Excerpts from lost novels
4 March, 2008
It’s okay, you don’t have to speak so loudly. Sorry I tend
to raise my voice when I forget myself. Slightly chastened,
the man returned to his plate and picked at the pasta,
sliding it around, while the woman picked up the glass of
wine by her elbow and looked around the room, welcoming the
silence as an opportunity to inspect the other diners.
After a few moments, he looked up and gazed at her profile,
made beautiful by her elegance in the face of her advancing
age and her delicate make-up. Aware of his attention, she
stiffened the line of her jaw and flared her nostrils
slightly, remembering a photograph taken of her 30 years
before. She turned back to the man and smiled, placing the
glass gently by her side and taking up her fork. She
skewered a piece of fish, placed it deliberately,
seductively into her mouth and smiled before chewing.
Inside, he melted as he felt the years drop away and the
crush on his perfect French teacher flood back through his
electrified limbs.
Why shouldn’t I flirt okay I am married and twice his age
but I know enough to make him believe that there is
something left inside this weary soul that shines when the
lights flicker and the sun sets I am such a hopeless
romantic stupid girl he just wants to wheedle a bit of
gossip out me but I want to have some fun he is not bad
looking wonder what is underneath that badly ironed shirt
and the cheap trousers I can mould him in my hands he looks
so uncomfortable all of a sudden is that sweat on his brow
wonder if he is clean bet he isn’t although you can never
tell these days his hair reminds me of that writer who is
it why can’t I remember anyone’s name anymore never mind
that what is he smiling for maybe I can tease him for a bit
he is clearly trying to think of what to say…
What do you want to do with your life, she asked slowly,
deepening her voice and looking at him through her
eyelashes. I thought I was supposed to be interviewing you,
he said, laughing nervously. Perhaps, but all conversation
is a transaction, you know. You have to give me something
if you want something from me. He smiled and looked down.
How about lunch on the paper no that would sound ridiculous
and anyway I wouldn’t get to what the hell am I thinking
there is no way but then her dress what is it vintage could
be she couldn’t afford something so obviously expensive
when she hasn’t made a film in years and she lost all that
money after she got entangled with that what is that
perfume wish I didn’t know so much about these people
sometimes takes all the innocence and spontaneity out of it
all reminds me of someone something perhaps my racy aunt
that waiter is hovering again what does he want can’t he
see we need to be left alone wonder if the tape is going to
run out soon probably needs changing although she hasn’t
said much worth remembering at least in terms of the
article maybe the readers would want to know about her
flirting but then I wouldn’t get another interview with a
star for an age and I can just give people the general gist
it’s all made up anyway those stupid readers don’t really
think all those stars are as interesting as we make them
out to be she is looking at me again there is something so
how the hell would we do this I know there is a hotel
around the corner idiot don’t take the situation so
seriously she is just playing with you…
Why don’t we forget the interview, she said, picking up her
glass and draining the contents but fixing her gaze on his
eyes. I can think of many more things we could be doing in
more convivial surroundings… Her voice trailed away and the
man felt himself swallow nervously, like a cartoon dog. He
almost laughed at the absurdity of his desire, but instead
beckoned over the waiter.