All Bones and Lies by Anne Fine Page B

bothered to remember whichevening he’d mentioned (in which case what difference did it make, today or tomorrow, except that, being a whole day later, tomorrow really ought to be preferable)? Or was it, as he suspected, some subtle variation on the old, old theme, ‘Whatever Norah wants, she gets’? Perhaps tonight suited her better. (He must glance at the television listings and see if he could rumble her.) And though, in the past, she would have felt robust enough to come out fighting (‘No, Colin. I distinctly remember Monday was what you suggested’) maybe more recently she’d decided she was too old for that kind of effort, and, as the first stage of some sort of home-based psychic retirement, had begun to take advantage of his skills at obstructing the council’s cripplingly expensive state-of-the-art voicemail by leaving her more disquieting directives with the long-suffering Shirley.
    Effective, either way. For as soon as the dog warden had finished grousing about the inadequacies of her new van, to Holly House is where he went.
    She met him on the doorstep. ‘Devils are queuing up to spit at me, and I blame you!’
    For one mad moment he reviewed his spells. But then he saw that what she was flapping at him was another of the envelopes from Frampton Commercial.
    â€˜Oh, yes?’ he said, manoeuvring past her with a few staples he’d stopped off to pick up on the way. ‘And why is that, then?’
    â€˜This new insurance company you forced me to join—’
    â€˜
I
didn’t force you to—’
    â€˜
Now
they want some stupid
safety
thing. This is entirely your fault. If you would only keep your noseout of my affairs, I could get on like a house on fire.’
    â€˜Perhaps a house on fire is why—’
    â€˜Don’t you be smart with me! If you hadn’t bullied me into raising those premiums, I’d have been left in peace and quiet.’
    He tried to defend himself. ‘It can’t be anything to do with that. I only posted the paperwork the day before yesterday.’
    â€˜Don’t try and wriggle out of it!’ She flapped the letter in his face again. ‘This is your fault!’
    â€˜
What?
’ he said, losing patience. ‘Don’t
hit
me with it. Tell me what it
says
.’
    â€˜It doesn’t
say
anything. It
demands
.’
    â€˜What?’
    She wasn’t wearing glasses, so her dramatic reading was for effect. ‘It demands “A Certificate of—”’ Oh, how her lip curled! ‘“Approved Electrical Installation”!’
    â€˜Really?’
    Her scornful look turned personal. ‘I don’t know why you, of all people, pretend to be surprised. I should have thought this sort of persecution of helpless homeowners was right up your alley.’
    He paid her back by playing Bait the Taxpayer. ‘Oh, no. Safety’s quite different. We have a special officer for that.’
    â€˜Well, he’d better not visit this house. I won’t be discouraging him from sticking his wet fingers in my plugs.’ He took advantage of her settling into a state of mere baleful quiescence to wriggle past. She trailed him through to the kitchen and gazed disparagingly at his purchases. ‘I certainly hope you haven’t bought any morebutter. I’m up to the gunwales in it. And what on earth is that very nasty-looking affair?’
    He picked up the packaged gourmet meal he’d thrown in for a treat. ‘This is our supper.’
    â€˜I don’t feel at all like eating.’
    â€˜You’ll like this. We had it once before and you said you thought it was delicious.’
    Her look gave him clearly to understand that she couldn’t have meant it. Again he stamped down resentment. This was the bit he hated most about his dealings with her. Not only did she have the knack of poisoning the minutes he was trying to get through, she also somehow seemed to