On Beauty by Zadie Smith

don’t know.’
    â€˜We’re very close.’
    â€˜Well,’ said Howard, restraining himself, ‘you’re very lucky.’
    â€˜It’s about trying ,’ said Michael keenly – the topic seemed to animate him. ‘It’s like, if you put the effort in. And I spose my mum’s always been at home, which makes a lot of difference, I think. Having the mother figure and all that. Nurturing. It’s like a Caribbean ideal – a lot of people lose sight of it.’
    â€˜Right,’ said Howard, and walked another two streets – past an ice-cream scoop of a Hindu temple and down an avenue of awful bungalows – imagining knocking this young man’s head against a tree.
    The lamps were lit on every street now. Howard began to be able to make out the Queen’s Park to which Michael had referred. It was nothing like the groomed royal parks in the centre of town. Just a small village green with a colourful spot-lit Victorian bandstand at its centre.
    â€˜Michael – can I say something?’
    Michael said nothing.
    â€˜Look, I don’t mean in any way to offend anyone in your family, and I can see we agree basically anyway – I can’t see the point in arguing over it. Really we need to put our heads together and just think of . . . well, I suppose, some way , some means of convincing both of them, you know – that this is a bloody insane idea – I mean, that’s the key thing, no?’
    â€˜Look, man,’ said Michael tersely, quickening his step, ‘I’m not an intellectual, right? I’m not involved in whatever the argument is regarding my father. I’m a forgiving Christian, and as far as I’m concerned whatever is between you and him doesn’t change the way we feel about Jerome – he’s a good kid, man, and that’s the main thing – so there’s no argument.’
    â€˜Yes – of course, of course, of course , no one’s saying there’s an argument – I’m just saying, and I’m hoping your father will appreciate this, that Jerome’s really too young – and he’s younger than he actually is – emotionally he’s much younger, completely inexperienced – much more so than you probably realize –’
    â€˜Sorry – am I being stupid – what are you trying to say?’
    Howard took a deep, artificial breath. ‘I think they’re both much, much too young to get married, Michael, I really do. That’s it, in a nutshell. I’m not old-fashioned, but I do think, by any measure – ’
    â€˜Marriage?’ said Michael, stopping where he was, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose an inch. ‘Who’s getting married? What’re you chatting about?’
    â€˜Jerome. And Victoria – sorry . . . I thought that surely –’
    Michael arranged his jaw in a new way. ‘Are we talking about my sister?’
    â€˜Yes – sorry – Jerome and Victoria – who are you talking about? Wait – what?’
    Michael let out a loud single-burst laugh, and then came closer to Howard’s face with his own, seeking some sign of jest. When none came, he took off his glasses and slowly rubbed them against his scarf.
    â€˜I don’t know where you got that idea, yeah, but just seriously, like, remove it, because it just isn’t even . . . Phew!’ he said, breathing out heavily, shaking his head and replacing his glasses. ‘I mean, I like Jerome, he’s fine, yeah? But I think my family wouldn’t really . . . feel safe thinking of Victoria getting involved with somebody who was so far outside of . . .’ Howard watched Michael openly search for a euphemism. ‘Well, things we think are important, right? That’s just not the plan right now, sorry. You’ve got the wrong end of something there, mate, but whatever it is, I