Such Men Are Dangerous by Stephen Benatar Page A

Janice.
    “Oh!” said Dawn, reading it. “Oh! All the good things are coming at once.”
    “What is it?” In spite of his severely interrupted night, Josh had got up at more or less his normal time. He was currently mashing the tea.
    “She’ll be here for lunch tomorrow. She says she’s sorry that it’s such short notice.”
    The nursing school was in Sheffield. Usually she got home at least once a month, and for the whole weekend, not just for Sunday lunch. “Well, what’s so wonderful about that?”
    “It says—listen—it says, ‘Do you mind if I bring Don? He’s someone rather special.’”
    “ Who ?”
    “Yes, you’re right, I’m sure it’s not a name she’s ever mentioned. The little monkey. Oh, she’s an artful one.”
    “What else does she say?”
    “Nothing. Except that he doesn’t like peas much, or apples. What a weekend this is going to be! Heaven knows how we’re ever going to cope but…Do you realize, Josh, that this is the first time our Janice has brought home a young man? And from the sound of it, I’d say, it might even be the last! He must be one of the doctors, wouldn’t you think?”
    She handed him the letter with a dreamy expression.
    “Fancy a man who doesn’t care for peas or apples!” he exclaimed.
    Michael arrived for his breakfast; even at weekends (or, for that matter, during the school holidays or at any other time) slothfulness was not permitted; no greater concession made—or dispensation given, said Josh—than one short extra hour in bed. “Who doesn’t care for peas or apples?”
    “Some man your sister’s bringing home.”
    “Blimey! Is she going to marry him?”
    “What, at nineteen? She’d be a fool if she did.”
    “I was only nineteen,” said Dawn.
    “Attitudes have changed in the past twenty years.” Josh brought their four mugs over to the table.
    “I don’t see how.”
    “Then you must be one of the few women in the whole country who doesn’t.”
    “I wouldn’t want her living with anyone.”
    She glanced anxiously at Michael as she said this.
    Josh laughed. “Especially somebody who didn’t like fruit and veg! It sounds positively unwholesome to me. Unclean.” He got up from the table, to fetch a new jar of marmalade; and having done so ruffled Michael’s hair. “Thank God we never had fastidious children. Ugh! I bet he’s all covered in pimples!”
    “Stop that, please!” said Dawn. “You really aren’t being funny.”
    He and Michael exchanged a covert smile. Michael clearly thought he was.
    A few minutes later William came in, who wasn’t all covered in pimples. Josh, on his feet again, his breakfast done with, gave a small frown. For a moment he’d forgotten. Then he laid an affectionate arm round William’s shoulders. “There, that’s what you get as a reward for eating up your cabbage! And your carrots! My word, but you look handsome!”
    “Oh, Dad…!”
    William pulled away, embarrassed.
    “Anyhow, I’m off for a workout. See you all later. And don’t forget to tell Billy the good news!”
    The Tannery was in Mary Street. Josh had become a member there four years before and had paid his first seventy-five pounds out of his savings. After that he had methodically held back three pounds every fortnight from his supplementary benefits. It had never occurred to Dawn to ask how he kept up his membership. To him this membership was more than just important; it was vital. In having developed his body he had done something constructive with his enforced leisure. It was the thing which had helped him most not only to hold onto his self-respect but even to enhance it.
    He went three times a week: for a workout and a shower and a brief time on the sunbed. (He didn’t want to be mahogany, just very lightly tanned.) He pretended to laugh at it, but was prepared to strive unflaggingly for things that he believed in.
    Once, at the beginning, he had been sick after a particularly violent workout. Once, he had almost