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By Root 528 0

‘Past Definite; Future Uncertain: time and social dynamics of a mangrove community in Southern Malaysia’, was the fruit of her recent field trip to the Malacca Straits. There, she had joined what she imagined was a community of contemporary pirates, with a view to conducting anthropological research into their domestic economy. The pirates, it was later revealed, were not real pirates after all – or not pirates in the sense in which the term is understood by the International Maritime Safety authorities in Kuala Lumpur. Although they disappeared each morning in high-powered boats, Domenica had discovered that their destination was not the high seas at all, but a town down the coast, where they worked in a pirate CD factory, infringing the intellectual property rights of various crooners and inexplicably popular rock bands. That had been a setback for Domenica, but it had not prevented her from completing a useful piece of research on the way in which the community’s sense of time affected social relationships.

The paper had been well received. One of the referees for the journal had written: ‘The author demonstrates convincingly that a sense of being on the wrong side of history changes everything. The social devices by which people protect themselves from confronting the truth that there is a terminus to their existence as a community are laid bare by the author. A triumph.’ And now here it was, that triumph, in off-print form, with an attractive cover of chalk-blue, the physical result of all that heat and discomfort.

When the box containing the sixty off-prints had been delivered by the postman, Domenica had immediately left the house and walked round to Angus Lordie’s flat in Drummond Place, clutching one of the copies.

‘My paper,’ she said, as Angus invited her in. ‘You will see that I have inscribed it to you. Look. There.’

Angus opened the cover and saw, on the inside, the sentence which Domenica had inscribed in black ink. To Angus Lordie, the inscription read, who stayed behind. From your friend, Domenica Macdonald. He reread the sentence, and then looked up. ‘Why have you written who stayed behind?’ he asked. His tone was peevish.

Domenica shrugged. ‘Well, you did, didn’t you? I went to the Malacca Straits, and you stayed behind in Edinburgh. I’m simply stating what happened.’

Angus frowned. ‘But anybody reading this would think that I was some . . . some sort of coward. It’s almost as if you’re giving me a white feather.’

Domenica drew in her breath. She had not intended that, and it was quite ridiculous of Angus to suggest it. ‘I meant no such thing,’ she said. ‘There are absolutely no aspersions being cast on . . .’

‘Yes, there are,’ said Angus petulantly. ‘And you never asked me whether I’d like to go. Saying that somebody stayed behind suggests that they were at least given the chance to go along. But I wasn’t. You never gave me the chance to go.’

‘Well, really!’ said Domenica. ‘You made it very clear that you didn’t like the idea of my going to the Malacca Straits in the first place. You said that in the little speech you gave at my dinner party before I left. You did. I heard you, Angus. Remember I was there!’

‘It would be a very strange dinner party where the hostess was not there,’ said Angus quickly. ‘If one wrote a note to such a hostess one would have to say: “To one who stayed away.” Yes! That’s what one would have to write.’

Domenica bit her lip. She knew that Angus had his moody moments, but this was quite ridiculous. She was now sorry that she had come to see him at all, and was certainly regretting having brought him the off-print. ‘You’re behaving in a very childish way, Angus,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’ve got a good mind to take my paper away from you. There are plenty of people who would appreciate it, you know.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ said Angus. ‘I can’t see why anybody would want to read it. I certainly won’t.’

Domenica bristled with anger. ‘In that case,’ she said. ‘I’m taking it back. The gift is cancelled.’

She reached across to snatch the off-print from Angus. She felt the