Free Before She Met Me by Julian Barnes Page B

into his long, all-purpose room and sat down without hesitation. Jack closed the front door carefully and followed her, smiling a little.
    ‘Coffee?’ Ann declined with her head. She was looking as pretty nowadays as Jack could ever remember: a smart, serious prettiness, all of whose elements matched.
    ‘Jack, I’ve come to get history straight.’
    ‘Oh dear. I thought it was going to be another session of marriage guidance. And I don’t mind telling you which partner I’d rather see stretched out on my couch.’
    ‘You were very kind to Graham.’
    ‘Didn’t do much. Just made up some stuff, as far as I can remember, along the lines of buying himself a new hat when he felt glum. Nearly told him all men really have the curse, but I didn’t think he’d swallow it.’
    ‘Well, he seemed calmer when he got home. He seemed to appreciate it.’
    ‘Any time.’
    Jack was standing in front of her, brown and squat, rocking backwards on his heels. He always looked a bit Welsh,she thought, though he wasn’t. He was wearing a brown tweed suit, an old leather waistcoat and a workman’s shirt; the gold stud threaded through the collar band was strictly for decoration. Ann had often wondered about the way Jack presented himself to the world: was he dressing down, in pursuit of a remembered or imagined yeoman simplicity; or was he dressing up, in pursuit of artistic carelessness? She had always been fobbed off when she’d asked serious quessions about Jack’s past; but didn’t mind. This time, however, she’d come to discuss her own past.
    ‘Jack,’ she said slowly, ‘I’ve decided we never had an affair.’
    He was going to laugh, but noticed how serious she was looking. Instead, he took his hands out of his pockets, brought his heels together and said sharply,
    ‘Sah!’
    ‘It came up last night. We were … well, Graham was listing some of my old boyfriends to me. He was a bit drunk. We were both a bit drunk. We seem to get drunk more often nowadays. Then he started crying, drinking and crying. I asked him what the matter was and he said the name of one of my old boyfriends. He just said “Benny”. Then he took another swig of wine and said, “Benny and Jed”. Then he took another swig and said, “Benny and Jed and Michael”. It was awful.’
    ‘Doesn’t sound much fun.’
    ‘And each time he took a swig he’d say the names, and each time he said the names he’d add a new one. And then he’d cry a bit more and take another swig.’ Ann reached for a tissue at the memory. ‘And then, after he’d been going for a while he suddenly added your name.’
    ‘And that was a surprise?’
    ‘Completely. At first I thought you must have told him about us when he came to see you, but then I thought that if you had, he wouldn’t have come home so cheerful. So I just said, “No, Graham”, quite firmly.’
    ‘Dead right, too.’
    ‘I felt a bit bad, because I don’t think I’ve lied to him before. I mean, the usual stuff about the tubes being held up or whatever, but nothing … like that.’
    ‘Well, you know my rule about affairs: maximum deception, minimum lying, maximum kindness. Don’t see why it shouldn’t apply to ones in the past as well.’
    ‘So I’m afraid I said No. I was sure you’d understand.’
    ‘Of course.’ In fact, Jack was a bit hurt; it felt as it did when someone turned you down, which was silly, though in a way accurate. ‘No problem. Pity about that chapter of the old autobiography, though. Would have bumped up the advance.’
    ‘I’m sorry to rewrite your past for you.’
    ‘Don’t bother, I’m always doing it myself. Every time I tell a story it’s different. Can’t remember how most of them started off any more. Don’t know what’s true. Don’t know where I came from.’ He put on a sad look, as if someone had stolen his childhood. ‘Ah well, just part of the pain and pleasure of the artist’s life.’ He was beginning to fictionalize his fictioneering