at all. I’m just old Norma Stits – like a cartoon character.’
Slider knew, uncomfortably, how far this was true. ‘They’re a bit scared of you, that’s all’
‘I didn’t ask them to be scared of me,’ she said fiercely. ‘Why can’t they just accept me? I accept them, I don’t judge them by their revolting bodies and nasty habits. But to them I’m a freak. Well, I won’t have them at my wedding, sneering and sniggering.’ Slider couldn’t think of anything to say, and in his silence her ferocity drained away. She became diffident. ‘Anyway, I know it’s short notice and everything, but I wondered if you’d – if you’d give me away?’
He was so surprised he didn’t answer at once, and she hurried on, blushing painfully.
‘I mean, say no if you think it’s a cheek to ask, but my Dad’s dead and the nearest thing I’ve got is a cousin I’ve never liked, who’s got dandruff and BO and terrible teeth. I don’t want him. Tony’s Dad’s offered, but that doesn’t seem right to me. It ought to be someone of mine. And you – well – you’re practically like family. In a sort of way. I mean …’
He had to say something to check this painful embarrassment. ‘I always knew there was some reason you never made a pass at me,’ he said, smiling slowly. ‘I assumed it was respect for my rank, but now I see it’s because you thought of me as a different generation.’ Now she smiled too, shyly. ‘I’d be honoured to do it. Thank you for asking me.’
‘Thank you, boss,’ she said, and, hugely daring, darted a kiss at his cheek.
‘And now you’d better go home,’ he said, mock-sternly, because someone had to get them out of this before they both burst into tears.
‘Right, boss.’ She sat abruptly at her desk and bent her head, shuffling her papers together in a terminal sort of way.
Slider marched himself off into his office.
Mâcon, indeed!
CHAPTER SIX
Things can only get bitter
Peter Medmenham opened the door to Slider and said without a great deal of surprise, ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘You know why I’m here?’ Slider said sternly.
‘Yes. My mother rang me.’ He managed to scrape up a bit of indignation. ‘You had no right to call her without my permission.’
‘Don’t be silly, of course we did,’ Slider said, and Medmenham’s balloon collapsed. ‘And we wouldn’t have had to bother her if you hadn’t lied to us in the first place.’
Now he only looked miserable. ‘You’d better come in,’ he sighed, and stepped back.
Medmenham’s flat was a very different affair from either of the other two. A great deal of money and thought had obviously gone into it. The narrow passageway beyond the front door ought, Slider knew from other houses like this, to have been dark and damp-smelling. In fact it was brightly lit from sunken halogen lamps in the ceiling and smelled faintly of pot-pourri. The walls were white, and the single piece of furniture in view was a delicate mahogany side table of breathtaking simplicity and elegance – Georgian, Slider thought – on which stood a narrow glass vase containing a single scarlet gerbera, spiky and stunning against the white wall.
Medmenham led the way past two closed doors – bedroom and bathroom, presumably – to the room at the back. This was the living room, with the kitchen beyond in a new glass-roofed extension, divided from the sitting-room, American style, only by a counter. The kitchen was blisteringly modern, all pale ash and chrome, with a wicker-fronted drawer stack, a lot of expensive stainless-steel equipment on overhead racks,and a huge stone jar filled with dried rushes on the floor by the door.
Everything was tidy and put away, except that on the counter stood a large Gordon’s bottle and a heavy-bottomed cut-crystal glass, and a small chopping-board with half a lemon and a short knife lying on it.
The sitting-room was decorated in the sort of spare, minimalist style that depended on a very
Slider knew, uncomfortably, how far this was true. ‘They’re a bit scared of you, that’s all’
‘I didn’t ask them to be scared of me,’ she said fiercely. ‘Why can’t they just accept me? I accept them, I don’t judge them by their revolting bodies and nasty habits. But to them I’m a freak. Well, I won’t have them at my wedding, sneering and sniggering.’ Slider couldn’t think of anything to say, and in his silence her ferocity drained away. She became diffident. ‘Anyway, I know it’s short notice and everything, but I wondered if you’d – if you’d give me away?’
He was so surprised he didn’t answer at once, and she hurried on, blushing painfully.
‘I mean, say no if you think it’s a cheek to ask, but my Dad’s dead and the nearest thing I’ve got is a cousin I’ve never liked, who’s got dandruff and BO and terrible teeth. I don’t want him. Tony’s Dad’s offered, but that doesn’t seem right to me. It ought to be someone of mine. And you – well – you’re practically like family. In a sort of way. I mean …’
He had to say something to check this painful embarrassment. ‘I always knew there was some reason you never made a pass at me,’ he said, smiling slowly. ‘I assumed it was respect for my rank, but now I see it’s because you thought of me as a different generation.’ Now she smiled too, shyly. ‘I’d be honoured to do it. Thank you for asking me.’
‘Thank you, boss,’ she said, and, hugely daring, darted a kiss at his cheek.
‘And now you’d better go home,’ he said, mock-sternly, because someone had to get them out of this before they both burst into tears.
‘Right, boss.’ She sat abruptly at her desk and bent her head, shuffling her papers together in a terminal sort of way.
Slider marched himself off into his office.
Mâcon, indeed!
CHAPTER SIX
Things can only get bitter
Peter Medmenham opened the door to Slider and said without a great deal of surprise, ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘You know why I’m here?’ Slider said sternly.
‘Yes. My mother rang me.’ He managed to scrape up a bit of indignation. ‘You had no right to call her without my permission.’
‘Don’t be silly, of course we did,’ Slider said, and Medmenham’s balloon collapsed. ‘And we wouldn’t have had to bother her if you hadn’t lied to us in the first place.’
Now he only looked miserable. ‘You’d better come in,’ he sighed, and stepped back.
Medmenham’s flat was a very different affair from either of the other two. A great deal of money and thought had obviously gone into it. The narrow passageway beyond the front door ought, Slider knew from other houses like this, to have been dark and damp-smelling. In fact it was brightly lit from sunken halogen lamps in the ceiling and smelled faintly of pot-pourri. The walls were white, and the single piece of furniture in view was a delicate mahogany side table of breathtaking simplicity and elegance – Georgian, Slider thought – on which stood a narrow glass vase containing a single scarlet gerbera, spiky and stunning against the white wall.
Medmenham led the way past two closed doors – bedroom and bathroom, presumably – to the room at the back. This was the living room, with the kitchen beyond in a new glass-roofed extension, divided from the sitting-room, American style, only by a counter. The kitchen was blisteringly modern, all pale ash and chrome, with a wicker-fronted drawer stack, a lot of expensive stainless-steel equipment on overhead racks,and a huge stone jar filled with dried rushes on the floor by the door.
Everything was tidy and put away, except that on the counter stood a large Gordon’s bottle and a heavy-bottomed cut-crystal glass, and a small chopping-board with half a lemon and a short knife lying on it.
The sitting-room was decorated in the sort of spare, minimalist style that depended on a very
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