Free Requiem by Clare Francis

impossible to take offence.
    ‘You know how it is.’
    ‘Nick would have loved you to stay. So would I. Can’t you really?’ Alusha, for all her gentleness, had a streak of tenacity. But it was just this mixture of charm and quiet determination that seemed to make her relationship with Nick such a success. Not many women would have made the move from New York to the back-of-beyond; fewer still would have stuck a life of organic farming and long country walks.
    It was another ten minutes before Nick and Mel joined them. Mel looked stormy, Nick quietly pained: they had obviously had their discussion, complete with predictably unsatisfactory outcome.
    Mel’s mood didn’t bother David; he’d been desensitized by eighteen years of Mel-instigated dramas. Alusha was not so hardhearted. She directed all her attention towards Mel, trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. Typically Mel was not to be placated so easily, and after a time even Alusha had to admit temporary defeat.
    Nick, a peacemaker by nature, did his best to make conversation. Then, without warning, he said: ‘What about that charity concert Amazon were offered some time ago, David? The one in aid of the rain forests. Are we still considering that?’
    David could hardly believe his ears. The concert invitation had actually been for Nick, but that wasn’t the point. Nick was talking about ‘we’, he was talking about Amazon. ‘Well – no. You said … You … I turned it down. They’ve advertised it now.’
    ‘Is there something else we could do? A one-off charity thing.’ Nick shot a guileless look in Mel’s direction. ‘If it’s all right with everyone else, of course. And if it could be fitted in on our way to Caycoo in the autumn.’
    David recovered himself. ‘It could be fixed, sure,’ he said swiftly.
    ‘Something worthwhile,’ Nick continued. ‘You know, something we all feel strongly about.’ This wasn’t just a small conciliatory gesture on Nick’s part, it was a massive act of generosity, and David was relieved to see from Mel’s expression that he had the grace to realize it.
    ‘You name the charity, they’ve been asking for you,’ David said. ‘You only have to choose.’ He immediately flicked his memory through the large quantity of requests that regularly flowed into the office and, inventing what he couldn’t remember, listed a few ideas. The discussion roamed from whales to the ozone layer and back again, without decision.
    ‘What about the clean water campaign?’ Nick suggested. ‘I don’t imagine it gets much attention. Not glamorous enough.’
    Mel dug himself out of his mood sufficiently to make a typically unhelpful comment. ‘Clean water – isn’t that the government’s bag? I mean, where would our money be going?’
    Not surprisingly, Nick knew something about the subject and patiently took Mel through it. Not for the first time David was struck by the contrast between the two: Nick, articulate, rational, restrained; Mel, thorny, mercurial, forever a victim of his own instincts and therefore life. Nick had had some education – grammar school and a year at Newcastle University – while Mel, like Joe, had left school at fifteen. But the contrast went far beyond that. Sometimes David wondered how Amazon had held together for as long as it did.
    Mel announced himself unconvinced on the clean water campaign and, it seemed, on most other ideas as well. ‘Everyone’s on that bandwagon,’ he kept saying. ‘It’d look like we were desperate to cash in or something.’
    There was an inconclusive pause. Determined not to let the idea wither, David dredged his memory further. ‘There’s always famine. That’s got a good image. Even better, famine and children. The Save the Children Fund are having a famine-relief drive for the Sudan, I think it is. You can’t go wrong with Save the Children. Worthy. Caring image. One of their fund raisers has been after you for months.’ The fund raiser had actually been