‘No, feet.’
‘What have feet got to do with anything?’
‘I thought you said you were a paediatrician. Isn’t that a foot doctor?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Sorry, I’m not very good at this. It’s my first time.’
‘I can tell.’
‘Are you enjoying it so far?’
‘Well, it’s not been a great start. But Number 18 should be opposite me in a while and he’s drop-dead gorgeous.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Nelson, looking down the line, but there were too many heads bobbing back and forth for him to locate Number 18.
‘I’m not really enjoying it either,’ he said finally.
‘I suppose that’s my fault, is it? Fucking men.’
Nelson opened his mouth, then closed it again. He started to think about his quiet room at home and how nice it would be to be there right now, lying on his bed, listening to some music and reading the latest Hilary Mantel. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said.
‘My ex-husband, my first one, he always blamed me for everything too. He’d take me out to a restaurant and sit there, saying nothing, then blame me for the silence. He said I have no personality. That the only people I can talk to are children.’
‘He sounds quite unpleasant,’ said Nelson. ‘You were right to break up with him.’
‘I didn’t. He broke up with me. And, needless to say, he got married to someone ten years younger before the ink was even dry on the divorce papers. I suppose you’ll say that I was asking for it.’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort,’ said Nelson.
‘Pfft. Men always side with other men.’
‘I don’t.’
She sighed and looked away.
‘So are you going to ask for my number or what?’
‘I know your number,’ said Nelson, pointing towards her right breast. ‘You’re Number 16. A perfect square.’
‘My phone number.’
‘Oh. No, I don’t think so.’
She laughed bitterly. ‘See?’
‘Well, it’s just that we’ve only just started talking and—’
‘I could do a lot better than you anyway.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Copper or not.’
‘I mean, if you want to give it to me—’
‘I don’t.’
‘All right, then.’
Fortunately, just as the perspiration began to break out on Nelson’s back, the bell rang and they all moved down a seat. Now Nelson was faced with Number 22, the man who’d been shouting at Alice when she was making her introductory remarks.
‘Don’t get any ideas, Romeo,’ he said immediately, holding up a hand. ‘I’m as straight as they come. I’ve had more women than you’ve had hot dinners.’
‘I am too,’ replied Nelson. ‘I’m here to meet a nice lady.’
‘Then you’ve come to the wrong place. I’ve got bigger tits than some of this lot,’ he added, looking around. ‘So we’ve got three minutes and nothing much to do. What do you want to talk about?’
Nelson drummed his fingers on his knee. He liked the way they sounded against his polyester policeman’s trousers. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we could discuss politics.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ replied Number 22.
‘Books?’
‘I don’t read books. What’s the point? None of it ever happened, people! It’s all made up!’
‘Do you watch television?’
‘Nah, fifty thousand channels and nothing on, know what I mean?’
‘Do you travel much?’ asked Nelson.
‘I go to Norwich once a month,’ he conceded. ‘To visit my Aunt Ida. She had a fall a while back. Broke her hip.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Nelson. ‘Is she recovering?’
‘No. It’ll see her off in the end, fingers crossed. Save me the train fare every month. She says she’s leaving the house to me in her will, so I’ll play friendly until she pops off, but if she doesn’t, then I’ll feel like a right mug. You watch the footie?’
‘I’m not much of a sports fan,’ said Nelson. ‘Although I do enjoy Wimbledon when it’s on.’
‘Wimbledon’s for poofs,’ said Number 22. ‘All that mincing around with royalty and strawberries and cream and pints of Pimm’s. Can’t be doing with it. I used to follow the England football team on their away matches, but I’m not allowed any more. I got banned.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Nelson, not sure that he wanted to know why.
‘Do you want to know why?’ asked Number 22.
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Nelson.
‘Because of your lot.’
‘My lot?’
‘The police. Well, the German police anyway. They stitched me up. They still haven’t got over the war, have they? Any chance to throw an Englishman in jail overnight and they take it. You know what I’d like to do to them? I’d like to line each and every one of them up against a wall and—’
‘I don’t think that’s a very healthy attitude to take, if you don’t mind my saying so,’ said Nelson.
‘You what?’
‘It’s just, when I see riots on television after international football matches, I always feel sorry for the police who have to try to keep the peace. And people like to criticize them, but if your sister was walking home alone one night and a man jumped out at her from behind the bushes and, you know, tried to attack her, then you’d be very happy if a police car went by, wouldn’t you?’
‘Are you having a laugh?’ asked Number 22, leaning forward now.
‘Or if your house was broken into,’ continued Nelson, warming to his theme. ‘Who’s the first person you’d call? Your local social worker? The parish priest? Ghostbusters? No, it’s the police, isn’t it? They provide … we provide an invaluable service, and yet people like you criticize us and call us names.’
‘Fuck me,’ said the man, shaking his head. ‘And I don’t mean that literally, Romeo. But I’ll tell you this, I respect you for standing up for your profession. I do. We’ll have to agree to disagree, but you’re not a bad fella, are you, Number 37?’
‘I hope not,’ said Nelson.
‘When’d you last get some, then?’
Nelson frowned. ‘When did I last get some what?’ he asked.
‘You know.’
‘Oh. Right. Of course. Some … a romantic … moment. Well, it’s been a while.’
‘How long? Two days? Three?’
‘A little longer,’ said Nelson.
‘I haven’t had any in about three years,’ said the man, sitting back again and crossing his arms.
‘I thought you said you’d had more women than I’d had hot dinners?’
The man looked offended. ‘Well, I have, haven’t I?’ he said. ‘When I was younger. It’s a lot of hassle now, that’s the truth. Women want you to respect them and some of them don’t even want to go home once you’re finished. Bollocks to that. I only come here for the biscuits, if I’m honest. I stock up, you see.’ He opened his bag and showed Nelson the contents and, true to his word, it was full of biscuits. ‘Gets me through the week. Last Thursday, I went to a meeting in Colliers Wood and—’