laughed, a small gurgle of sarcastic joy. ‘What a snob you are, Lipcott, I didn’t think – ’
‘That we had them in Lancashire?’ Julianne said coolly. She licked a sugar crystal from her lower lip. ‘Anyway, don’t ask me about her, ask Carmel. Carmel’s known her since they were at infant school.’
Lynette turned to me. A miniature Florentine was poised at her painted lips. ‘Well?’
‘Yes, I knew her.’
‘She was your friend?’
‘Not really.’
‘So what did you do to her?’
I thought for a moment. ‘I kicked her baby,’ I said. I glanced up and saw their two faces side by side, gazing at me in uncomprehending shock.
I didn’t explain. Or only lamely and partially. Why should I? I had, by this stage of the term, very few words to spare; they were all going into my letters to Niall. And yet the proximity of Karina, the sight of her stumping out into the London traffic and dirt, the presence of her name in our mouths – all these
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