Read Online As Far as You Can Go by Julian Mitchell - Free Book Online Page B

be pretty active. Though it was hard to imagine.
    “About what?” said Helen.
    “Sex,” they all three said together.
    “Oh.” She looked crossly at Harold, and said, “I told you to have only a short one, and now you’re not ready. What a waste.”
    “It’s not a waste at all,” said Harold, swallowing half a tumbler. He sat down, trying not to let his eyes water.
    “What film is it tonight?” asked Helen, starting on the soup as though she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which she probably hadn’t.
    “It’s one of these new English ones,” said David. “The social realist sort. Lots of smoky roof-tops and trains passing and jazz clubs and things.”
    “I’ve seen it, then,” said Harold. “You must mean Look Back in Anger or Room at the Top .”
    “No, but the same school. It’s called Frankenstein and the Class System .”David laughed immoderately at his own joke.
    “Actually,” said Brenda, “it’s the new Marlon Brando.”
    “Oh, God,” said Harold. “Mumble, mumble, mumble, look at me in my dirty T-shirt. I don’t think I can stand that.”
    “He’s marvellous,” said Brenda. “Don’t you like him, really?”
    “He’s all right, I suppose. But why do we have to go to the cinema at all? Why can’t we stay here and do the washing-up and go to bed early?”
    “Good heavens,” said Brenda, “we’ve got to have some fun some time, haven’t we?”
    “We could have that by going early to bed. Let’s have an orgy, the four of us. I’ve never had an orgy, have you?”
    “Harold,” said Helen, “would you pass your plate, if you’ve finished? If not, please hurry up, as the pilaff will be getting cold.”
    “An orgy sounds rather marvellous,” said Brenda. “Don’t you start with a huge banquet, and go out and tickle your throat and then come back for more?”
    The two men looked at each other in mock despair.
    “It’s not your throat you tickle,” said Harold.
    “Harold, don’t be disgusting,” said Helen.
    “I haven’t told you about the fire I had this morning yet, have I?”
    Harold told them about the fire, tidying up a few details, and leaving out Mr Douglas altogether.
    “That girl putting you through to Ambulance,” said Brenda, “that must have driven you nearly mad.”
    “It was pretty irritating, but I kept my head.”
    Helen looked at him with wide eyes. “Gosh,” she said.
    “It was the wiring, of course. It’s very bad indeed in some of these old houses, you know, an absolute menace.”
    “I think it’s rather funny, it being the fridge,” said Brenda.
    They had eaten well, and in spite of Harold’s dislike of cheap wine—he much preferred to drink whisky or gin thanSouth African Burgundy—he was feeling quite flushed after two bottles and his heroism during the fire.
    “Oh, leave the washing-up,” said Brenda. “I’ll do that when we get back.”
    That was nice of her, Harold thought, making it clear like that that she would do it, leaving Helen and him to their private vices. She wasn’t as good-looking as Helen, but she certainly seemed less old-fashioned. But then she had David, who might be all right between the sheets, but he was really very dreary when fully clothed and in public rooms, as it were.
    After the film they said good-bye to David and went back to the flat. Helen insisted on doing the washing-up with Brenda, which annoyed Harold so much that he didn’t even offer to help, but went and read the newspaper David had left behind. When Helen at last stopped fiddling around in the kitchen, and came into Brenda’s room where Harold was sitting, she said, “You might have helped put things away.”
    “There’s only room for two in there.”
    “You could have offered.”
    “Let’s go to bed.”
    “All right. Good night, Brenda.”
    “Good night, you lucky pair. Sleep tight.”
    I wish I was tight, thought Harold, as they got into bed. But he hadn’t seen Helen for several days, and desire got the better of