Read Online A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters by Julian Barnes - Free Book Online

the French, the Italians, two Spaniards and the Canadians. Nearest the door were the Japanese, the Swedes and Franklin, the solitary Irishman. One of the last couples to be brought in were the Zimmermanns, a pair of stout, well-dressed Americans. Hughes had at first placed the husband in the garment business, some master cutter who had set up on his own; but a conversation on Paros had revealed him to be a recently retired professor of philosophy from the Midwest. As the couple passed Franklin’s table on their way to the American quarter, Zimmermann muttered lightly, ‘Separating the clean from the unclean.’
    When they were all present, Franklin was taken off to the purser’s office, where the leader was installed. He found himselfwondering if the slightly bulbous nose and the moustache were by any chance attached to the glasses; perhaps they all came off together.
    ‘Ah, Mr Hughes. You seem to be their spokesman. At any event, now your position is official. You will explain to them the following. We are doing our best to make them comfortable, but they must realize that there are certain difficulties. They will be allowed to talk to one another for five minutes at each hour. At the same time those who wish to go to the toilet will be allowed to do so. One person at a time. I can see that they are all sensible people and would not like them to decide not to be sensible. There is one man who says he cannot find his passport. He says he is called Talbot.’
    ‘Mr Talbot, yes.’ A vague, elderly Englishman who tended to ask questions about religion in the Ancient World. A mild fellow with no theories of his own, thank God.
    ‘He is to sit with the Americans.’
    ‘But he’s British. He comes from Kidderminster.’
    ‘If he remembers where his passport is and he is British he can sit with the British.’
    ‘You can tell he’s British. I can vouch for him being British.’ The Arab looked unimpressed. ‘He doesn’t talk like an American, does he?’
    ‘I have not talked to him. Still, talking is not proof, is it? You, I think, talk like a British but your passport says you are not a British.’ Franklin nodded slowly. ‘So we will wait for the passport.’
    ‘Why are you separating us like this?’
    ‘We think you will like to sit with one another.’ The Arab made a sign for him to go.
    ‘There’s one other thing. My wife. Can she sit with me?’
    ‘Your wife?’ The man looked at a list of passengers in front of him. ‘You have no wife.’
    ‘Yes I do. She’s travelling as Tricia Maitland. It’s her maiden name. We were married three weeks ago.’ Franklin paused, then added in a confessional tone, ‘My third wife, actually.’
    But the Arab seemed unimpressed by Franklin’s harem. ‘Youwere married three weeks ago? And yet it seems you do not share the same cabin. Are things going so badly?’
    ‘No, I have a separate cabin for my work, you see. The lecturing. It’s a luxury, having another cabin, a privilege.’
    ‘She is your wife?’ The tone gave nothing away.
    ‘Yes she is,’ he replied, mildly indignant.
    ‘But she has a British passport.’
    ‘She’s Irish. You become Irish if you marry an Irishman. It’s Irish law.’
    ‘Mr Hughes, she has a British passport.’ He shrugged as if the dilemma were insoluble, then found a solution. ‘But if you wish to sit with your wife, then you may go and sit with her at the British table.’
    Franklin smiled awkwardly. ‘If I’m the passengers’ spokesman, how do I get to see you to pass on the passengers’ demands?’
    ‘The passengers’ demands? No, you have not understood. The passengers do not have demands. You do not see me unless I want to see you.’
    After Franklin had relayed the new orders, he sat at his table by himself and thought about the position. The good part was that so far they had been treated with reasonable civility; no-one had yet been beaten up or shot, and their captors didn’t seem to be the hysterical butchers