The Bright Side (21 page)

“Do
you
know
how
many
cups
of
tea
my
mother
used
to
drink
in
a
day?”
Eddie
asked
once we
were
settled
.

I shook my
head. “Have
a guess,” he said. “I haven’t got a clue.
”

“If you had to guess, though.” “Twenty.
”

He
looked
crestfallen.
“Oh.
Yes.
That’s
right.
Twenty.” “Sorry,”
I
said.
“I
should
have
started
with
a
small
number
and
worked
my
way
up.
Kinda
ruined
your
story.
”

His face brightened. “It was hardly a story. Yeah. Twenty cups of tea a day. I mean, that’s an average. She didn’t keep count or anything. Still – twenty! She was never off the toilet.
”

I trekked back through my recent memories and wondered how my decision to wreck my husband’s car had led me to this, listening to a grown man telling me how often his mother urinated
.

“Understandable,”
I
said
and
hoped
the
subject
was
closed.
“My
father
was
a
different
kettle
of
fish,
now.
You
couldn’t have
got
a
cup
of
tea
down
that
man’s
neck
if
your
life
depended
on
it.
”

“A coffee drinker,” I sighed
.

“No. Ribena. Gallons of it. His teeth were always purple.
”

I groped around for a sensible response. Eventually I came up with: “Ribena’s nice.
”

“It’s all right,” Eddie allowed
.

“Are your parents still alive?” I asked
.

He
shook
his
head.
“No.
Dead
as
dodos,
the
pair
of
them. My
mother
died
ages
ago.
1983.
Dad
died
in
1999.
Which
was
a
pity,
because
he
was
really
looking
forward
to
the millennium.
”

“Was he religious?” “Sorry?
”

“The millennium. Lots of religious people thought Jesus was coming back.
”

“Oh. Right. Not my dad. He just liked fireworks. He really wanted to see the big display in town. His last words were ‘Fireworks’. Last word, really, I suppose.
”

I searched his face for clues that he was joking. There were none. Not only was he not joking, he didn’t seem to realise that there was anything funny about what he’d said
.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “I lost my parents too. Both at once. A car crash.
”

“That’s awful,” Eddie said. “Still – nice and
quick.” I shot
him a look, but he didn’t seem to notice. “That can’t have been any fun for you,” he said then
.

“No. It wasn’t. I don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.
”

“Sometimes it helps to t–” “
No
. I don’t want to, all right?
”

I’d lost my temper. That happened a lot when the subject of my parents came up. I was about to apologise but Eddie didn’t give me a chance
.

“Mine took forever to go,” he said. “You don’t want that, believe me. It’s exhausting. And, don’t get me wrong, very hard, emotionally and all. But mostly it’s exhausting.
”

He’d
taken
off
his
jacket
when
we
arrived.
I
had
found myself
looking
at
the
T-shirt
he
was
wearing
underneath
and
suddenly
realised
why:
it
was
the
first
time
I’d
seen
him without
his
navy-blue
woollen
tie
.

For the want of something better say, I mentioned it. “No tie today, Eddie?
”

He looked down at his T-shirt, which had presumably been black at one point and was now mid-grey, at best. “No tie?” he said, puzzled. “Sure it’s Saturday.
”

“I know. But you don’t have to wear a tie Monday to Friday. You still do. Every day.
”

“You don’t like my tie,” he said. It was a statement, not a question
.

