simple?’
‘Yes.’
‘You
know
what she did.’
‘Yes.’
‘So how can it be my fault?’
‘How do we even know it’s true? We’ve only got it from you. Who says you’re not lying?’
‘Why would I lie?’
‘Because of everything you’ve got to hide.’
‘I don’t have anything to hide.’
‘No,’ said the father, who was staring at the TV screen.
‘You keep out of it,’ said the mother. ‘Where could that poor child have got to?’
‘The uncle,’ the husband said. ‘That brother of yours. Is he still alive?’
‘And kicking!’ the father said. ‘He’s not even seventy yet.’
‘Where’s he live?’
‘You think she’s at his place?’ the mother asked.
‘She’s not there,’ the father said.
‘He already phoned him. She’s not there. Unless he’s lying. That’s quite possible too, of course. He’s stark staring mad.’
There was more singing and judging on TV. The father had turned it up after his wife’s last remark. He was sitting much too close; it was hard to believe he could see anything at all with his nose pressed against the screen like that. Or was it a way of making himself invisible, so that he could comment safely from the sidelines now and then?
‘Money,’ said the father.
‘What?’
‘Don’t you get statements from the bank? Showing what’s been withdrawn, where and when. She needs money, doesn’t she?’
‘I get statements,’ the husband said. ‘Not her. She does it all online. I don’t have access. We have separate accounts.’
‘If you ask me, you’ve got plenty to hide,’ the mother said. ‘You turned out to be an arsonist, after all.’
The husband sighed.
‘Not having any kids, that’s your fault too. I’m sure of it.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Didn’t she tell you about the tests?’
‘What tests?’
‘The tests I’ve had.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘That’s obvious.’
‘I want a glass of wine.’
‘What?’ said the father.
‘I said I want a glass of wine. White.’
‘Help yourself.’
‘You serve your son-in-law and I have to help myself?’
‘Yes,’ said the father. ‘I’m watching TV. And you never drink.’
The mother stood up and walked to the kitchen. The husband pondered the ferocity she had put into the phrase ‘son-in-law’ and waited for his father-in-law to turn round. To say something to him. Man to man. Light flickered through the living room.
‘Why do all these people make such fools of themselves?’ said the father.
The husband shrugged.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Don’t you want to be on TV?’
‘Nope.’
‘They do. No matter what.’
‘In the old days she always used to look out the window on St Nicholas’ Eve. She was the kind of kid who’d sit with her face up close to the glass and stare out at the wet streets.’
‘What about the presents?’ asked the husband.
‘Yes, she was interested in them too, of course, but still…’ The father looked at the screen. ‘What bothers memost,’ he said quietly, ‘is that she said “really”. There’s
really
no need to worry.’
The mother came back. She was holding a glass that was quarter filled with wine. After sitting down and taking a mouthful, she pulled a wry face. ‘So you’re fine?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me at all.’
‘When was that?’
‘Last autumn.’
‘Did she get herself tested too?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she didn’t think it was necessary?’
‘Are you asking me?’
‘No, I’m just saying.’
‘If I were her, I’d get myself tested too.’
All three of them drank and stared at the TV. A youth in shorts and woolly socks with a bare, tattooed upper body leapt around the studio. He screamed all kinds of things, but they couldn’t follow him at all. Maybe he came from the east of the country. The husband didn’t want to think about the student. He wanted to stay calm.
‘After all, it’s getting pretty late in the
‘Yes.’
‘You
know
what she did.’
‘Yes.’
‘So how can it be my fault?’
‘How do we even know it’s true? We’ve only got it from you. Who says you’re not lying?’
‘Why would I lie?’
‘Because of everything you’ve got to hide.’
‘I don’t have anything to hide.’
‘No,’ said the father, who was staring at the TV screen.
‘You keep out of it,’ said the mother. ‘Where could that poor child have got to?’
‘The uncle,’ the husband said. ‘That brother of yours. Is he still alive?’
‘And kicking!’ the father said. ‘He’s not even seventy yet.’
‘Where’s he live?’
‘You think she’s at his place?’ the mother asked.
‘She’s not there,’ the father said.
‘He already phoned him. She’s not there. Unless he’s lying. That’s quite possible too, of course. He’s stark staring mad.’
There was more singing and judging on TV. The father had turned it up after his wife’s last remark. He was sitting much too close; it was hard to believe he could see anything at all with his nose pressed against the screen like that. Or was it a way of making himself invisible, so that he could comment safely from the sidelines now and then?
‘Money,’ said the father.
‘What?’
‘Don’t you get statements from the bank? Showing what’s been withdrawn, where and when. She needs money, doesn’t she?’
‘I get statements,’ the husband said. ‘Not her. She does it all online. I don’t have access. We have separate accounts.’
‘If you ask me, you’ve got plenty to hide,’ the mother said. ‘You turned out to be an arsonist, after all.’
The husband sighed.
‘Not having any kids, that’s your fault too. I’m sure of it.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Didn’t she tell you about the tests?’
‘What tests?’
‘The tests I’ve had.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘That’s obvious.’
‘I want a glass of wine.’
‘What?’ said the father.
‘I said I want a glass of wine. White.’
‘Help yourself.’
‘You serve your son-in-law and I have to help myself?’
‘Yes,’ said the father. ‘I’m watching TV. And you never drink.’
The mother stood up and walked to the kitchen. The husband pondered the ferocity she had put into the phrase ‘son-in-law’ and waited for his father-in-law to turn round. To say something to him. Man to man. Light flickered through the living room.
‘Why do all these people make such fools of themselves?’ said the father.
The husband shrugged.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Don’t you want to be on TV?’
‘Nope.’
‘They do. No matter what.’
‘In the old days she always used to look out the window on St Nicholas’ Eve. She was the kind of kid who’d sit with her face up close to the glass and stare out at the wet streets.’
‘What about the presents?’ asked the husband.
‘Yes, she was interested in them too, of course, but still…’ The father looked at the screen. ‘What bothers memost,’ he said quietly, ‘is that she said “really”. There’s
really
no need to worry.’
The mother came back. She was holding a glass that was quarter filled with wine. After sitting down and taking a mouthful, she pulled a wry face. ‘So you’re fine?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me at all.’
‘When was that?’
‘Last autumn.’
‘Did she get herself tested too?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she didn’t think it was necessary?’
‘Are you asking me?’
‘No, I’m just saying.’
‘If I were her, I’d get myself tested too.’
All three of them drank and stared at the TV. A youth in shorts and woolly socks with a bare, tattooed upper body leapt around the studio. He screamed all kinds of things, but they couldn’t follow him at all. Maybe he came from the east of the country. The husband didn’t want to think about the student. He wanted to stay calm.
‘After all, it’s getting pretty late in the
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