‘In normal circumstances, yes. But you haven’t met my mother. It’s very much the sort of thing she might do. She likes to tell people that she taught me how to masturbate, just because she thinks it makes her sound hip.’
‘And did she?’
‘If she did, she did an excellent job, since I’m thinking of turning professional.’
Rebecca smiled.
‘We have thousands of books in our house, of course, because of my parents’ jobs, but I can’t remember the last time I saw either of them reading one. Someone told me earlier that she thinks everyone in my family just stares at their phones.’
‘And is that true?’
‘I’m afraid it might be.’
Rebecca nodded. ‘Have you ever heard of the word tsundoku?’ she asked.
‘Like that puzzle in the papers?’
‘No, that’s Sudoku.’
‘Then no, I haven’t.’
‘It’s a Japanese word. The constant act of buying books but never reading them.’
‘Right. Well, that’s what they’ve got, then. My father bought this massive biography a couple of days ago and seemed very excited about it, but I know for a fact that it’s been sitting on his bedside table ever since, unopened, just gathering dust. Both my parents used to be massive readers. But not so much any more, for some reason.’
‘Do you like your mum?’ asked Rebecca, and Achilles frowned.
‘Of course I do,’ he said, surprised by the question. ‘I love her.’
‘No, I meant do you like her books?’
‘Oh, I don’t read them.’
‘What, you’ve never read any of them?’
‘Well, I read her first two, and they weren’t bad, actually. But ever since then, she’s hired a ghost and I just can’t be bothered. She’s had a few over the years. Ghosts, I mean. The last one got eaten by a lion, if you can believe it. I preferred it when she wrote them herself.’
‘Still,’ said Rebecca, as she raised a hand only slightly and a waiter came over in an instant, a skill among beautiful women that Achilles had long envied. ‘If my mother was a novelist, or had her name on the front of novels, at least, I’d want to read them.’
‘What does your mother do?’ he asked, as he finished his first beer and the second was placed before him. He didn’t normally drink lager, preferring rum and Coke, but he didn’t want to make any suggestion that she’d ordered wrong.
‘She’s a minister,’ said Rebecca.
‘A minister? Like a priest?’
‘Yes.’
‘Gosh!’
‘I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say gosh before outside of an Enid Blyton book.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever said it,’ admitted Achilles. ‘I don’t know where it came from. I feel embarrassed now. I should have said fuck me.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed, I thought it was cute.’
‘Really? Gosh!’
‘Don’t milk it. Anyway, yes, she’s a minister, and I think I told you that Dad is a chiropodist.’
‘Cool.’
‘Is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid to say anything now. Are they still together?’
‘No, they split up last year.’
‘That must have been difficult for you.’
‘It was vile.’
He nodded. The conversation was becoming quite personal and he wasn’t accustomed to such talk.
‘I suppose I’m lucky that my parents are still together,’ he said. ‘I’d hate it if they broke up.’
‘You have a tendency to do that, you know,’ said Rebecca.
‘To do what?’
‘To take something that somebody is telling you about themselves and then turn it around so the conversation returns to you.’
‘That’s because I’m an asshole,’ he said, lifting his drink and taking a large draught. His phone beeped in his pocket with a text message, but he ignored it for now.
‘It could be that,’ replied Rebecca. ‘Or it could be that you’re uncomfortable learning too much about other people. Delving too much into their lives. Because if you know they’re hurting, then maybe you’ll feel obliged to help in some way.’
‘That makes me sound like a better person than I think I am.’
She leaned forward and held his eyes with hers. ‘You don’t think you’re a good person, Achilles?’
He swallowed, feeling the blood inexplicably rush to his face. He never blushed, especially not in front of girls, and didn’t know quite what to do. He leaned forward now too, hoping that they might kiss, but instead she sat back and looked away, glancing at another boy, almost as handsome as Achilles, who was passing by.
‘I think I’m okay,’ he said, trying to reclaim her attention. ‘But I could be a lot better. I don’t cheat on my girlfriends, for one thing. If I don’t want to be with someone, then I’m not.’
His phone beeped again but he still ignored it.
‘Will you excuse me?’ asked Rebecca. ‘I need the loo. And someone’s clearly keen to get your attention. Maybe it’s whoever sent you the snaps of her tits last night.’
‘I told you I was kidding,’ he said, but she’d already walked away and disappeared inside the pub. He took his phone from his pocket, tapped in his code and read the message:
Jeremy Arlo
Still ok for tomorrow night?
He stared at it for a few moments, weighing up his options. He wasn’t sure why, but his confidence wasn’t as high as it usually was.
Achilles Cleverley
Of course!
He watched as the blue dots indicated Jeremy was typing and waited for the reply.
Jeremy Arlo
Great, looking forward to it.
Achilles experienced something approaching shame. He’d never before cared about the feelings of the men whose money he extorted, they were just casual marks to him, but something about the idea of Jeremy sitting at home alone, planning dinner or drinks for the following night, made him feel bad. He considered typing something kind in reply, but Rebecca reappeared at that moment and stood by her chair.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘But my mum just called me while I was in there. She’s in a bad way.’
‘She’s sick?’
‘She’s depressed. I should probably go home to her.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m sorry. Can we do this another time? I have to be there for her.’ She took her coat from the back of her chair. ‘You do understand, don’t you?’
‘This isn’t just a ruse to leave, is it?’ he asked. ‘Because if you’re not interested in me, you can just say so and—’
‘It’s not a ruse,’ she said. ‘Honestly, things have just been really difficult at home. Look, text me, okay? We’ll do this again, I promise.’
He nodded and stood up, moving closer towards her, hoping for a kiss, but she turned her head, offering only her cheek. And then, a moment later, she was gone.
Disappointed, he watched her disappear into the night and wondered whether this was what falling in love felt like. And then, after a few moments, he began to feel angry. It was night time, after all, he looked great and had nowhere to go. Sure, he could go to a club and pick up a girl easily enough, but he didn’t want to do that. No one had ever walked out on him before. Add that to the things the ghost had said to him earlier on the Tube, and the evening was turning into a disaster. He took his phone from his pocket and tapped out a quick message.