live for years, Lampo.’
‘I don’t think so. He’s failing. I will be very careful, Henry, I promise. He doesn’t suspect a thing, and he never will. My opportunities are therefore very limited. Hence the night of your sixtieth, when my friend happened to be on the eve of departing for Kuala Lumpur, and I knew Denzil would be having a happy time and wouldn’t check up. Ah!’
Denzil entered with the pudding.
‘Something I’ve never made in my life,’ he said. ‘Not my usual style at all. Spotted dick.’ Hilary looked across the table at Henry. The steamy smell of it transported them back to Cousin Hilda’s.
Cousin Hilda sniffed loudly. But was it her, or was it just her sniff? Can a sniff sniff loudly?
Henry shivered. He knew what the sniff meant. It meant, ‘Eat it up, there’s a good boy. There are people starving in India who’d be glad of some spotted dick.’
Many things happened in the great world outside the Café Henry. President Clinton announced that the United States would re-establish full diplomatic relations with Vietnam; two of Saddam Hussein’s sons-in-law were given political asylum in Jordan after fleeing Iraq with their wives; and on the fiftieth anniversary of Japan’s surrender Prime Minister Tomiche Murayama apologised for the nation’s aggression in World War Two.
In the tiny world of the Café Henry, however, nothing much changed. Food was cooked and served, customers came and went, but this no longer seemed quite enough for Henry. Had he already been corrupted by his very first touch of celebrity? Did
A Question of Salt
seem more real to him than the Café Henry? Had the insidious power of television infected his blood?
Every day he hoped that Nicky would ring and offer him another appearance. Every day he hoped that customers would enter the Café and tell him that they had come because of his irresistible performance in the recording.
And then at last the phone call did come.
‘It’s Nicky, Henry.’
His heart began to pump furiously. This was ridiculous.
‘Well, hello. How are you?’
‘
Very
well. How are you?’
‘Very very well.’ Why did he have to compete and be even more well than her? ‘Very busy. Very, very busy.’
He hoped that she could hear the buzz of conversation, the satisfied murmuring of a happy, well-fed crowd, so different from the day of her visit.
‘Good. Listen, can you come on the show next Tuesday?’
Yes, yes, yes, cried his heart. So why did he hear his voice saying, ‘That’s short notice.’
‘We’ve been let down. I immediately thought of you.’
‘I see. Well I don’t know that I’m thrilled to be second choice, Nicky.’
‘Oh God, Henry, you aren’t taking offence, are you? I didn’t think you were like that.’
He sighed. He knew he was being petty.
‘No, I’m not,’ he said. ‘Not really.’
‘You’re my discovery,’ said Nicky. ‘I didn’t want to push for you too hard too soon. I … I have a bit of a problem with the producer.’
‘You refuse to go to bed with him.’
‘How on earth did you guess that? You are clever.’
‘I don’t think it took much brain power, frankly. Most men would want to go to bed with you.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice sounded warm for a moment, then she became brisk and businesslike. ‘Anyway, if you come on as a favour, and do well, we’ll be halfway to establishing you as a regular.’
He didn’t reply. Now that the proposition was actually presented to him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it. He looked round his little domain, and liked what he saw – the happiness of it, the even tenor of it.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m still here, Nicky.’
‘Wouldn’t you want to be a regular?’
Would I? Would I? How can I say that I would positively not want to rise to the challenge? Have I a choice?
‘Of course I would.’
He hadn’t a choice.
The second recording went well. Henry was relieved not to cross swords with Bradley Tompkins
‘I don’t think so. He’s failing. I will be very careful, Henry, I promise. He doesn’t suspect a thing, and he never will. My opportunities are therefore very limited. Hence the night of your sixtieth, when my friend happened to be on the eve of departing for Kuala Lumpur, and I knew Denzil would be having a happy time and wouldn’t check up. Ah!’
Denzil entered with the pudding.
‘Something I’ve never made in my life,’ he said. ‘Not my usual style at all. Spotted dick.’ Hilary looked across the table at Henry. The steamy smell of it transported them back to Cousin Hilda’s.
Cousin Hilda sniffed loudly. But was it her, or was it just her sniff? Can a sniff sniff loudly?
Henry shivered. He knew what the sniff meant. It meant, ‘Eat it up, there’s a good boy. There are people starving in India who’d be glad of some spotted dick.’
Many things happened in the great world outside the Café Henry. President Clinton announced that the United States would re-establish full diplomatic relations with Vietnam; two of Saddam Hussein’s sons-in-law were given political asylum in Jordan after fleeing Iraq with their wives; and on the fiftieth anniversary of Japan’s surrender Prime Minister Tomiche Murayama apologised for the nation’s aggression in World War Two.
In the tiny world of the Café Henry, however, nothing much changed. Food was cooked and served, customers came and went, but this no longer seemed quite enough for Henry. Had he already been corrupted by his very first touch of celebrity? Did
A Question of Salt
seem more real to him than the Café Henry? Had the insidious power of television infected his blood?
Every day he hoped that Nicky would ring and offer him another appearance. Every day he hoped that customers would enter the Café and tell him that they had come because of his irresistible performance in the recording.
And then at last the phone call did come.
‘It’s Nicky, Henry.’
His heart began to pump furiously. This was ridiculous.
‘Well, hello. How are you?’
‘
Very
well. How are you?’
‘Very very well.’ Why did he have to compete and be even more well than her? ‘Very busy. Very, very busy.’
He hoped that she could hear the buzz of conversation, the satisfied murmuring of a happy, well-fed crowd, so different from the day of her visit.
‘Good. Listen, can you come on the show next Tuesday?’
Yes, yes, yes, cried his heart. So why did he hear his voice saying, ‘That’s short notice.’
‘We’ve been let down. I immediately thought of you.’
‘I see. Well I don’t know that I’m thrilled to be second choice, Nicky.’
‘Oh God, Henry, you aren’t taking offence, are you? I didn’t think you were like that.’
He sighed. He knew he was being petty.
‘No, I’m not,’ he said. ‘Not really.’
‘You’re my discovery,’ said Nicky. ‘I didn’t want to push for you too hard too soon. I … I have a bit of a problem with the producer.’
‘You refuse to go to bed with him.’
‘How on earth did you guess that? You are clever.’
‘I don’t think it took much brain power, frankly. Most men would want to go to bed with you.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice sounded warm for a moment, then she became brisk and businesslike. ‘Anyway, if you come on as a favour, and do well, we’ll be halfway to establishing you as a regular.’
He didn’t reply. Now that the proposition was actually presented to him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it. He looked round his little domain, and liked what he saw – the happiness of it, the even tenor of it.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m still here, Nicky.’
‘Wouldn’t you want to be a regular?’
Would I? Would I? How can I say that I would positively not want to rise to the challenge? Have I a choice?
‘Of course I would.’
He hadn’t a choice.
The second recording went well. Henry was relieved not to cross swords with Bradley Tompkins
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