Free Frankie Styne & the Silver Man by Kathy Page Page A

father?’ She sat down and gestured at Liz to do the same. ‘Smoke? I know I shouldn’t and I don’t often, but I always buy some duty free to offer around.
    â€˜Of course, Tom and I would want the opposite! We’re always arguing at the moment. Didn’t used to be like that. You see, Tom’s had an affair—lasted two years. I had no idea until the end.’ She smiled brightly. ‘It’s over now, but I find I can’t forget about it for long. What I can’t do is understand. I mean, at the time, we were at it twice a day. What more can you do? I keep myself in shape—well, don’t you think?’
    A shape, yes, Liz thought, slipping back into the morning’s observant alien; humans do vary enormously . . . The emerald-green covering seems to be made of something very soft, and the big buckled belt seems very tight but has no obvious practical function . . . The hair is very curly and bounces as she talks—investigate possibility of some kind of transmission system . . .
    â€˜Then I find out he’s still been dropping in on this other cow—excuse me—on the way home from work. Well it’s really all over now, but the slightest thing sets me off. Then that makes him feel guilty. A few nights ago he said to me: “Alice, I’ve hurt you so much and I still am. I think I should just clear out and you’d be happier on your own.” He was crying. I felt dreadful. But then I thought, you just want me to make it easy . . .’ Alice exhaled, staring at the blur of washing opposite. Liz didn’t think she could tell her to save her breath because she already knew. Instead she made to reach for her carrier bags.
    Alice grasped her wrist. Again the nails bit home. ‘Look—I wanted to ask you something . . . I wanted to say—you would tell me, wouldn’t you, if you saw him—saw him with someone else?’ For the first time, she stopped talking and waited for a reply. It was like kidnapping. No—hijack. At wordpoint. The woman could hire herself out to terrorist groups and slip onto a plane without any suspicion at all . . . Liz had watched a programme about hijacking, ages ago. You couldn’t so much as cough or move your arm without someone poking a gun in your face. One of the passengers became hysterical, just suddenly stood up and waved her arms then tried to run down the plane. They shot her in the leg. Hijackers wanted you alive until they decided different, or lost their cool.
    â€˜Would you?’
    â€˜Oh, sure,’ Liz said, in much the same way as she’d answered that other talker, Purvis—because it was easiest. But at the same time it was difficult . . . She leaned back into the vinyl chair, breathing out and trying to think of snow, acres of it, undisturbed. It often calmed her down, but was hard to do in a sweltering launderette beset by a swarm of words, just when she was wondering whether they were necessary at all. Well, she calculated, I’ve missed Purvis. That’s a Silver Lining, or almost. Jim’s nose was running badly. She shifted herself, searching for a tissue. Beaming, Alice held one out.
    â€˜Now,’ she was saying, bright and very matter of fact, ‘it turns out that she’s pregnant! She sent a letter to his work. I found it in his lunchbox, but he said he was going to show me anyway. So maybe that’s why; he’s always wanted a baby but we’ve never had any luck. But he says not. So I said, maybe it’s not yours. So he said, yes, he thought that too and he’d tell her he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Do you think he’ll stick to that though? It just isn’t fair. We’ve been trying for years, particularly the last two. We’ve had some tests—there’s nothing wrong. So maybe it’s psychological. That’s why the