The Dog Who Came in from the Cold by Alexander McCall Smith Page A

that walking encouraged thought. Unlike the unfortunate American president who, waspish critics said, found it difficult to walk and chew gum at the same time, William could walk and think very effectively. He did not chew gum, of course, andindeed chewing gum was one of his pet hates. “People look so bovine when they chew gum,” he had said to Marcia once. “Like cows chewing the cud.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” said Marcia. “If people enjoy it, then why shouldn’t they do it?”
    Marcia was fundamentally libertarian at heart. She might not have described herself as a Benthamite, but that was what she was, and she would have enthusiastically endorsed Bentham’s view that the only things that should be prohibited are those things that harm others.
    “Because it’s disgusting,” said William. “As I said, it makes people look bovine.”
    “But if that’s what they want to do,” said Marcia, “why shouldn’t they? If I want to look bovine, then surely I’m entitled to do so. It’s not as if I’m harming anybody by chewing gum. It’s not that—”
    “But it
is
harmful,” William interjected. “It makes a terrible mess. That’s why Lee Kwan Yew objected to it. That and failing to flush the lavatory. That’s an offence too in Singapore.”
    Marcia looked astonished. “Your own loo?”
    “No,” said William. “Just public ones. And why not prohibit it? It harms people.”
    Marcia shook her head. “Hardly. Offends them, maybe. Doesn’t really harm them.”
    William was not going to let Marcia get away with that. “But it does harm them. Public health. Same with spitting. Spitting should be illegal because it spreads disease, and that harms other people—it harms us all.” He paused. “And anyway, I still think chewing gum is awful. It’s on a par with eating with one’s mouth open in public. It’s just …” He tailed off; he and Marcia would never agree over some matters—rather a lot of matters, in fact—and that was one of the reasons why it was not to be … There could be no romantic attachment to somebody who might at any moment take out a stick of chewing gum and start to chew like a cow.
    But their difference of opinion on that matter did not prevent him from deciding, as he walked back across the park, that he would discuss the meeting with Marcia when he saw her that evening. She had told him that she would drop in on her way back from a catering engagement for the Romanian embassy.
    “They’re having a cocktail party,” she had explained. “But it’ll be over by seven—poor dears, they can only rise to two canapés per guest and one and a half glasses of wine. But I’ll throw in a few bottles free, just to give them a slightly better party. And some free sandwiches, which will be only
slightly
secondhand—leftovers from a lunchtime reception for a firm of solicitors. They never eat very much—they’re far too
driven
—and there are bound to be bags of sandwiches left over that can be diverted to the poor old Romanians.”
    “Quite right,” said William. “One would not want to waste sandwiches. Particularly in these straitened times.”
    Marcia nodded in agreement. “And very few sandwiches
are
wasted,” she said. “Did you know the Prime Minister passes on his extra sandwiches to the Chancellor of the Exchequer for use at his receptions? Did you know that? That’s why you never get any egg mayonnaise sandwiches at the Chancellor’s parties—because the egg sandwiches always go before the cucumber and the cheese ones. It always happens that way.”
    William smiled at the thought. It was the cascade system—the same system that allocated older rolling stock to less prosperous railway regions. It was exactly the same, it seemed, with sandwiches.
    Marcia was smiling too. “I’m not sure if I should tell you this,” she said, “but I heard the most wonderful story. It’s been going round catering circles for the last few weeks, but everybody who tells it