when we got here.’
‘It will, it will. You’re just … we’re just tired. You have a shower and then I will.’
He phoned Jonah Bramble, his agent. Jonah sounded oddly tired, tired as never before. It was hard to associate this thin exhausted voice with the big, beefy, bearded man Fred had met in London. New York miasma?
‘So, you’re here.’ He kept sighing.
‘Yes. I thought maybe we could set up something with a publisher, or a meeting or something.’
‘What? Oh, yes, sure.’ There was a long silence. ‘Anyway, I must take you two to dinner.’ Jonah sighed. ‘Tomorrow night OK?’
‘Fine.’
A cockroach scuttled out from under the phone and dropped behind the table into darkness.
‘Is anything wrong, Jonah? Are you all right?’
Long silence. ‘No, nothing wrong …’
‘Hello?’
After a moment, Jonah’s voice faded back up: ‘… tired is all. Italian or Chinese?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Food. Italian or Chinese?’
‘Italian. Susan hates Chinese food.’
After hanging up, he watched her unpack her bath things and drag herself into the bathroom. He was about to turn on the television when:
‘Fred, come here. Quick.
There’s a huge cockroach in the bath.’
‘Oh, that’s just Kafka.’
‘Come in here and kill it.’
Her voice was not laughing. He went in and stepped on the large insect. When he had wiped it away with toilet paper and washed out the remains, when he had flushed the toilet and scouted around for other creatures, he kissed her.
‘All right?’
‘I hate those bloody things.’
She was pink and lovely, and he hated to leave her. ‘Scrub your back?’
‘Beat it, buster. Scram, mac. Take it on the lam, pal.’
‘I’ll take a powder, sister.’
He gave up and returned to the living-room. There was the sound of a shower door closing. Then a scream.
He raced in. Susan was out of the shower, sitting on the toilet with the lid down. She sat huddled, protecting her breasts, quaking.
‘They … were waiting for me … on the top rail … Waiting to drop on me …’
‘Poor darling.’ He saw half a dozen cockroaches trapped in the tub. ‘They must have been cooling off on the top rail, and when you shut the door they just showered down –’
‘I hate this fucking city.’
‘Look, you go lie down for a while. I’ll clean up in here, and I’ll make sure they’re all out before you come back.’
He led her to the bed, then returned to the bathroom to wreak vengeance. By the time he had removed all traces of insect life, she was asleep. He took a shower himself, and finally woke her after an hour and led her back to the bathroom.
‘I’ll give you your shower,’ he said soothingly. ‘I’ll be right here to protect you.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I was just startled, that’s all. Caught off balance.’
‘But I really –’
‘Piss off
. I’m perfectly able to look after myself.’
While he waited for her, he turned on the television. A cockroach scuttled away from under it.
On the screen, pairs of people were carrying black plastic body-bags from a fast-food restaurant.
‘… shooting may have been a robbery that went wrong. A police spokesperson said the assailant may be the same man who shot seventeen people in another Little Dorrit restaurant in Cleveland last week. This is Juniper Pugh, XBC News, Canton, Ohio.’
The scene switched to three personable newsreaders, grinning at one another across their huge communal desk.
‘Jan, what do we have from Capitol Hill?’
‘Well, Bob, the presidential sanity hearings reopened today. Following on the sensational testimony last week of Colonel Harry Stack Bratwurst – you may recall that it was Bratwurst who covertly delivered the waterbed full of chicken blood – comes the even more sensational testimony of Ms Pasadena Lipgloss.’
‘She was the personal assistant of Omar Hancock-Hour, wasn’t she?’
‘That’s right, Bob. And Hancock-Hour was the Anglo-Syrian arms-dealer who allegedly
‘It will, it will. You’re just … we’re just tired. You have a shower and then I will.’
He phoned Jonah Bramble, his agent. Jonah sounded oddly tired, tired as never before. It was hard to associate this thin exhausted voice with the big, beefy, bearded man Fred had met in London. New York miasma?
‘So, you’re here.’ He kept sighing.
‘Yes. I thought maybe we could set up something with a publisher, or a meeting or something.’
‘What? Oh, yes, sure.’ There was a long silence. ‘Anyway, I must take you two to dinner.’ Jonah sighed. ‘Tomorrow night OK?’
‘Fine.’
A cockroach scuttled out from under the phone and dropped behind the table into darkness.
‘Is anything wrong, Jonah? Are you all right?’
Long silence. ‘No, nothing wrong …’
‘Hello?’
After a moment, Jonah’s voice faded back up: ‘… tired is all. Italian or Chinese?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Food. Italian or Chinese?’
‘Italian. Susan hates Chinese food.’
After hanging up, he watched her unpack her bath things and drag herself into the bathroom. He was about to turn on the television when:
‘Fred, come here. Quick.
There’s a huge cockroach in the bath.’
‘Oh, that’s just Kafka.’
‘Come in here and kill it.’
Her voice was not laughing. He went in and stepped on the large insect. When he had wiped it away with toilet paper and washed out the remains, when he had flushed the toilet and scouted around for other creatures, he kissed her.
‘All right?’
‘I hate those bloody things.’
She was pink and lovely, and he hated to leave her. ‘Scrub your back?’
‘Beat it, buster. Scram, mac. Take it on the lam, pal.’
‘I’ll take a powder, sister.’
He gave up and returned to the living-room. There was the sound of a shower door closing. Then a scream.
He raced in. Susan was out of the shower, sitting on the toilet with the lid down. She sat huddled, protecting her breasts, quaking.
‘They … were waiting for me … on the top rail … Waiting to drop on me …’
‘Poor darling.’ He saw half a dozen cockroaches trapped in the tub. ‘They must have been cooling off on the top rail, and when you shut the door they just showered down –’
‘I hate this fucking city.’
‘Look, you go lie down for a while. I’ll clean up in here, and I’ll make sure they’re all out before you come back.’
He led her to the bed, then returned to the bathroom to wreak vengeance. By the time he had removed all traces of insect life, she was asleep. He took a shower himself, and finally woke her after an hour and led her back to the bathroom.
‘I’ll give you your shower,’ he said soothingly. ‘I’ll be right here to protect you.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I was just startled, that’s all. Caught off balance.’
‘But I really –’
‘Piss off
. I’m perfectly able to look after myself.’
While he waited for her, he turned on the television. A cockroach scuttled away from under it.
On the screen, pairs of people were carrying black plastic body-bags from a fast-food restaurant.
‘… shooting may have been a robbery that went wrong. A police spokesperson said the assailant may be the same man who shot seventeen people in another Little Dorrit restaurant in Cleveland last week. This is Juniper Pugh, XBC News, Canton, Ohio.’
The scene switched to three personable newsreaders, grinning at one another across their huge communal desk.
‘Jan, what do we have from Capitol Hill?’
‘Well, Bob, the presidential sanity hearings reopened today. Following on the sensational testimony last week of Colonel Harry Stack Bratwurst – you may recall that it was Bratwurst who covertly delivered the waterbed full of chicken blood – comes the even more sensational testimony of Ms Pasadena Lipgloss.’
‘She was the personal assistant of Omar Hancock-Hour, wasn’t she?’
‘That’s right, Bob. And Hancock-Hour was the Anglo-Syrian arms-dealer who allegedly
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