not so different from
the grief Norman had felt at the separation forced upon
him. Theo wanted Norman to call him by name, say
he shouldn't feel blame for what had happened, that
relationships collapse of some subtle and external volition
rather than at the instigation of those concerned. Theo
wanted Norman to absolve him of some offence to the
family. He might say, Theo, don't beat yourself up about
such things. He might say, I know there was no cruelty in
it all, no intention to hurt. He might say, personal growth
is achieved by accepting the inevitable, and that human
personality is intractable.
'Well, thanks for calling, Theo,' Norman said calmly,
and rang off.
11
Angie was the hottest of the women reporters. Nicholas
and Theo agreed on that. So did the entire male editorial
staff, though no formal vote was taken. The consensus
was apparent in their jocular acceptance of her. No
doubt in the end she'd be overweight, but in her midtwenties
the fullness of figure was just contained by the
elasticity of youth. She had that confident disregard for
her own attractiveness that naturally good-looking women
can afford. Allure was second nature to her, as much a
part of who she was as the relaxed laugh and the love of
innuendo.
She could get anything out of Nicholas, and the others
would sometimes use her as emissary to tap his contacts
and his expertise. He knew, she knew, they knew, that
proximity to such buxom promise cheered him greatly,
and he was old enough to understand that simple and
healthy pleasure was as far as it went. Since his divorce
Theo had sometimes imagined a relationship with Angie
might be one of greater and more profitable ambiguity,
but she treated him in just the same way. Theo was never
quite sure how he had reached the age of thirty-eight, or
why. He wasn't conscious of growing older, but Angie
obviously placed him in the same category as Nicholas.
'You know the boat people stuff you did,' she said.
Standing at Theo's desk she looked out into the alley
and back entrances to the beautician and pet shop, as all
journalists from the dark side of the reporters' room tended
to do when they came over to the window. The reminder
of a world external to the baleful flicker of computer
screens was intriguing. 'Anna's asked me to do a story on
the women — their perspective, motives, how they cope
and all that.'
'How predictably inclusive,' said Nicholas.
'I know,' said Angie. She said it in a conspiratorial
whisper, and drew out the vowel in an exaggerated way.
She really was a good-looking woman. Even her hands
were perfectly formed and indefinably suggestive. Do such
women ever have feelings of inadequacy, fully realise their
power, and how are they reconciled to life when their
beauty fades? 'Anyway, I thought you might be able to
give me a couple of contacts from the refugee people you
spoke to for your piece.'
'He's still in touch with a few Philippine and Indonesian
women,' said Nicholas slyly. 'They look to him for
succour.'
'Really,' said Angie, and gave Nicholas the eye flash he
sought.
'He's offered to go down to the centre and help them
get orientated. I don't know which direction they'll end up
facing.'
'Really,' said Angie.
'Knock it off, you two,' said Theo. 'You'll end up
mud-wrestling together soon.' Nicholas made as if to
take off his shirt, and Angie wriggled slightly and pouted.
Nicholas then returned to his work, and Angie pulled a
stool to Theo's side. He found his file on the boat people
and suggested some contacts, especially an Indonesian
woman who spoke good English and whose reasons for
getting out seemed to be political rather than economic.
And there was a much older woman who had given her life
savings to some con man who promised fully authorised
and official admittance to the country. Angie was relaxed
and professional, flirtation done with at a stroke, unless of
course Theo chose to begin it afresh. He admired the ease
with which she altered her response so surely from
the grief Norman had felt at the separation forced upon
him. Theo wanted Norman to call him by name, say
he shouldn't feel blame for what had happened, that
relationships collapse of some subtle and external volition
rather than at the instigation of those concerned. Theo
wanted Norman to absolve him of some offence to the
family. He might say, Theo, don't beat yourself up about
such things. He might say, I know there was no cruelty in
it all, no intention to hurt. He might say, personal growth
is achieved by accepting the inevitable, and that human
personality is intractable.
'Well, thanks for calling, Theo,' Norman said calmly,
and rang off.
11
Angie was the hottest of the women reporters. Nicholas
and Theo agreed on that. So did the entire male editorial
staff, though no formal vote was taken. The consensus
was apparent in their jocular acceptance of her. No
doubt in the end she'd be overweight, but in her midtwenties
the fullness of figure was just contained by the
elasticity of youth. She had that confident disregard for
her own attractiveness that naturally good-looking women
can afford. Allure was second nature to her, as much a
part of who she was as the relaxed laugh and the love of
innuendo.
She could get anything out of Nicholas, and the others
would sometimes use her as emissary to tap his contacts
and his expertise. He knew, she knew, they knew, that
proximity to such buxom promise cheered him greatly,
and he was old enough to understand that simple and
healthy pleasure was as far as it went. Since his divorce
Theo had sometimes imagined a relationship with Angie
might be one of greater and more profitable ambiguity,
but she treated him in just the same way. Theo was never
quite sure how he had reached the age of thirty-eight, or
why. He wasn't conscious of growing older, but Angie
obviously placed him in the same category as Nicholas.
'You know the boat people stuff you did,' she said.
Standing at Theo's desk she looked out into the alley
and back entrances to the beautician and pet shop, as all
journalists from the dark side of the reporters' room tended
to do when they came over to the window. The reminder
of a world external to the baleful flicker of computer
screens was intriguing. 'Anna's asked me to do a story on
the women — their perspective, motives, how they cope
and all that.'
'How predictably inclusive,' said Nicholas.
'I know,' said Angie. She said it in a conspiratorial
whisper, and drew out the vowel in an exaggerated way.
She really was a good-looking woman. Even her hands
were perfectly formed and indefinably suggestive. Do such
women ever have feelings of inadequacy, fully realise their
power, and how are they reconciled to life when their
beauty fades? 'Anyway, I thought you might be able to
give me a couple of contacts from the refugee people you
spoke to for your piece.'
'He's still in touch with a few Philippine and Indonesian
women,' said Nicholas slyly. 'They look to him for
succour.'
'Really,' said Angie, and gave Nicholas the eye flash he
sought.
'He's offered to go down to the centre and help them
get orientated. I don't know which direction they'll end up
facing.'
'Really,' said Angie.
'Knock it off, you two,' said Theo. 'You'll end up
mud-wrestling together soon.' Nicholas made as if to
take off his shirt, and Angie wriggled slightly and pouted.
Nicholas then returned to his work, and Angie pulled a
stool to Theo's side. He found his file on the boat people
and suggested some contacts, especially an Indonesian
woman who spoke good English and whose reasons for
getting out seemed to be political rather than economic.
And there was a much older woman who had given her life
savings to some con man who promised fully authorised
and official admittance to the country. Angie was relaxed
and professional, flirtation done with at a stroke, unless of
course Theo chose to begin it afresh. He admired the ease
with which she altered her response so surely from
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