The Way I Found Her by Rose Tremain Page B

don’t know if it’s Mac or not.’
    â€˜It’s Mac, if it’s Apple. What software?’
    â€˜I don’t know. I don’t know these kind of things, Lewis.’
    â€˜Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s all more or less the same in a WP programme. I can familiarise myself with it in two minutes. It’s a good idea, isn’t it?’
    She smiled at me and said: ‘Maybe it’s better if Alice helps me . . .’
    â€˜But then she won’t be able to get on with her translation, Valentina. That’s stupid. I can’t translate your book, but I could help you with typing.’
    â€˜Not really, darling. It has to be Alice . . .’
    I hated her going on about wanting Alice. I wanted her to want me. ‘Let me try,’ I said. ‘Let’s try tomorrow, and if I’m no good you can get someone else.’
    â€˜Perhaps I can still type with just my left hand?’
    â€˜No, you can’t. This system will be much faster, and it’s nearly August. We’ve only got about a month left.’
    She sighed at that point. Her sighs were very heavy, like some of the grimy Russian air was still in her lungs. Then she said to me in a whisper: ‘You’ve forgotten one thing, Lewis.’
    â€˜No, I haven’t,’ I said. ‘What have I forgotten?’
    â€˜I’m writing in French.’
    It was true. I had forgotten that. Once again, I’d ignored what was prime. An English boy struggling with Le Grand Meaulnes would be a pitiful assistant to a French novelist. I couldn’t believe I’d suggested such an idiotic thing. My love for Valentina was turning me into a moron.
    I got up and walked around the room, looking at Valentina’s things – her hairbrushes and her lamps and her photograph frames and her pots of flowers – and noticing that they were all heavy and expensive. I wanted to hurl one of them at the wall.
    After a bit, Valentina said: ‘Don’t be upset, Lewis. You can help me in other ways.’
    â€˜I wanted to be your secretary!’ I shouted.
    â€˜Never mind about that,’ said Valentina, trying to soothe me. ‘Now I want to ask you something important. Come here, darling, please.’
    I could tell it was going to be something about Alice and it was, so I didn’t move, but just stayed looking at all the perfume bottles on Valentina’s dressing table and at her mirror, which was draped with beads and chiffon scarves.
    Valentina wanted to know why Alice was angry with her. I wasn’t interested in this and I didn’t want to talk about it, but eventually, with my back turned, I said: ‘You shouldn’t take any notice of Alice’s moods.’
    â€˜But what have I done to her?’
    â€˜Nothing. She’s always a bit like that, wanting to do things on her own. It’s just her stubborn Scottish character.’
    â€˜But you know I’m very fond of Alice, darling. And if she’s going to be so cross all the time, I’m going to be unhappy.’
    â€˜Don’t be,’ I said impatiently. ‘She’s just like that . There’s no point in being upset.’
    â€˜The thing is . . . I don’t know what I’ve done.’
    â€˜You haven’t done anything. I told you. It’s Alice’s way . . .’
    â€˜But it never was before. And when she goes out alone, like that, where does she go, Lewis?’
    â€˜I don’t know. She maybe goes to a café or to the park, or something. She’s fond of just sitting and thinking, which is why Dad’s building the hut for her.’
    â€˜Building a hut?’
    I hadn’t intended to mention this. I suppose I brought it up to distract Valentina from her questions about Alice and return her to some subject that had more to do with me, but as soon as I said it I regretted it.
    â€˜Don’t mention it to Alice,’ I said.