Being Small by Chaz Brenchley Page A

if that was what he wanted. I thought that was how this household worked, that they all deferred to Quin in his decay, because that was what he would expect.
    Let him say, then. One way or another, I expected to sing for my supper. I’d be disappointed not to. A bath and a supper left me lagging, in their debt despite the dogwalk; I wanted to go home ahead, netting brownie-points against tomorrow. At the very least, I wanted to feel that I was in the game.
    I thought Quin knew that; I thought I’d get the opportunity.
    ～
    No chess that day. I wanted not to suggest it, not to seem to push my only claim on his company. He might have offered, only that someone else came while the Crumb was still echoing in our heads, in the silence of the
room.
    This guy was in his thirties, and he greeted the two men with a kiss each, me with a friendly nod. His name was Tony; he settled into a chair, saying, “I know I’m early, but I cleared it with Kitty in the kitchen, she’s putting another pint of water in the soup. I’ve had such a day, I couldn’t tell you...”
    “Do try,” Gerard said. Dryly, I thought. Quin gave him a look.
    “Well, I will, but bear with me. I’m good for nothing. It started at eight, can you believe it? Eight o’clock in the morning, and this client calls up in a tizz. On the mobile, if you please, I could have been anywhere with anyone and doing anything; and she knows I’m never myself before midday. Oh, you bitch, I thought, take your mind off your dick for one minute and think about someone else’s, can’t you? But no, she has to be serviced, then and there. So I’m down to the office with nothing inside me but a cold swill of last night’s coffee, and we have a crisis meeting over what’s really not a crisis at all, she’s just getting antsy about the numbers. Well, some people do get scared when you get into seven figures. So I crunch them up for her, and she goes home happy, and I really wish I could have done the same; only by then there were three appointments waiting, and...”
    And cutting through all the words and all the posturing, he was a high-powered accountant whose day had been much like most of his days, I thought, except that he was making an exhibition of it to amuse Quin, or possibly himself. I felt excluded, redundant, resentful; and was already on my feet and making an awkward exit, trying to pretend I was browsing the bookshelves for simple interest’s sake and hey look, the books were leading me out into the passage when he produced a paper from his shoulder-bag and said, “And I didn’t even get to finish the crossword, for God’s sake! You’ll help, won’t you? Listen, R blank E blank S and three blanks –”
    “Rheostat,” I said, before he could read out the clue. And made my exit on the word, far more dynamically, and closed the door behind me without looking back and only hoping that I was right, so that he could mutter, “Rheostat, rheostat... God, he’s right, you know, he is right. Has he done the Guardian already? He must have, mustn’t he? Did you do it here? And who is that boy, anyway...?”
    And then let them say what they liked, I couldn’t hear it. I was in the kitchen, helping Kit.
    ～
    Helping is a flexible concept. I asked if there was anything I could do; he threw the question straight back at me. “I don’t know. Is there anything you can do?”
    “Not much,” despite my sterling efforts to teach my mother how to cook for me. You can’t teach what you don’t know.
    “Fair enough. There’s no room for two anyway, unless they’re lovers. Even then, this kitchen can lead to divorce. I’ve seen it happen. You feed the hound, then sit in the offshoot with the door open and we’ll talk like Pyramus and Thisbe. Get yourself a refill before you go. In the corner there, chef’s perks. Easy on the gin, mind, there’s wine later. Did Tony scare you out?”
    “Not scare, but...”
    “...But he came on too strong for your tender