Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [143]
It did not take long to cover the walls with the easily-applied white paint. Stuart worked feverishly, oblivious to the spots of Discussions Take Place Between Irene and Stuart 301
paint which were appearing on Bertie’s carpet. From time to time he looked at his watch, and listened for any sound from the hall. But no sound came, and he continued with his work until the entire room had been transformed. No pink was to be seen. It was gone. Now Bertie could bring any friend home and he would never suspect that anything was amiss. When he had finished, Stuart tucked the empty tins and the painting equipment into a cupboard. Then, having made a not altogether successful attempt to clean the paint off the carpet, he returned to the main bedroom and changed. The paint-spattered clothes he tossed to the floor in a heap. Then he went to the kitchen and poured himself a large whisky.
There was the sound of a key in the front door and voices.
“And remember, Bertie,” said Irene, her voice drifting in from the hall to the kitchen where Stuart sat. “Remember that you’ve got extra Italian this week. That nice story about a little Italian boy who . . .”
There was a sudden silence. Stuart looked into his empty whisky glass. It would have been reassuring to have Terry with him at the moment, he thought.
92. Discussions Take Place Between Irene and Stuart The silence was broken by Bertie. “My room!” he shouted.
“Look, Mummy! My room’s turned white!”
The joy in Bertie’s voice was unmistakable and indeed became even more apparent with his next exclamation. He did not use Italian spontaneously now, but this was an occasion, he thought, when Italian seemed more eloquent than English. “Miracolo!”
he shouted. “Miracolo!”
Irene, standing at the door to Bertie’s room, surveying the transformation, was momentarily lost for words. But then she found her voice.
“What on earth has happened here?” she said. “Somebody has painted . . .”
302 Discussions Take Place Between Irene and Stuart She stepped into the room and noticed the periodic table, torn up and tossed into the bin. She picked it up gingerly, as a detective might pick up a piece of evidence at the scene of the crime.
“Isn’t it nice?” asked Bertie, nervously. He realised that his mother was far from pleased and he dreaded the possibility that she would immediately repaint it in pink. “I think white is such a good colour for . . .” He was going to say “for boys” but he knew that would merely provoke his mother. So he finished by saying “for rooms”.
“We can talk about that later on,” said Irene grimly. “In the meantime, don’t touch anything. We don’t want you getting paint on your dungarees.”
She turned on her heel and went through to the kitchen.
“Well!” she said, glaring at Stuart. “Somebody’s been busy!”
Stuart looked at her coolly. “I thought it was about time that we redecorated Bertie’s room,” he said. “I did it quite quickly, actually. You got a problem with that?”
Discussions Take Place Between Irene and Stuart 303
“What?” hissed Irene. “What do you mean have I got a problem?”
Stuart shrugged. “You seem a bit taken aback. I thought you would be pleased to discover that your husband’s a skilled painter.”
Irene turned and slammed the kitchen door behind her. She did not want Bertie to hear what was to come.
“Have you gone mad?” she asked. “Have you gone out of your mind?”
“No,” said Stuart, adding: “Have you?”
Irene took several steps forward. “Listen to me, Stuart, I don’t know what’s come over you, but you’ve got a bit of explaining to do. What are you thinking of, for heaven’s sake?”
Stuart held her gaze. “I decided that it was about time we let Bertie have one or two things his way. It’s been perfectly apparent for some time that he did not like his pink room. Nor, for that matter, does he like those pink dungarees of his.”
“Crushed strawberry,” corrected Irene. She shook her head, as if to adjust a confused picture of