with your surname.'
'Most people do. It's Smith hyphen Jones hyphen Brown.'
'So, what do people call you?'
'Charlie—!'
We laughed.
'But,' I said, 'how did you manage to get all these people together?'
Then Barbara Bagenal said, 'Don't worry, dear,' to Virginia. 'I'll sort out the fonts. Why don't you lie down?'
Melvyn said, 'Charlie, there's someone I'd like you to meet,' and took me over to yet another corner to a man who looked shy and awkward. 'Charlie, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, Charlie.'
We shook hands. Melvyn said, 'Jeremy, Charlie's just had an interesting experience,' then slipped into the background.
I said, 'Oh, I've just come from that place which some people call home...'
Jeremy tilted his head in an erudite way and gave a polite, inquiring smile.
'...and this guy called Martin drove me home but jumped out of the car while—no, whilst —we were moving. It was an American car.'
'Charlie, what is it you do? '
'I live here—this is my gaff—but I've got to be honest with you, Jeremy, I hate socialising. I feel awkward.'
'Me too, but there is a minimum you must do. On the other hand, William won't do any. That's one of the privileges of success—you don't have to.'
A woman came up and kissed Jeremy on the forehead. He blushed. Noticing this and in order to disembarrass him she held her hand out to me and said, 'Hi, I'm Sarah. How are you?'
'I'm fine, thanks.' We paused before I said, 'Melvyn's very clever at organising, but this is my place.'
'Oh, we know,' she said. 'We wanted to give you a good homecoming.'
'Yes, but how does Ffion fit into it all?'
I turned; Ffion had fled.
'Who?' said Sarah; Jeremy looked relieved to have passed the social responsibility to her.
'The red-haired girl.'
She said, 'Do you mean Edna?'
'No,' I laughed. 'Not Edna.'
She was practised at putting people at their ease. She said, 'Have you eaten yet, Charlie?'
'No. I can't wait. I've got to get in there before Norman takes it all.'
She said, 'Isn't he a pig?'
'Saul Bellow has more manners.'
'So, Charlie,' said Sarah. 'What do you do? '
'I write software.'
'What sort?'
'For financial services—keep the wheels of commerce moving. I work for the Aristocard Credit Card Company.'
'Those jokers!' she said. 'They wouldn't give me a card.' She paused. 'Are they British?'
'No. It's an oriental outfit.'
Jeremy looked up and said, 'Run by a bunch of slit-eyed, yellow-heads!'
Which I thought rather funny, so smiled; but he blushed then I blushed. Sarah promptly said,
'Quite a spread Melvyn's laid on.'
I said, 'Who did the catering?'
'Oh, it was Jane.' I furrowed my brow. 'Jane Asher, of course.' I watched Sarah's mind jump to a conclusion: 'When you said red hair you didn't mean...?'
'No. Ffion is totally separate. I think she was born in Wales but doesn't have a Welsh accent. She has one of those neutral intonations—a sort of general purpose, undergraduate accident—I mean, accent.'
Jeremy sucked through his teeth and raised an eyebrow: 'Interesting slip, Charlie.'
Now, Martin was in deep discussion with Saul and I overheard:
'...but we leave a shadow...'
Suddenly above all the babble came:
'Does anyone want this last chicken leg?'
'I tell you what, Norman,' said the man who'd tried to sell me drugs, 'why don't you have it.'
Saul whispered something to Martin that I couldn't hear; somebody else shouted:
'Why don't you wash it down with a flagon of liquor.'
We all turned to see a tall white-haired, white-bearded man with a fishing rod in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Norman Mailer looked across:
'Ernest!'
Ernest said, 'Et tu Brute?' And they laughed at some long-standing joke.
Melvyn reappeared and said,
'Charlie, you like wordplay. Here's someone you should meet. Tom, this is Charlie.'
Now I was becoming confused: was it Tom Stoppard, Tom Eliot or Tom Wolfe? (Tom Cruise...? Tom, Tom the piper's son?) Melvyn had crammed everyone into my flat; I turned to Melvyn and said, 'Aren't you the
'Most people do. It's Smith hyphen Jones hyphen Brown.'
