was entering deeper waters. “People don’t think about these things,” he said. “They’re usually very upset. But let’s not dwell on that. There but for the grace of God go I.”
Paul looked at him in astonishment. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s an expression that means it could happen to anybody. They don’t teach you people anything these days, do they?”
“I wouldn’t choose the District Line,” said Paul.
William opened one of the cases of wine and held a bottle up to the light. “Look at this lovely stuff. You do know that they gave this to the Queen when she visited Italy last, don’t you? They had a state banquet and served Her Majesty Brunello di Montalcino.”
Paul stared at the bottle. “They could hardly give her Lambrusco.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Paul,” said William. “Lambrusco has its place. Not the sort of stuff that we get in this country, but the real thing. They make it around Reggio Emilia and Parma. And I’ve tasted some very fine examples of it in the past. Out there it’s much drier.”
“It tastes like sherbet here,” said Paul.
“Perhaps. But that’s because it’s the sweet version. The locals drink it dry, and eat some fresh Parmesan cheese with it. It’s delicious.”
William replaced the bottle of Brunello in its case. At this point the telephone rang and Paul, being closer, answered. He smiled as he spoke, and William began to wonder whether it was to be one of those long personal calls that irritated him so much. But then Paul mumbled something and handed the receiver to his employer.
It was Marcia.
“I’m coming round at lunchtime,” she said, “with some very interesting news.”
“What is it?”
“You just wait.”
9. Marcia’s Idea
ALTHOUGH MARCIA had a habit of parking her van halfway over the pavement, she had never been given a parking ticket.
“The wardens are sweeties,” she once said to William. “Or at least the male wardens are—in my experience. If you talk to them reasonably, they understand that you don’t mean any harm. It’s the female ones who are the problem. They’re ruthless. Fortunately, I’ve never had any dealings with them, but my goodness, they’re a bunch of frumps. Amazons. And they take out all their sexual frustrations on drivers—all because they can’t get a man. Not one of them, I believe, has a man. Can you credit it?”
William had smiled. He was used to Marcia sounding off about all sorts of matters, and used to discounting most of what she said. She was full of prejudices, but in spite of that he found her entertaining. Nothing she said was really nasty; untrue, perhaps, and extreme, but not downright nasty.
That afternoon, she parked her car immediately in front of the wine shop, in a spot where the council might once have considered establishing a paid parking place but in the end decided not to. It was just right, Marcia thought; it was a car-shaped space that needed a car, or, as in this case, a modest-sized van, and she was doing no harm in leaving the van protruding just slightly over the pavement.
“There you are,” she said, as she walked into William’s office at the back of the shop. “Was that the coffee you were putting on?”
“No, not exactly. But I can if you wish.”
She lowered herself into the chair on the other side of William’s desk. “There’s a dear. Thank you. As I said on the phone—”
“You have some important news to impart to me.”
“Yes, I do.”
William busied himself with the coffee as Marcia began to talk. “Eddie,” she said.
William stiffened slightly. “Eddie?”
“Yes, Eddie.” She paused, and looked at him across the room. “You were telling me that you were keen to get Eddie into his own place.”
William unscrewed the top of the coffee canister and sniffed at the contents. Smells. He was very sensitive to smell, and coffee grounds were one of his olfactory favourites.
“Yes,” he said. “Eddie is twenty-four now and I have been thinking about helping him to move on. There was that place in Kentish Town …”
“You told me about that,” said Marcia. “The one that had no kitchen and a front door at a forty-five-degree angle.”
“Yes. Not the best of places. But he could have made something of it.”
“But didn’t.”
William sighed. “No. He didn’t.” He turned and met Marcia’s stare. “Look, Marcia, Eddie may have his little failings but he is my flesh and blood, you know …”
She held up a hand. “Of course he is. Of course. And as his father you love him dearly.