Free Serious Sweet by A.L. Kennedy Page B

I have to, ahm, do this for myself, you know?’ Her hand making small contrapuntal squeezes at his while she spoke. ‘Terry’s better to me than you think. You have to believe me about that and try and be civil.’ The boat kicking merrily under them for a playful moment, then pressing on.
    He’d rushed into the promise, ‘I will.’ One he couldn’t keep. ‘I will. I’m sorry. I’ve been getting anxious.’ Inside a pocket of his coat there was the flinch of his phone as it gathered a text, the small noise that warned him of incoming communications. Becky glowered at the interruption and he blurted, ‘I’m not answering. I won’t. I’ll turn it off, even … if you want.’
    â€˜Do what you like.’ She undoubtedly knew this would always drive Jon to do what she would like. ‘Dad, I don’t need the lectures about women.’
    â€˜No. I realise. It’s presumptuous. I simply … The only country in the world where there’s a majority of women in a parliament is Rwanda. Rwanda. That’s when women get power, real power – if the men are either dead or in prison. Convicted genocidaires. A high percentage.’
    â€˜Could we not talk about genocide.’
    â€˜Sorry.’
    â€˜It’s not that I don’t get it. And I care. And I made a donation to that place you said I should.’
    â€˜Did you?’ Turning to look at her and realising that his expression would be this dreadful, fond open smile, this doting that probably seemed absurd both to observers and Rebecca. ‘They’re good people. The money goes where it should. If you can afford it.’
    â€˜I gave them fifty quid – it’s not going to render me homeless. Can we just sit and enjoy this and then have lunch. Not on the boat and not in the hotel – somewhere we can relax. I’ll buy you lunch.’
    â€˜No, I should.’
    â€˜You paid for the holiday.’
    â€˜And the depressing hotel.’
    â€˜And the depressing hotel. Do you understand that I hate it when you’re sad and that I would rather you weren’t and when you volunteer for it – what am I meant to do?’
    â€˜Nothing. You don’t … I don’t expect …’ Having to stare down at this nesting of hands at his knee – hers and his – rather than face her and become … something else she would hate because it would look like sadness, when mostly he got wet-eyed over good fortune rather than injuries and his good fortune was her and that was the issue currently in play. ‘Please let’s, yes, pick somewhere for lunch and have a nice meal before the plane and then … I really did, I really have, I really have enjoyed this time. I appreciate it.’ Nodding and breathing raggedly.
    And she’d kissed him underneath his left ear, softly clumsy like a girl and this had torn his last level of restraint and made him sniff. And he was nodding and grinning and uneven in his heartwhile she’d released his hand – it was cold once she was as gone as gone – and she’d worked her arm in behind him, hugged his waist, and leaned her head snug to his shoulder. Berlin had progressed outside in blinks and smudges and he’d kept nodding and nodding while Rebecca fitted herself to him until they were comfortable.
    He’d let his cheek drift over and away from her, find the glass and settle. And his daughter was wonderful and that was something very plain, along with how remarkable it was that two wrong parents had produced the beginnings of such a person, given her enough to build upon.
    And his daughter rode a bicycle to work – cycled in London – which was reckless of her, crazy of her, and yet unpreventable.
    And any slighting references to cyclists became, therefore, provocations that outstripped his ability to express outrage –