Ostrich Country. David Nobbs

whose false hoarse laughter shook the mock-Tudor beams and set the antique swords rattling on the walls. Yet she had been a success. She thought she could count herself, to date, a reasonable success. It was Tony who had been the failure. Already he was bored. He’d found a new toy, a doll. The lies had begun again. The accusations and scenes would follow.

      And it had all begun with a lie. She had seen his entry in the visitors’ book. Mr and Mrs Hassett. So much for his business trip to Suffolk.

      She soaked her face-flannel in hot water and applied it to the spot above her lip. She held it there, feeling a sexual excitement in these preparations. Her throat was tickling, the approach of a cold. All his fault. Whenever the lies began she had some minor ailment. It was her system’s way of getting rid of the poison.

      She took away the flannel and pressed a finger of each hand against the horrid little pimple. It popped and the white poison shot out. She wiped it off with her flannel. It was Tony. It was her husband, in suppurative form, and when it was gone she hated him less.

      That was better. Nothing nauseous about a dull, red excrescence. Ready to go now.

      She walked over to Rose Lodge, wondering if Tony had sent the poor boy there on purpose. It was sensible enough, on the face of it. There wasn’t room at the hotel. It would take their minds off their tragedy. And yet she felt sure that it was done in anger. He was annoyed because she had made the appointment on her own. Only he could do things on his own.

      Brenda showed her up to Pegasus’s room.

      ‘He’s a nice boy,’ she said.

      ‘Oh good.’

      ‘Bill likes him.’

      Pegasus opened the door and asked her in. She sat in the armchair and he sat in the hard chair. She had never once been unfaithful to Tony.

      ‘Would you like a cigarette?’ she said, offering her packet of tipped.

      ‘No, thanks, I don’t. I should offer you some but I haven’t any.’

      ‘I just came to see how you were getting on,’ said Jane.

      ‘All right, thank you.’

      ‘You heard about their tragedy, I suppose?’

      ‘Yes. They told me.’

      ‘They should have removed all these toys and things. It’s embarrassing for you.’

      She stood up and went to the window.

      ‘At least you have a nice view,’ she said, instantly regretting the ‘at least’.

      ‘Yes. Very nice.’

      She turned away from the window and smiled at him. He was still seated. She wanted to touch him. She felt a sneeze coming on, turned away politely, sneezed.

      ‘Bless you,’ he said.

      When she turned round again he looked embarrassed. Why? He seemed tense too, but it wasn’t enough to go on. All this was in her imagination. She was in danger of making a fool of herself.

      She sat down and took a deliberate puff at her cigarette, keeping herself calm.

      ‘Is the bed comfortable?’ she said.

      ‘Very, thank you.’

      She crossed her legs, felt this to be a little theatrical, and uncrossed them.

      ‘I must say I wouldn’t like having those books and toys there,’ she said.

      ‘I would be happier if they were moved,’ said Pegasus, ‘but I don’t like to mention it.’

      ‘No. It’s difficult. Well I’m glad to see that apart from that you’re very comfortable.’

      ‘Yes. Very. And the view is very nice.’

      A hiatus.

      ‘It must seem quiet after London?’

      ‘Yes, it does.’

      ‘Even with all the planes?’

      ‘We get those in London too.’

      What a conversation! She must go, and it would be quite wrong anyway to use him as a pawn in her battle with Tony. She had never used anyone in that way. He might even be engaged.

      ‘How did you get on with Alphonse?’ she said.

      ‘Very well, I think.’

      ‘We’ve only had him three weeks. He’s very gallic.’

      ‘Yes.’

      She decided it was stupid not to cross her legs, just because if done self-consciously it might seem theatrical. So she crossed her legs. Then she sneezed.

      ‘Bless you,’ he said, and then he looked embarrassed. Why?

      ‘If you ever have any problems, let me know,’ she said.

      ‘Yes, I will.’

      She must go. She stood up abruptly and to her surprise found herself not at the door but at the window, looking out over the fields and woods of Lord Noseby’s estate. He joined her there and they stood side by side, looking out over Lord Noseby’s estate. She could feel his body, touching hers ever so slightly, either by accident or deliberately but made to seem like an accident.

      ‘At least you have a nice view,’ she said.

      ‘I’m sure I shall be very comfortable,’ he said.

      There was a knock at the door. Both of them turned away from the window and returned to their chairs.

      ‘Come in,’ she said, forgetting it was not her room.

      Brenda entered with three cups of coffee and three huge portions of iced chocolate cake.

      ‘I was thinking you might like some coffee,’ said Brenda.

      ‘Oh, thank you,’ said Pegasus.

      ‘Very thoughtful,’ said Jane.

      The sun came out. Jane as employer sat in the easy chair. Brenda as landlady sat in the hard chair. Pegasus as Pegasus sat on his bed.

      ‘I hope he likes the room,’ said Brenda.

      ‘I’m sure he does,’ said Jane.

      ‘I do,’ said Pegasus.

      ‘It has a nice view,’ said Brenda.

      ‘Yes, it does,’ said Jane.

      ‘Little Johnny liked this room,’ said Brenda.

      ‘Did he?’ said Pegasus.

      They took bites of their cake and washed the cake down with draughts of hot coffee.

      ‘We must move all these books and toys,’ said Brenda.

      8

      ‘Look after yourself,’ said Bill.

      ‘Take care,’ said Brenda.

      They continued waving until he was out of sight. Where do they think I’m going, he thought. Round the world? All I’m doing is going home for the week-end.

      He hadn’t realized what a relief it would be to get away even for two days, away from the nightly cocoa sessions, the constant plans for a picnic, the ‘Wednesday Play’ being switched off the moment he came in, as if it was considered quite unsuitable for him.

      He’d taken to reading Johnny’s books, in order to avoid conversation. Rather childish, on the whole, but there were no others. And Bill seemed to expect it. ‘You’ll find plenty of books up there,’ he said.

      It was a lovely Saturday morning. Pegasus felt like singing, would have sung if he’d had the talent.

      Forget Rose Lodge. Think how well the work’s going. Alphonse likes you. ‘Ah, Pegasus, you