research. You think I don’t look like a doctor?’
‘You look distinctly alternative to me if you’ll pardon the liberty,’ Ali said. ‘Frankly, you look like a person who buys prayer postcards ten pence off in the Whole Earth Bookshop.’ Arnie laughed again, but Noah, for whom flippant conversation, like eccentric dress, had its proper times and places, merely glanced down gravely at her seat-belt fitting.
‘Fasten the seat belt, Mrs Bobrow. Like so,’ he said after watching her wrestle with the clasp. Click.
Suddenly a police car was drawn up beside them, forcing Noah to pull in. There were two policemen in the front and, in the back, black hair parted dead centre, moustached and red with fury, was the driver of the fast car which had almost collided with Ali.
‘That’s the one!’ he yelled, as plummy British as they come in his period piece, Battle of Britain voice. ‘The one in the back with long hair like a girl.’
‘I
am
a girl,’ Arnie said to Ali’s immediate delight and to Noah’s dismay. Arnie leaned on the window ledge. ‘What’s going on around here?’ He damned himself instantly, not only with his general lack of deference but with the combination of his transatlantic accent and his studenty dress.
‘Oh Christ,’ Noah said gloomily, under his breath.
‘Arrest him officer!’ yelled the fast-car man. ‘Go on! Do your duty as a servant of the Crown. By God I’ll see that the law has your balls, you damned Yankee trouble-maker. I’m warning you, I have the power to do it.’ He fumed at some considerable length about his uncle the judge and his brother in the Black Watch.
‘Jesus, Noah, is this guy for real?’ Arnie said incredulously, employing a regrettably audible aside. He had been in the country for only four weeks and could not believe his unattuned ears.
‘Bloody vandal!’ blustered the fast-car man. One of the policemen got out and ordered Arnie rather abruptly to do the same.
‘Pardon me, officer,’ Noah said, intervening with calculated sobriety, ‘but I have a woman here suffering from shock. Your passenger almost knocked her down as a matter of fact. May we get under way, please?’
‘Is this your vehicle, sir?’ said the policeman. Noah sighed.
‘Sure it’s my vehicle,’ he said.
‘Licence, sir?’ said the policeman. Ali began to twitch inwardly in consideration of the time and to steal glances at Noah’s watch as he reached into the glove pocket for his licence. Camilla needed her games togs by three-thirty did she not? She needed them though the heavens fell. Yet here was a pair of gallant strangers being impounded as they rose in her defence. Noah’s watch, being annoyingly digital, was difficult to read upside down, but his licence – international and valid for one year – was mercifully without fault. The policeman after some scrutiny returned it with an approving nod.
‘We shall need a statement from your friend, sir, that’s all,’ hesaid. ‘Never to worry. We’ll have him down the station for you if you’d like to call by later.’ Noah looked from Ali to Arnie, weighing their respective needs with care.
‘I’ll call by the police station in a half-hour,’ he said to Arnie. Ali watched with growing awkwardness as Arnie stepped undaunted into the police car alongside his expostulating accuser.
‘Whatever are we going to do?’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ Noah said. ‘I guess nobody ever got into real trouble for kicking a car in sneakers. Not that I heard of.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ Ali said. ‘It’s dreadful. I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Mrs Bobrow,’ Noah said abruptly. ‘Who was it kicked the car? Just tell me now where we are heading. Your daughter’s school, right?’
‘Oh yes,’ Ali said, uneasily, who hated to give traffic directions for the reason that left and right had never become second nature to her. To know right from left required a quick translation from treble clef through to
‘You look distinctly alternative to me if you’ll pardon the liberty,’ Ali said. ‘Frankly, you look like a person who buys prayer postcards ten pence off in the Whole Earth Bookshop.’ Arnie laughed again, but Noah, for whom flippant conversation, like eccentric dress, had its proper times and places, merely glanced down gravely at her seat-belt fitting.
‘Fasten the seat belt, Mrs Bobrow. Like so,’ he said after watching her wrestle with the clasp. Click.
Suddenly a police car was drawn up beside them, forcing Noah to pull in. There were two policemen in the front and, in the back, black hair parted dead centre, moustached and red with fury, was the driver of the fast car which had almost collided with Ali.
‘That’s the one!’ he yelled, as plummy British as they come in his period piece, Battle of Britain voice. ‘The one in the back with long hair like a girl.’
‘I
am
a girl,’ Arnie said to Ali’s immediate delight and to Noah’s dismay. Arnie leaned on the window ledge. ‘What’s going on around here?’ He damned himself instantly, not only with his general lack of deference but with the combination of his transatlantic accent and his studenty dress.
‘Oh Christ,’ Noah said gloomily, under his breath.
‘Arrest him officer!’ yelled the fast-car man. ‘Go on! Do your duty as a servant of the Crown. By God I’ll see that the law has your balls, you damned Yankee trouble-maker. I’m warning you, I have the power to do it.’ He fumed at some considerable length about his uncle the judge and his brother in the Black Watch.
‘Jesus, Noah, is this guy for real?’ Arnie said incredulously, employing a regrettably audible aside. He had been in the country for only four weeks and could not believe his unattuned ears.
‘Bloody vandal!’ blustered the fast-car man. One of the policemen got out and ordered Arnie rather abruptly to do the same.
‘Pardon me, officer,’ Noah said, intervening with calculated sobriety, ‘but I have a woman here suffering from shock. Your passenger almost knocked her down as a matter of fact. May we get under way, please?’
‘Is this your vehicle, sir?’ said the policeman. Noah sighed.
‘Sure it’s my vehicle,’ he said.
‘Licence, sir?’ said the policeman. Ali began to twitch inwardly in consideration of the time and to steal glances at Noah’s watch as he reached into the glove pocket for his licence. Camilla needed her games togs by three-thirty did she not? She needed them though the heavens fell. Yet here was a pair of gallant strangers being impounded as they rose in her defence. Noah’s watch, being annoyingly digital, was difficult to read upside down, but his licence – international and valid for one year – was mercifully without fault. The policeman after some scrutiny returned it with an approving nod.
‘We shall need a statement from your friend, sir, that’s all,’ hesaid. ‘Never to worry. We’ll have him down the station for you if you’d like to call by later.’ Noah looked from Ali to Arnie, weighing their respective needs with care.
‘I’ll call by the police station in a half-hour,’ he said to Arnie. Ali watched with growing awkwardness as Arnie stepped undaunted into the police car alongside his expostulating accuser.
‘Whatever are we going to do?’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ Noah said. ‘I guess nobody ever got into real trouble for kicking a car in sneakers. Not that I heard of.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ Ali said. ‘It’s dreadful. I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Mrs Bobrow,’ Noah said abruptly. ‘Who was it kicked the car? Just tell me now where we are heading. Your daughter’s school, right?’
‘Oh yes,’ Ali said, uneasily, who hated to give traffic directions for the reason that left and right had never become second nature to her. To know right from left required a quick translation from treble clef through to
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