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Back Life at the Top Save as PDF
Chapters (30)
  1. Introduction
  2. LIFE AT THE TOP
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. About the Author
  30. About the Cover

“All right, then. That’s all fixed.”

“You’d better ask Sybil if she wants to stay first.”

Sybil looked almost coy. “It’s sweet of you, Susan . . . But I’d better not. I want to think things out in the cold light of day . . .” She stood up.

“I don’t know what I’d have done without you these past few days. Bless you. Bless you both.”

She burst into tears again. “I wish I were dead!” she cried. “I wish I were dead!”

Susan put her arm around her. “Poor Sybil. Don’t worry, dar­ling, we’ll look after you—”

I put a handful of peanuts in my mouth; it was too late for a meal now.

“I’m going,” I said to Susan. “I won’t be late.”

She nodded absently. All her attention was on Sybil. Sybil’s noisy and untidy sorrow was filling the room; it even seemed to follow me into the dining-room where Gerda was undressing Barbara.

“Where are the other children?” I asked Gerda.

“They’re in the back garden,” Gerda said. “I think they’re all crying . . .”

“I hit Linda again,” Barbara said, emerging from her vest. “She runned away. And Vivien and Helen runned away too, they did.”

“That’s very naughty of you,” I said. But I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. Barbara smiled back at me, quite unafraid; I picked her up and held her wriggling, shoulder high. “You’re very very naughty,” I said.

“I’ll sing you a song,” she said.

“Daddy must go now, pet.”

“Summer’s suns are glowing, Happiness is flowing—” She stopped, scowling.

“Go on,” I said.

“I’ll hit them again if they take my panda and my golly and my bike.”

I started to laugh. “That’s my daughter,” I said. “No one’ll push you around.”

She looked puzzled. “What say, Daddy?”

I kissed her. “It doesn’t matter. We understand each other, you and I.”

She nodded; and it was as if the room were bigger and the table set with plenty. Suddenly, hungry and disgruntled though I was, I wanted to cry with happiness.

9

9

Mark’s house always smelled of fish, it wasn’t like the smell from a fish and chip shop, coarse but warm and cheerful, nor was it the seafood smell, sharp but fresh and sweet. It was as if every day for every meal they’d been eating boiled cod. No one else but me – and once Barbara, at the top of her voice – seemed to have noticed it. I’ve often wondered whether it actually existed phys­ically, whether what I thought I smelled wasn’t, quite simply, unhappiness.