'So, what do people call you?'
'Charlie—!'
We laughed.
'But,' I said, 'how did you manage to get all these people together?'
Then Barbara Bagenal said, 'Don't worry, dear,' to Virginia. 'I'll sort out the fonts. Why don't you lie down?'
Melvyn said, 'Charlie, there's someone I'd like you to meet,' and took me over to yet another corner to a man who looked shy and awkward. 'Charlie, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, Charlie.'
We shook hands. Melvyn said, 'Jeremy, Charlie's just had an interesting experience,' then slipped into the background.
I said, 'Oh, I've just come from that place which some people call home...'
Jeremy tilted his head in an erudite way and gave a polite, inquiring smile.
'...and this guy called Martin drove me home but jumped out of the car while—no, whilst —we were moving. It was an American car.'
'Charlie, what is it you do? '
'I live here—this is my gaff—but I've got to be honest with you, Jeremy, I hate socialising. I feel awkward.'
'Me too, but there is a minimum you must do. On the other hand, William won't do any. That's one of the privileges of success—you don't have to.'
A woman came up and kissed Jeremy on the forehead. He blushed. Noticing this and in order to disembarrass him she held her hand out to me and said, 'Hi, I'm Sarah. How are you?'
'I'm fine, thanks.' We paused before I said, 'Melvyn's very clever at organising, but this is my place.'
'Oh, we know,' she said. 'We wanted to give you a good homecoming.'
'Yes, but how does Ffion fit into it all?'
I turned; Ffion had fled.
'Who?' said Sarah; Jeremy looked relieved to have passed the social responsibility to her.
'The red-haired girl.'
She said, 'Do you mean Edna?'
'No,' I laughed. 'Not Edna.'
She was practised at putting people at their ease. She said, 'Have you eaten yet, Charlie?'
'No. I can't wait. I've got to get in there before Norman takes it all.'
She said, 'Isn't he a pig?'
'Saul Bellow has more manners.'
'So, Charlie,' said Sarah. 'What do you do? '
'I write software.'
'What sort?'
'For financial services—keep the wheels of commerce moving. I work for the Aristocard Credit Card Company.'
'Those jokers!' she said. 'They wouldn't give me a card.' She paused. 'Are they British?'
'No. It's an oriental outfit.'
Jeremy looked up and said, 'Run by a bunch of slit-eyed, yellow-heads!'
Which I thought rather funny, so smiled; but he blushed then I blushed. Sarah promptly said,
'Quite a spread Melvyn's laid on.'
I said, 'Who did the catering?'
'Oh, it was Jane.' I furrowed my brow. 'Jane Asher, of course.' I watched Sarah's mind jump to a conclusion: 'When you said red hair you didn't mean...?'
'No. Ffion is totally separate. I think she was born in Wales but doesn't have a Welsh accent. She has one of those neutral intonations—a sort of general purpose, undergraduate accident—I mean, accent.'
Jeremy sucked through his teeth and raised an eyebrow: 'Interesting slip, Charlie.'
Now, Martin was in deep discussion with Saul and I overheard:
'...but we leave a shadow...'
Suddenly above all the babble came:
'Does anyone want this last chicken leg?'
'I tell you what, Norman,' said the man who'd tried to sell me drugs, 'why don't you have it.'
Saul whispered something to Martin that I couldn't hear; somebody else shouted:
'Why don't you wash it down with a flagon of liquor.'
We all turned to see a tall white-haired, white-bearded man with a fishing rod in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Norman Mailer looked across:
'Ernest!'
Ernest said, 'Et tu Brute?' And they laughed at some long-standing joke.
Melvyn reappeared and said,
'Charlie, you like wordplay. Here's someone you should meet. Tom, this is Charlie.'
Now I was becoming confused: was it Tom Stoppard, Tom Eliot or Tom Wolfe? (Tom Cruise...? Tom, Tom the piper's son?) Melvyn had crammed everyone into my flat; I turned to Melvyn and said, 'Aren't you the
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