Free The Information Junkie by Roderick Leyland Page B

I'm married?'
    'No,' she said. 'It's me.'
    There was a silence as we both considered the situation. I looked around: there were no signs of anyone else. I said,
    'Are you here alone?'
    'Yes.'
    'But this doesn't belong to you. Does it?'
    'It does now.'
    'What about your London gaff?' I asked.
    'I'm leaving it.'
    I looked around again. 'But where are your books?'
    'They're following on.'
    Following on...
    She said, 'I'm chilling at the moment. I must sort out my life and need to be alone to do that.'
    'Well, you've picked the right place.'
    She now did one of those unpredictable things: she smiled and you could see a sort of warmth go round her heart. She came up to me, cupped my face with her hands—those freckly hands with perfectly manicured nails and wonderful cuticles—then kissed me warmly, softly on the lips.
    'Oh, Charlie,' she said. 'If only it could have been different.'
    Now, babies, I couldn't tell the doc all that, could I? He'd think I'd really flipped. Although he sort of did, anyway, didn't he? So I think we'll just leave him on the back burner for the moment. Mm? Yes, I know Belinda's on one. So, he's on the other. Thus: Belinda's on the back burner; doc's on the rear ring. Okay?
    'Have you eaten, Charlie?'
    Wow, babes!!! Was I in for a repeat treat? Would it be another chilled lager and some Mediterranean concoction? Mm........? Was I in for something laced with an expensive olive oil? Or was it going to be a rancid cheese sandwich? Listen to me:
    I said, 'No. What have you got?'
    'I'll make you something nice,' she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
    I noticed, next to a small vase of what appeared to be crocuses, a half-completed newspaper crossword. I wanted it all to be different. I wanted life to be simple. I wanted life to work out easily. I didn't want complications. Could it work out this time? The sense that I was betraying Belinda ate into me and yet it didn't seem wrong to be here.
    When Ffion reappeared I could smell smells. I said:
    'Why the double vellum?'
    She gave me a quizzical look. I said:
    'Why the two epistles?'
    She didn't understand. I said:
    'You dropped me a pair of painful parchments. That second             papyrus was a killer.'
    'What are you on about, Charlie?'
    'After our second meeting you disappeared and put a note through my door. And when I next saw you, with Martin, you sent me a vicious vellum, a poisonous papyrus.'
    She said, 'I know you.'
    'What do you mean?'
    She said, 'You like words on paper, don't you?'
    Oh, buddies. She'd seen through me. Hadn't she? She knew—she knew. Oh, yes:
    'I know you,' she said. 'You don't like electronic words. Do you? You want ink on paper. I wish it could have been an organic dye—a mixture of oak galls, gum arabic and rainwater—on handmade rag paper. You'll never be satisfied, Charlie, with an electronic missive, a virtual message. Perhaps I should have had it tattooed on my forehead, then come round to see you.'
    'Tattooed?'
    'Yes: CHARLIE, IT WON'T WORK, etched in organic, Celtic blue on my forehead.' Then she laughed, disclosing a set of small, perfectly-formed teeth. There were at least thirty-two, possibly more. I've spoken with my dentist about that. Oh, yes: more of him later... But listen: she displayed those perfect teeth but they were slightly discoloured by cigarettes although she no longer smoked.
    'Oh,' she said. 'I used to, as a student.'
    Now listen: we all have thirty-two teeth and dentists number them from one to eight, front to back, in four quadrants, viz. upper left, upper right; lower left, lower right. So, your wisdom teeth are number eights. Now, my dentist tells me he's seen some nines!!! Wow, buddies!!! Imagine that for a gift. Anyway, look, I couldn't just say to Ffion, 'Open your mouth a mo and let me count the contents of your quadrants.' Could I? Thought about it, though. Perhaps later... Now, listen:
    She said, 'We're having pulses.' Said she'd given up the flesh.
    I asked why. She was