Read Online Fatty O'Leary's Dinner Party by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alexander McCall Smith
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his right hip, and then, to theaccompaniment of a great sucking sound, like that made by a mud pool venting, he felt himself tumbling from the bath and onto the hard cobbles. He uttered a yell of pain and this brought an anxious enquiry from Rupert OâBrien.
âHas it worked? Are you out?â
Fatty, crouching beneath the bath, doubled up most uncomfortably, struggled to retrieve the towel, which had fallen from his waist when the bath had been turned over.
âIâm out now,â he shouted. âPlease turn the bath over again.â
Fatty heard Rupert OâBrien breathing heavily as he exerted himself to roll the bathtub over onto its side, but eventually he succeeded, exposing Fatty, like an insect discovered under a rock, blinking and confused.
âYou see,â said Rupert OâBrien. âThe late Mr. Newton has been vindicated once again.â
Fatty arose painfully to his feet, muttered his thanks, and holding the inadequate towel round his waist, picked his way, barefoot over the rough cobbles, back into the building.
âWhat a scream!â said Rupert OâBrien to Niamh, when she reappeared in the courtyard. âHave you ever seen anything so perfectly comic? French farce, my dear. Utter French farce, and all laid on for us absolutely free!Itâs
Les Fourberies de Scapin
and
Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme
all rolled into one! Priceless!â
8
A FTER WATCHING HER HUSBAND BEING carried out of the room in the bath, uncertain as to whether she should accompany him (as a widow might accompany a cortège) but deciding not to do so, Betty returned to her bed. She felt profoundly discouraged by the morningâs events and wondered whether the idea of coming to Ireland had been a mistake. Her visions of quiet days spent enjoying the delights of the Irish countryside and the Irish table seemed to have been a hopelessly romantic misconception. The reality of Ireland was proving quite different; gravity, so cruel and unforgiving at home in Arkansas, seemed every bit as unremitting here, where it had subjected her husband to tribulations as onerous as any that had beset him on the other, correct side of the Atlantic. What was the point, she wondered, of travelling such distances only to find that the world revealed an identically unkind face? Perhaps it would have been better to remain in America, where at least the odds seemed less stacked against generously built people.
She decided that when Fatty returned she would ask him whether he wanted to persist with the holiday. It would involve no loss of face, she would tell him, to change theirreservations and fly home that very evening. Nobody at home need know that they had returned prematurely, as they could quietly slip off for a few days somewhere and nobody would be any the wiser.
By the time that the freshly released Fatty returned to the bedroom, Betty had dozed off, her head full of reassuring thoughts of home. She opened her eyes with a start to find Fatty, clad in his towel, searching the room for his clothes.
âIâm back,â he declared simply.
She rose from her bed and embraced him.
âIt must have been so uncomfortable,â said Betty, pushing a stray lock of hair off Fattyâs brow. âIâve been thinking that perhaps we should go home â¦Â Ireland seems to be so â¦â She searched for the expression. What precisely was wrong with Ireland? The food? Well, she was in no position to pass judgement on that, as they had not had the opportunity to sample any Irish dishes yet. Since they had arrived at Shannon, they had, in fact, had no more than a little soup and a few pieces of bread at dinner. She had certainly
seen
some food that morning, when she had observed Rupert OâBrien eating kedgeree with such obvious enjoyment, but that alone gave her no grounds to pronounce on the national cuisine.
Was it general discomfort then? Again, this was a charge for which she had no
âHas it worked? Are you out?â
Fatty, crouching beneath the bath, doubled up most uncomfortably, struggled to retrieve the towel, which had fallen from his waist when the bath had been turned over.
âIâm out now,â he shouted. âPlease turn the bath over again.â
Fatty heard Rupert OâBrien breathing heavily as he exerted himself to roll the bathtub over onto its side, but eventually he succeeded, exposing Fatty, like an insect discovered under a rock, blinking and confused.
âYou see,â said Rupert OâBrien. âThe late Mr. Newton has been vindicated once again.â
Fatty arose painfully to his feet, muttered his thanks, and holding the inadequate towel round his waist, picked his way, barefoot over the rough cobbles, back into the building.
âWhat a scream!â said Rupert OâBrien to Niamh, when she reappeared in the courtyard. âHave you ever seen anything so perfectly comic? French farce, my dear. Utter French farce, and all laid on for us absolutely free!Itâs
Les Fourberies de Scapin
and
Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme
all rolled into one! Priceless!â
8
A FTER WATCHING HER HUSBAND BEING carried out of the room in the bath, uncertain as to whether she should accompany him (as a widow might accompany a cortège) but deciding not to do so, Betty returned to her bed. She felt profoundly discouraged by the morningâs events and wondered whether the idea of coming to Ireland had been a mistake. Her visions of quiet days spent enjoying the delights of the Irish countryside and the Irish table seemed to have been a hopelessly romantic misconception. The reality of Ireland was proving quite different; gravity, so cruel and unforgiving at home in Arkansas, seemed every bit as unremitting here, where it had subjected her husband to tribulations as onerous as any that had beset him on the other, correct side of the Atlantic. What was the point, she wondered, of travelling such distances only to find that the world revealed an identically unkind face? Perhaps it would have been better to remain in America, where at least the odds seemed less stacked against generously built people.
She decided that when Fatty returned she would ask him whether he wanted to persist with the holiday. It would involve no loss of face, she would tell him, to change theirreservations and fly home that very evening. Nobody at home need know that they had returned prematurely, as they could quietly slip off for a few days somewhere and nobody would be any the wiser.
By the time that the freshly released Fatty returned to the bedroom, Betty had dozed off, her head full of reassuring thoughts of home. She opened her eyes with a start to find Fatty, clad in his towel, searching the room for his clothes.
âIâm back,â he declared simply.
She rose from her bed and embraced him.
âIt must have been so uncomfortable,â said Betty, pushing a stray lock of hair off Fattyâs brow. âIâve been thinking that perhaps we should go home â¦Â Ireland seems to be so â¦â She searched for the expression. What precisely was wrong with Ireland? The food? Well, she was in no position to pass judgement on that, as they had not had the opportunity to sample any Irish dishes yet. Since they had arrived at Shannon, they had, in fact, had no more than a little soup and a few pieces of bread at dinner. She had certainly
seen
some food that morning, when she had observed Rupert OâBrien eating kedgeree with such obvious enjoyment, but that alone gave her no grounds to pronounce on the national cuisine.
Was it general discomfort then? Again, this was a charge for which she had no
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