How to Be Good

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Authors: Nick Hornby
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cream feels like. It feels creamy . . .’
    â€˜Der!’ says Tom. (For the benefit of those unfamiliar with apparently meaningless pre-teen monosyllables ‘Der!’ is completely different from ‘Doh!’ As I understand it, the latter is an admission of stupidity on the part of the speaker, whereas the former implies strongly that someone else is stupid. The former, incidentally, is accompanied by a rather unattractive face – screwed-up eyes, protruding teeth – intended to illustrate said stupidity.) Molly ignores him. ‘. . . And his hands didn’t feel creamy at all.’
    Something weird is going on here, because David won’t let this drop; it is clear that this conversation will continue until Molly has denied the evidence of her own senses.
    â€˜That is complete nonsense, Molly. Read my lips: He . . . Was . . . Using . . . Cream.’
    â€˜Does it matter?’ I ask him mildly.
    â€˜Of course it matters!’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜She’s fibbing. And we don’t like fibbing, do we, Molly?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ says Tom, unpleasantly. ‘Fibber! Liar!’
    Molly bursts into tears, shouts ‘It’s not fair! I hate you all!’ and runs up to her bedroom; and thus the first GoodNews we have had in weeks is deftly turned into yet another source of upset and difficulty.
    â€˜Well done, David. Again.’
    â€˜She shouldn’t tell fibs, should she, Dad?’
    â€˜He was using cream,’ says David, to no one in particular. ‘I saw him.’
    Â 
    David apologizes to Molly (not, I have to say, because he wants to, but because I suggest that it would be the mature and fatherly thing to do), and Tom apologizes to Molly, and Molly apologizes to us, and we settle down again. And this, at the moment, is what constitutes peace in our time: the two hours between the argument about the quack doctor and his creams and the discussion about my affair with another man and whether it constitutes the end of my marriage.
    â€˜Shall we talk now?’ I say to David when the kids are in bed.
    â€˜What about?’
    â€˜About what I told you at lunchtime.’
    â€˜What do you want to say about it?’
    â€˜I’d have thought you’d want to say something.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You just want to leave it at that?’
    â€˜I don’t want to leave it at anything. I’m just presuming that you’ll be moving out in the next couple of days.’ There’s something different about David, but I’m not sure what. I was certain thathe’d do his David thing, which would involve a lot of ranting, some raving, several million caustic remarks and an awful lot of contempt directed towards Stephen. But there’s nothing like that; it’s almost as if he doesn’t care any more.
    â€˜The affair’s over. As of this second.’
    â€˜I don’t know about that. But I do know that no one asks Elvis Presley to play for nothing.’
    I feel sick and panicky, and now I don’t understand his words or his tone.
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    â€˜It’s what Colonel Tom Parker told the White House.’
    â€˜Please talk to me properly.’
    â€˜Nixon’s people phoned up Colonel Tom Parker and asked him to play for the President at the White House. And Parker said, you know, “Fine, but how much will we be getting?” And Nixon’s aide said, “Colonel Parker, nobody asks for money for a private performance for the President”, and Parker said, “I don’t know about that, but no one asks Elvis Presley to play for nothing.” ’
    â€˜I don’t understand! Please stop this! It’s important!’
    â€˜I know. It’s just . . . you know, I was reminded of that story, so I thought I’d pass it on. It’s my way of saying that what you do or what you want doesn’t really

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