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Chapters (27)
  1. Contents
  2. About the Book
  3. About the Author
  4. Also by Howard Jacobson
  5. Dedication
  6. Title Page
  7. Prologue
  8. Part One
  9. Chapter I
  10. Chapter II
  11. Chapter III
  12. Chapter IV
  13. Chapter V
  14. Chapter VI
  15. Chapter VII
  16. Part Two
  17. Chapter I
  18. Chapter II
  19. Chapter III
  20. Chapter IV
  21. Chapter V
  22. Chapter VI
  23. Chapter VII
  24. Chapter VIII
  25. Chapter IX
  26. Chapter X
  27. Copyright

There is something about this part of the world – it might be the light or the towering cliffs or the perpendicular fields and meadows – all offering incomparable opportunities for high profile – that attracts exhibitionists. A year and a half ago a whole family of them took a winter let on a small holiday cottage in the harbour. Grandmother, mother, two sons, and a daughter-in-law. That’s only approximate – domestic confusion as to who is related to whom and how is not uncommon in this neck of the woods. The rule of thumb seems to be that if a person sharing your house looks twice your age then there is a good chance it is your parent and oughtn’t, therefore, to make a habit of sharing your bed – at least not until you’re married; otherwise it’s fairly open slather. Anyway, in the case of the family of exhibitionists, I can say for sure that there were three women and two men, and that the National Trust didn’t take at all kindly to the manner in which they disported themselves both within the cottage and without it. Just in case that sounds unreasonable, let me make it clear that the cottage stood inside the area designated as the harbour, and that the harbour is the property of the National Trust. Gossip had it that they received an official typed complaint on Trust notepaper, in response to which the grandmother (if that was who she was) sent back a signed group photograph of them all lined up against the harbour wall in a state of Nature, the women concealing their ultimate immodesty behind their National Trust membership cards and the two men more flagrant in their National Trust ties. Was it the colour of their skins, she sent a covering note to enquire, that the Trust found out of keeping? This was a sly allusion to an argument which was occupying the attention of the village at the time, on the issue of the colour of the motor cars the Trust preferred the villagers to own. For that jibe alone their emmet foreignness and impudicity might have been forgiven, but the youngest son, the ostensibly unmarried one, went and blew it.