“It’s not that,” I said, afraid that I’d hurt his feelings. “I’m just saying. Most men don’t like wearing a tie unless they absolutely have to.
”

Eddie rolled one of his shoulders. “It’s an office. I think you should make a bit of an effort when you work in an office.” He paused, but not for long. “Why don’t you like my tie?
”

“I
do
like it,” I insisted. “I just wondered …” “What?
”

“How come you wear the same one all the time?” He frowned. “You’ve really got it in for my tie …” “No, honestly. I’m sorry, forget I said anything.
”

For the next thirty seconds, he stirred his tea in silence, gazing down at it along the length of his nose. I got the impression he was preparing to say something significant and for one terrible moment was sure it was going to be something about a childhood sweetheart after all. In the end, he stopped stirring and said, “I like it, that’s all. It goes with everything.
”

“Of course it does,” I said, relieved. “It’s a
lovely
tie. I really wasn’t trying to –
”

“Ah, I know you weren’t, Jackie. I’m a bit sensitive sometimes. Don’t mind me. Anyway – the main thing is, you’ve stopped crying.
”

“Yeah. Thanks for … you know. Looking after me.
”

“No problem. I still can’t believe it. What he did. Your husband.
”

“Me neither.
”

“He
must
want
his
head
examined.
Fooling
around
on
you
.”
I
raised
my
cup
to
my
face
and
hid
behind
it
for
as
long
as
I
thought
plausible.
When
I
dared
to
look
out,
I
saw
that Eddie
was
gritting
his
teeth,
his
eyes
half-closed.
He
was
clearly
regretting
that
last
contribution.
The
best
way
forward,
I
decided,
was
to
change
the
subject
as
quickly
as possible
.

“What about you?” I said. “You never married?” “Me? No.
”

That apparently, was the end of that. But his previous comment was still hanging over us. I tried a second change of subject. “So – are you going to tell me what you were doing in the office on a Saturday?
”

His eyes flitted down towards his bag. He seemed to realise his mistake and immediately snapped his head around in the direction of the till
.

“What’s in the bag, Eddie?” I asked. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.
”

“Come
on.
I
told
you
my
thing.”
This
seemed
to
carry
a lot
of
weight
with
him.
While
he
wrestled
with
his
dilemma,
I
pressed
home
my
advantage.
“Whatever
it
is,
it
can’t
be
as big
a
deal
as
mine,
can
it?
”

His tongue emerged to moisten his lips. “It’s nothing,” he said again
.

“I’m intrigued now,” I told him. It was the truth. “Nothing,” Eddie repeated a third time
.

“Okay. If you don’t want to tell me …
”

He made a gentle smacking noise with his lips, as if he was beckoning a kitten. I stayed silent, guessing that he was now considering telling me his terrible secret but wouldn’t appreciate being pushed into it. Nothing was said for a minute or more. If I’d been with anyone else, I would have found the silence highly embarrassing. But with Eddie, somehow, it didn’t seem so bad. By the time he spoke again, I’d drifted back to my own business. His sudden reanimation made me jump
.

“If I show you and you laugh, you and I won’t be friends any more.
”

Up until that point, I hadn’t thought we
were
friends. But then again, for all I knew, neither had he
.

“I won’t laugh, Eddie. I promise I won’t.” I really meant that, but as soon as I said it, I was seized with fear. What if I couldn’t help myself? Who knew what he had in that bag? It might have been his collection of Action Men
.

“The monitor on my home computer is broken,” he muttered. It sounded like something a cold war spy might have said to establish contact on a bench in Prague
.

I had no idea how to respond –
Modern
appliances
are
often unreliable?

“Right.
”

“So I had to come in to work to get on the Internet.” “I see.
”

He frowned, sat back, sat forward again. “You
promise
you won’t laugh?
”

I drew an X on my chest with my finger. “Cross my heart, hope to die.
”

Even that didn’t seem to convince him. He bit his lip and gave it yet more thought. Then, just when I was about to tell him to forget it, he suddenly dived under the table and started rummaging through his bag. He reappeared with a sheaf of paper, which he deposited carefully on the table
.

“All right,” he said miserably. “Take a look before I change my mind.
”

As I picked up the papers, Eddie began to hum. He didn’t seem to be aware that he was doing it
.

“Are you sure?” I said. “Look, look. Go on.
”

I turned the pages towards me and read the headline
How to
Talk
to
Women
.

“It’s advice,” Eddie said quickly. “Nothing sleazy or anything.
”