Read Online The collected stories by Paul Theroux - Free Book Online
Authors: Paul Theroux
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you?' she said. She was clearly delighted.
'Your reportage is devastating.'
It was as easy as twisting a tap. I said nothing more. I simply listened to her talk, and finally she said, 'I've so enjoyed our little chat. See you Monday.'
Ronald was silent on the way home until we got to Kennington or The Oval. Then he said, 'Are you a writer?'
At Stockwell, I said, 'Are you a publisher?'
As the train drew into Clapham Common, he stood up and said, 'You're shameless.' He pushed past me and ran up the escalator.
That night Ronald slept on the chaise and the next day he moved out of the flat and out of my life.
I had not known how easy it would be to make the acquaintance of Sir Charles Moonman and Miss Byward. It had only been necessary to learn a new language, and it was one that Ronald either despised or did not know. When I went broody about Ronald's absence over the weekend I remembered the guests I'd invited for Monday and I cheered up.
But on Sunday I began to worry about the numbers. Three people did not seem much of a dinner party and I kept hearing myself saying, 'I like the intimate sort of party.' So I invited Mr Momma, too. Mr Momma, a Cypriot, was a house painter who lived in the top-floor flat. He never washed his milk bottles, so Ronald had named him 'Inky,' which was short for 'inconsiderate.' Mr Momma said he would do a salad.
On Monday I went to the library and got copies of Sir Charles's and Miss Byward's books. I was setting them out, arranging them on tables, when the phone rang. I must have been feeling a bit insecure
world's end
still because I thought at once that it was either Sir Charles or Miss Byward who had rung to say they couldn't make it after all.
'Michael?'
It was Tanya Moult, one of Ronald's authors. I should say one of Ronald's victims, because he had strung her along for years. She was working on a book about pirates, women pirates, and Ronald had said it was just the ticket, a kind of robust woman's thing. That was very Ronald. He had other people doing books on cowboys -black cowboys; hair-dressers and cooks - all men; gay heroes, and cats in history. Tanya sent him chapters and at the same time she scraped a living writing stories for women's magazines under a pseudonym. Ronald was very possessive about Tanya, but perversely so: he kept me away from her while at the same time being nasty to her.
I told her that Ronald had moved out. It was the first she had heard of it and I could tell that she was really down. Ronald had not been in touch with her about her newest chapter.
'Look, Tanya,' I said - it was the first time I had used her Christian name. 'Why don't you come round tonight? I'm having a few friends over for dinner.'
She hesitated. I knew what she was thinking - I couldn't blame her.
'Sir Charles Moonman,' I said. 'And Virginia Byward.'
'Gosh, Michael, really?'
'And Mister Momma from upstairs.'
'I've met him,' she said. 'I don't know whether I have anything to wear.'
'Strictly informal. If I know Sir Charles he'll be wearing an old cardigan, and Virginia will be in a rather shapeless tunic.'
She said she would be there. At seven, Mr Momma appeared in a bulging blue jumpsuit, carrying plastic bags of lettuce and onions and some tubs of dressing. He said, 'How do you know I like parties?' and pulled one bulge out of his pocket - an avocado. His teeth were big, one was cracked, he wore a gold crucifix on a chain around his neck, and he smelled of sweat and soap. He sniffed. 'Cooking food!' He swung his bags onto the table. 'Salad,' he said. 'I make fresh. Like my madder.'
I had never seen Mr Momma happier. He shooed me out of the kitchen and then busied himself chopping and grating, and whistling through the crack in his tooth.
ALGEBRA
Tanya arrived on the dot of eight with a bottle of Hungarian Riesling. 'I'm so excited,' she said, and I realized just how calm I was. The bell rang again.
'Oh, my God,' cried Mr Momma.
Tanya went to the kitchen door and
'Your reportage is devastating.'
It was as easy as twisting a tap. I said nothing more. I simply listened to her talk, and finally she said, 'I've so enjoyed our little chat. See you Monday.'
Ronald was silent on the way home until we got to Kennington or The Oval. Then he said, 'Are you a writer?'
At Stockwell, I said, 'Are you a publisher?'
As the train drew into Clapham Common, he stood up and said, 'You're shameless.' He pushed past me and ran up the escalator.
That night Ronald slept on the chaise and the next day he moved out of the flat and out of my life.
I had not known how easy it would be to make the acquaintance of Sir Charles Moonman and Miss Byward. It had only been necessary to learn a new language, and it was one that Ronald either despised or did not know. When I went broody about Ronald's absence over the weekend I remembered the guests I'd invited for Monday and I cheered up.
But on Sunday I began to worry about the numbers. Three people did not seem much of a dinner party and I kept hearing myself saying, 'I like the intimate sort of party.' So I invited Mr Momma, too. Mr Momma, a Cypriot, was a house painter who lived in the top-floor flat. He never washed his milk bottles, so Ronald had named him 'Inky,' which was short for 'inconsiderate.' Mr Momma said he would do a salad.
On Monday I went to the library and got copies of Sir Charles's and Miss Byward's books. I was setting them out, arranging them on tables, when the phone rang. I must have been feeling a bit insecure
world's end
still because I thought at once that it was either Sir Charles or Miss Byward who had rung to say they couldn't make it after all.
'Michael?'
It was Tanya Moult, one of Ronald's authors. I should say one of Ronald's victims, because he had strung her along for years. She was working on a book about pirates, women pirates, and Ronald had said it was just the ticket, a kind of robust woman's thing. That was very Ronald. He had other people doing books on cowboys -black cowboys; hair-dressers and cooks - all men; gay heroes, and cats in history. Tanya sent him chapters and at the same time she scraped a living writing stories for women's magazines under a pseudonym. Ronald was very possessive about Tanya, but perversely so: he kept me away from her while at the same time being nasty to her.
I told her that Ronald had moved out. It was the first she had heard of it and I could tell that she was really down. Ronald had not been in touch with her about her newest chapter.
'Look, Tanya,' I said - it was the first time I had used her Christian name. 'Why don't you come round tonight? I'm having a few friends over for dinner.'
She hesitated. I knew what she was thinking - I couldn't blame her.
'Sir Charles Moonman,' I said. 'And Virginia Byward.'
'Gosh, Michael, really?'
'And Mister Momma from upstairs.'
'I've met him,' she said. 'I don't know whether I have anything to wear.'
'Strictly informal. If I know Sir Charles he'll be wearing an old cardigan, and Virginia will be in a rather shapeless tunic.'
She said she would be there. At seven, Mr Momma appeared in a bulging blue jumpsuit, carrying plastic bags of lettuce and onions and some tubs of dressing. He said, 'How do you know I like parties?' and pulled one bulge out of his pocket - an avocado. His teeth were big, one was cracked, he wore a gold crucifix on a chain around his neck, and he smelled of sweat and soap. He sniffed. 'Cooking food!' He swung his bags onto the table. 'Salad,' he said. 'I make fresh. Like my madder.'
I had never seen Mr Momma happier. He shooed me out of the kitchen and then busied himself chopping and grating, and whistling through the crack in his tooth.
ALGEBRA
Tanya arrived on the dot of eight with a bottle of Hungarian Riesling. 'I'm so excited,' she said, and I realized just how calm I was. The bell rang again.
'Oh, my God,' cried Mr Momma.
Tanya went to the kitchen door and
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