us to marry Catholics, do you?” Alison wrinkled her nose at Lucy and stuck out her tongue.
“I would be sad to see my grandchildren grow up in a different culture to mine, that’s what I said.”
“You’re making Martin sound like a Martian…” Lucy was indignant.
“Only takes an A!”
“….but he’s not different from us really. And he almost never goes to church.”
“Oh dear.”
“Does his mother?”
“Yes, Mum, I think so.”
“Oh good.”
“It’ll come out when the chips are down, then. He’ll want his children Catholic.”
Robert Browne folded his paper and put it down. He looked round at them all, sitting on the edges of their seats and settled himself more comfortably, as though to prove that he was in control.
“I think we should all stop worrying. There isn’t going to be a problem, because Lucy isn’t going to marry him, are you love? Not because he’s Catholic, or a salesman, or a southsider, but because when the rose coloured glasses wear off, she’s going to realise he’s as boring as hell and her busy mind would freeze over in a nanosecond if she did. So I don’t think we need to discuss it. He didn’t ask you to marry him, did he, Lucy?”
“No. But Dad, he isn’t boring, not to me. He’s lovely. Funny, and witty, and charming.”
“He flatters you, you mean,” said Alison. “I’m awfully glad I learnt the knack of finding my own boyfriends and I’m not dependant on you anymore, if that’s the new type you’re going for. Philip was far nicer.”
“Philip was lovely. But you stole him and now, just ‘cos you don’t want Martin, you don’t want me to have him either. You’re all just jealous!” Lucy burst into tears and ran from the room. Robert put out his arm, to stop Betty or Alison from following.
“Leave her alone. It’ll blow over.”
“He’s probably right,” said Diljas, Robert’s guide, to Trynor, who was heading off after Lucy. “Let her stay with Martin a bit longer, till she gets used to her job and has the energy to look round again. Then you and Jotin can pull out all the stops. But you’re acquainted with Roki, it should be easier to work with him on moving Martin on. Could be harder to get her away from a brand new boyfriend just as you’re ready to roll. The humans have a saying, ‘better the devil you know’.”
“The devil you know certainly suits Roki when he’s being difficult! I suppose you’re probably right. We’ll wait and watch. She is really busy studying up on her patients, worrying about them. I think she finds Martin soothing just now. It’s good that she’s learnt some science, but I’m still wondering why she decided to become a physiotherapist, when she has all that experience as a craftsman. Still work with her hands, but not creative. I didn’t encourage it, I’m not sure it’ll make her happy.”
“She can do the creative stuff as a hobby. They have more leisure time nowadays, can try all sorts of things. Look at Robert, he’d have marquetry all over everything if he was let. But just paperwork at the office.”
“I’ll go up and get her to sleep. Thanks, Diljas.”
Chapter 39.
Kathleen flung a magazine onto the table in front of David.
“Explain this!”
A worn copy of Penthouse stared up at him, accusingly and apologetically.
“It’s a copy of Penthouse.”
“Yes, I know that, you bastard. What is it doing in your drawer? You filthy bastard, looking at all these, these, whores! And you a married man. Meant to be respectable. And I’m meant to be respectable too. How does this make me look? A wife with a husband who looks at filthy pictures. As though you didn’t have a woman of your own.!”
“I don’t.” David’s voice was almost inaudible.
“What?”
“I don’t have a woman of my own. That’s why I have that magazine.”
“Fuck you! You have me.”
“Do you know how often you let me come near you? Have you counted?”
“Don’t be disgusting!”
“Well, I have. Twice, this year. And it’s October. That’s once every five months. Not enough.”
“It is for me.”
“Good for you. But not for me. Which is why I own a copy, one single copy, of Penthouse. To help me forget that I have some needs. To release some of the tension of being rejected all the time.”
“You mean you’re- ugh! I thought you were just looking at the pictures, but you say you’re, oh god, I can’t even say it, you’re…”
“Wanking.”
“What? Is that what you call it? That’s revolting! How did you expect