Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [135]
“That’s very kind of you to say that.”
“I mean it.”
“Well, thank you. I’m the one who should be giving you a present. These months have been happy ones for me, too.”
He took off the rest of the paper and held the painting out at arm’s length. He said nothing at first, and then he smiled at her. “I like harbours,” he said. “And I particularly like this one.”
“Matthew thought you would,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow at the mention of his son’s name. “My Matthew? He said that?”
“It was his idea,” Janis said. “I wanted to get you something. He thought you would like this.”
I’m not telling a complete lie, she told herself. Matthew had implied that he would like it and had not actively discouraged her from buying the painting. That, by a short leap, could be interpreted as being behind the idea. Gordon looked at the painting again. “That was thoughtful of him,” he said. He paused. “How was he? I mean, how did you find him? The other night at the club . . .”
Janis shook her head. “I understand,” she said. “It can’t be easy for him. People are jealous of their parents. They don’t like to see them with other people. It doesn’t matter if you’re eight or twenty-eight. These feelings can be very strong.”
He looked down at the tablecloth. “I don’t know what to do. If we ask him to join us for anything, we’ll just have a repeat of last time. Surly, immature behaviour.”
“That’s because he loves you. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t care at all.”
“But it makes it very hard for you, doesn’t it?” he said. “And it’ll be even harder when we tell him that we’re getting married . . .”
He stopped himself. He coloured deeply. He reached for his Domenica Takes Food to Angus
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table napkin and the sudden action sent another glass to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he stuttered. “That was a slip of the tongue. I wasn’t . . .”
“But I accept,” said Janis. “Don’t worry. I accept.”
The waiter reappeared, brush and pan in hand.
“I’ve done it again,” said Gordon. “I’ll pay for all these glasses. Please add them to the bill.”
The waiter shook his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he said.
“Do you have any champagne glasses?” asked Gordon. “Not that I intend to break those. But I think we’re going to need a bottle of champagne.”
The waiter went off to fetch the champagne and the glasses. By the time that he returned, Gordon had discreetly opened his wallet and extracted a crisp Bank of Scotland fifty-pound note, which he slipped into the waiter’s hand.
“You’re very kind,” said the waiter.
Janis thought: But there’s 10,999,950 more where that came from.
87. Domenica Takes Food to Angus
Angus Lordie did not often receive a visit from Domenica, but every now and then she would call in on him, usually unannounced, and usually bringing him a small present of food, normally cheese scones, which she baked herself.
“I’m convinced that you don’t feed yourself properly, Angus,”
said Domenica, placing a small bag of provisions on his kitchen table. “I’ve made you an apple pie and there’s a pound of sausages from that marvellous butcher down at the end of Broughton Street – the one who makes the real sausages. You do remember that wonderful line from Barbara Pym, do you not, where one of the characters says that men need meat? Not men in the sense of people in general, but men in the sense of males. Priceless!”
286 Domenica Takes Food to Angus
“And yet you’ve brought me a pound of sausages,” said Angus.
“For which, thank you very much indeed. But doesn’t that suggest that you, too, feel that men need meat?”
“Not at all,” said Domenica. “Men can get their protein from anywhere in the protein chain, if there’s such a thing. You’d be better off not eating meat at all, you know. Look at the statistics for the survival of vegetarians. They do much better. Perhaps I should take those sausages back.”
“As long as they drink,” said Angus. “Vegetarians who drink a couple of glasses of wine a day do terribly well.”
“A thirty-five per cent improvement in mortality,” said Domenica.
Angus Lordie peered at the sausages. “And yet the government can’t exactly