‘Still harping on that! What a worrying bulldog it is. Nicholas and Emily thought I was giving you treasures from the attic. It’s piled high with stuff they don’t like or need but cannot bear to part with. Do we have to go on about this?’
‘No, no. I’m sorry I brought it up.’
They finished the prawns and bread and butter, drank their stout. Watching the rim of froth on his glass Claud remembered his terror. When drunk he had thought he saw Laura in triplicate, she had looked so peculiar flanked by Nicholas and Emily, so unlike the woman who now sat beside him, who a short while ago had lain in his arms. ‘They are your doppelgängers,’ he said.
‘No,’ said Laura sharply. ‘We are all real, we are each separate. If they make you uneasy, find them a place in your novel.’
‘Wouldn’t you mind?’
‘Why should I? They will not be recognisable.’
‘In that case I’ll bear them in mind,’ said Claud. ‘One rather good idea would be to insert bloody Amy and her Walkman, don’t you think? I think she will fit in nicely.’ (Already my suggestion is his inspiration. Laura applauded herself.) ‘Amy might match up rather well with your mythomaniac, what is his name?’
‘Terrence,’ said Laura.
‘Oh, Laura, I love you,’ said Claud, delighted.
‘Oysters are supposed to be aphrodisiac.’ Laura piled the empty shells into a pyramid.
‘I mean I love you. Love. Love, not to be confused with lust.’
‘No?’
‘Though of course love and lust are synonymous.’
‘Like oil and vinegar in mayonnaise?’
‘You bring me to earth,’ Claud cried.
‘Was Amy a successful mayonnaise?’ asked Laura lightly.
‘No,’ exclaimed Claud, ‘she curdled. I must have been a poor cook.’
(Little does the poor boy know, thought Laura.)
‘Of course you weren’t,’ she said. You will be very good indeed before I finish with you, she thought with amusement. ‘Come on, Otis,’ she said, ‘I must go.’
‘Why Otis?’ Claud helped her into her coat. ‘You called me Otis when I met you in the market. Why Otis?’
‘It’s just a name I like, a private joke. Otis reminds me of lifts, lifts go up and down. When I first saw you I thought you had spirit which might go up and down. Otis,’ said Laura, ‘in case you’ve never noticed, is a maker’s name, you see it on lifts. Am I being pedantic?’
‘Not at all,’ said Claud, at last latching on. ‘My spirits are high, they swoop.’
‘Up, up and away.’ Laura kissed his cheek and was off down the street in a rush.