at Caroline. He says, ‘I’m sorry if you were upset.’
Heather snorts her derision. ‘That’s not an apology.’
‘That’s passive, Chris,’ Tony says. ‘You’re not taking responsibility.’
‘I wasn’t upset,’ Caroline says. ‘Takes more than that, trust me —’
‘Listen, I’m sorry, OK?’ Chris sits up straight, rolls his shoulders. ‘I’m really sorry I said what I said. It was out of order.’ And he looks as though he means it.
‘Not a problem,’ Caroline says.
‘Good for you,’ Diana says.
Tony thinks of something and quickly scribbles a note to himself, while bodies shift in chairs and throats are cleared. When he’s finished, he looks up at Heather. ‘So, what were you talking about outside?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Before we started.’
‘Just chit-chat,’ Chris says, quickly bumptious again. ‘Particle physics, the problems in the Middle East. Usual stuff.’
‘Actually, we were talking about how much money you make,’ Heather says. ‘Trying to work it out. I mean, this is a massive house, so you’re obviously doing pretty well out of it.’
‘Exploiting poor helpless junkies.’ Chris winks at Heather.
‘I don’t think it’s any of our business,’ Robin says.
‘We were just talking.’ Heather seems to be enjoying the whole conversation and Robin’s objection, the stuffiness of it, makes it funnier still. ‘You know… thinking about what you probably get for an hour and a half like this, multiplying by five, then having a guess at how many of these sessions you do a week, plus all the other stuff.’
‘Don’t forget the songwriting royalties,’ Diana says.
Tony does his best to smile. ‘I don’t think they’d pay for a new kettle.’
‘That’s all, really,’ Heather says. ‘That’s what we were talking about. Just messing around.’
‘I reckon you’re on about two hundred and fifty quid just for one session.’ Chris sighs and plasters on an expression of mock longing. ‘I was thinking how long that kind of money would have got me high for a year or so ago.’
‘Well, I know you like to exaggerate,’ Diana says, ‘but from some of the stories you’ve told us, I don’t think it would have gone very far.’
Tony raises a finger. Just a small gesture, but he always likes to guide the discussions as subtly as possible. He fights shy of interrupting if he can possibly help it. ‘Well, it’s nice to know my financial situation is so interesting, but you’re basing your calculations on a false premise, I’m afraid. The fact is, not all my clients pay the same.’
‘What, us, you mean?’ Heather asks.
‘I’m not going to go into specifics,’ Tony says. ‘But look, some people pay me privately, others have the fees paid through medical insurance… a few are supported by charities or funded by social services, so…’ He pauses for a few seconds, trying to decide whether or not to reveal the other crucial factor in how he makes his living. ‘And whether the money’s actually coming from the individual or the individual is supported in some way, the fact is I charge some clients a bit less than others.’ He shrugs like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t.
Nobody speaks for a few seconds, until Chris says, ‘For real?’
‘That’s good of you,’ Robin says. ‘I think it’s perfectly fair that there’s a sliding scale. I don’t mind paying because luckily I can afford it, but it’s right and proper that those who can’t should pay a bit less, or be helped in some way.’
‘No, that’s bollocks,’ Chris says. ‘A junkie’s a junkie, right? Doesn’t matter how much you earn, that fact should make everything the same. Obviously, because you’re minted you could afford to take better drugs and you didn’t have to rob anyone or do other shitty stuff like some of us did to pay for it. The world out there ain’t fair, we all know that, but
this
is our world now.’ He looks at Tony. ‘We should all be equal in
Heather snorts her derision. ‘That’s not an apology.’
‘That’s passive, Chris,’ Tony says. ‘You’re not taking responsibility.’
‘I wasn’t upset,’ Caroline says. ‘Takes more than that, trust me —’
‘Listen, I’m sorry, OK?’ Chris sits up straight, rolls his shoulders. ‘I’m really sorry I said what I said. It was out of order.’ And he looks as though he means it.
‘Not a problem,’ Caroline says.
‘Good for you,’ Diana says.
Tony thinks of something and quickly scribbles a note to himself, while bodies shift in chairs and throats are cleared. When he’s finished, he looks up at Heather. ‘So, what were you talking about outside?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Before we started.’
‘Just chit-chat,’ Chris says, quickly bumptious again. ‘Particle physics, the problems in the Middle East. Usual stuff.’
‘Actually, we were talking about how much money you make,’ Heather says. ‘Trying to work it out. I mean, this is a massive house, so you’re obviously doing pretty well out of it.’
‘Exploiting poor helpless junkies.’ Chris winks at Heather.
‘I don’t think it’s any of our business,’ Robin says.
‘We were just talking.’ Heather seems to be enjoying the whole conversation and Robin’s objection, the stuffiness of it, makes it funnier still. ‘You know… thinking about what you probably get for an hour and a half like this, multiplying by five, then having a guess at how many of these sessions you do a week, plus all the other stuff.’
‘Don’t forget the songwriting royalties,’ Diana says.
Tony does his best to smile. ‘I don’t think they’d pay for a new kettle.’
‘That’s all, really,’ Heather says. ‘That’s what we were talking about. Just messing around.’
‘I reckon you’re on about two hundred and fifty quid just for one session.’ Chris sighs and plasters on an expression of mock longing. ‘I was thinking how long that kind of money would have got me high for a year or so ago.’
‘Well, I know you like to exaggerate,’ Diana says, ‘but from some of the stories you’ve told us, I don’t think it would have gone very far.’
Tony raises a finger. Just a small gesture, but he always likes to guide the discussions as subtly as possible. He fights shy of interrupting if he can possibly help it. ‘Well, it’s nice to know my financial situation is so interesting, but you’re basing your calculations on a false premise, I’m afraid. The fact is, not all my clients pay the same.’
‘What, us, you mean?’ Heather asks.
‘I’m not going to go into specifics,’ Tony says. ‘But look, some people pay me privately, others have the fees paid through medical insurance… a few are supported by charities or funded by social services, so…’ He pauses for a few seconds, trying to decide whether or not to reveal the other crucial factor in how he makes his living. ‘And whether the money’s actually coming from the individual or the individual is supported in some way, the fact is I charge some clients a bit less than others.’ He shrugs like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t.
Nobody speaks for a few seconds, until Chris says, ‘For real?’
‘That’s good of you,’ Robin says. ‘I think it’s perfectly fair that there’s a sliding scale. I don’t mind paying because luckily I can afford it, but it’s right and proper that those who can’t should pay a bit less, or be helped in some way.’
‘No, that’s bollocks,’ Chris says. ‘A junkie’s a junkie, right? Doesn’t matter how much you earn, that fact should make everything the same. Obviously, because you’re minted you could afford to take better drugs and you didn’t have to rob anyone or do other shitty stuff like some of us did to pay for it. The world out there ain’t fair, we all know that, but
this
is our world now.’ He looks at Tony. ‘We should all be equal in
Similar Books
