money he gives to your school – like I owed him. I told him, I don’t give a damn. My daughter earns twice what she’s getting paid.’ This, nodding at Amy. ‘He says you’ve got his girl in your class. Name of Rachel.’ Amy had an image of the child: very pretty, rather conscious of the fact, rather quiet. Everyone knew how rich Daddy was, but she carried her inheritance lightly, like a scent. All the boys were scared of her; Amy was too, actually. She had the porcelain air of something carefully, terribly protected. The money around her was soft, invisible, inviolable.
‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ Jack went on, having his say at last, ‘I don’t envy the kid her father.’ Amy tried to hush him; the man after all was Mr Conway’s partner. But Jack had found his tongue; and Charles shook his head lightly, as if to say, it doesn’t matter, let the old man stretch his rope. Reuben had an expensive little game, Jack’d give him that: a swing best described as ‘well paid for’, short and strict. No length off the tee, but dead safe with his iron play. Always two-putted, played to win. A real piece of work, Jack repeated, though he made nice to begin: ‘When I was a boy, I took these pleasures for granted. These pleasures of male kinship. An innocent age.’ Jack aped the old guy’s voice. It rather startled Amy to hear her father play the mimic, it suggested the sourness of a younger man. And for the first time it struck her that he must have known this city well once, in his youth. He carried the accent off; the manner – dry, heavily staccato – of a Jewish old-timer. A real bigot, Jack added in his own voice; something of a gossip, too.
‘I’ve got nothing against homos but they shouldn’t be teaching,’ Jack continued, adopting a slight whine. ‘Thank God, I tell myself, I have daughters. A daughter. A gay man himself confessed to me. A trustworthy man, a business partner. Strictly between us, he said, keep me away from the bambinos. That’s how they start out. From an early age; it’s howthey learn themselves. You can’t expect them to behave, given the opportunities of the classroom. I’ve tried to put this across the school board. I don’t give my money for these men.’
Even repeating such nonsense seemed indecent, offensive. Amy thought of her colleague Howard Peasbody, his heavy-headed pock-marked face, his teasing gallantry – and bridled in sympathy. Never had anyone struck her as so free from temptations. She was more likely to fondle one of the boys. But her father was right, as always; you shouldn’t let these remarks go unpunished. ‘Well,’ Jack added, running out of steam, ‘I had a crack at him. I’ll give myself that.’ He was too old to play all day with boys – that was Joanne’s response. He grunted and adjusted his teeth. ‘You’re missing the point,’ he said. ‘You haven’t been listening. This guy was older than me. It’s the way they act: like money buys you everything.’ It seemed a not so subtle dig at Charles; and Amy’s heart fell again.
Something in the mood of the company had put Andy off his wine; but he already had a slight hangover from his earlier drinking by the end of the meal. Everybody seemed happy enough when the bill came. When Charles reached for his wallet and took out a card, Joanne stayed his hand, lightly, laying her own over his wrist. ‘This one’s on us, for a change.’
‘Let him pay.’ Jack looked up suddenly. ‘He’s good for it.’
‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Joanne began; but Amy cut in, blushing, ‘Let him, it’s all right, I’ll make it up to him.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Jack said.
‘Please –’ Charles stood up and had a word with the waiter by the bar. He didn’t come back till the bill was settled.
Jack left his seat, found his coat, and pushed through the door into the cold. When nobody else came out he began striding away. ‘Wait up –’ Amy called. ‘I’m only going,’ he said,
‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ Jack went on, having his say at last, ‘I don’t envy the kid her father.’ Amy tried to hush him; the man after all was Mr Conway’s partner. But Jack had found his tongue; and Charles shook his head lightly, as if to say, it doesn’t matter, let the old man stretch his rope. Reuben had an expensive little game, Jack’d give him that: a swing best described as ‘well paid for’, short and strict. No length off the tee, but dead safe with his iron play. Always two-putted, played to win. A real piece of work, Jack repeated, though he made nice to begin: ‘When I was a boy, I took these pleasures for granted. These pleasures of male kinship. An innocent age.’ Jack aped the old guy’s voice. It rather startled Amy to hear her father play the mimic, it suggested the sourness of a younger man. And for the first time it struck her that he must have known this city well once, in his youth. He carried the accent off; the manner – dry, heavily staccato – of a Jewish old-timer. A real bigot, Jack added in his own voice; something of a gossip, too.
‘I’ve got nothing against homos but they shouldn’t be teaching,’ Jack continued, adopting a slight whine. ‘Thank God, I tell myself, I have daughters. A daughter. A gay man himself confessed to me. A trustworthy man, a business partner. Strictly between us, he said, keep me away from the bambinos. That’s how they start out. From an early age; it’s howthey learn themselves. You can’t expect them to behave, given the opportunities of the classroom. I’ve tried to put this across the school board. I don’t give my money for these men.’
Even repeating such nonsense seemed indecent, offensive. Amy thought of her colleague Howard Peasbody, his heavy-headed pock-marked face, his teasing gallantry – and bridled in sympathy. Never had anyone struck her as so free from temptations. She was more likely to fondle one of the boys. But her father was right, as always; you shouldn’t let these remarks go unpunished. ‘Well,’ Jack added, running out of steam, ‘I had a crack at him. I’ll give myself that.’ He was too old to play all day with boys – that was Joanne’s response. He grunted and adjusted his teeth. ‘You’re missing the point,’ he said. ‘You haven’t been listening. This guy was older than me. It’s the way they act: like money buys you everything.’ It seemed a not so subtle dig at Charles; and Amy’s heart fell again.
Something in the mood of the company had put Andy off his wine; but he already had a slight hangover from his earlier drinking by the end of the meal. Everybody seemed happy enough when the bill came. When Charles reached for his wallet and took out a card, Joanne stayed his hand, lightly, laying her own over his wrist. ‘This one’s on us, for a change.’
‘Let him pay.’ Jack looked up suddenly. ‘He’s good for it.’
‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Joanne began; but Amy cut in, blushing, ‘Let him, it’s all right, I’ll make it up to him.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Jack said.
‘Please –’ Charles stood up and had a word with the waiter by the bar. He didn’t come back till the bill was settled.
Jack left his seat, found his coat, and pushed through the door into the cold. When nobody else came out he began striding away. ‘Wait up –’ Amy called. ‘I’m only going,’ he said,
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