‘Well, I did publish Two Germans,’ he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking a little wounded by that remark. ‘So, to be fair, I was the first person to spot your talent.’
‘Erich Ackermann was the first person to spot my talent,’ I pointed out.
‘And look what happened to him,’ said Garrett.
‘But you’re right. You did publish me. Twice, in fact. Before you dropped me.’
‘In retrospect, that whole situation was handled rather badly,’ Rufus replied, looking down at the floor. ‘I was fairly new to the game myself and I listened to the bean counters upstairs when I should have followed my gut. I always knew that you were the real deal.’
‘It would have been nice to have heard that at the time,’ I said. ‘It was quite a blow when you showed me the door. It led to some pretty dark years.’
No one said anything for a few moments. I’d only been at their table a few minutes but had already managed to insult them both and make them each feel like shit, so I was beginning to feel that my work there was done. Suddenly I longed for the days before I’d met Theo, when I was just a solo drinker and rarely spoke to anyone. Life was simpler then.
‘Anyway,’ I said at last, placing a hand on both their shoulders simultaneously and squeezing them just enough to leave a bruise, ‘I’ve probably taken up enough of your time. It was nice to see you both. And congratulations again, Garrett, on your longlisting.’
‘Shortlisting,’ he said, but the word was thrown at my back for I’d already walked away and was heading back to our table.
‘Sorry about that,’ I said as I sat down, and Theo shook his head as if to say, No problem, while he put his phone away. ‘A couple of old friends. You probably know one of them. Garrett Colby?’
‘The writer?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve heard of him. I’ve never read him.’
‘You’re better off. He’s an idiot. And his work is infantile. His first book had something to do with talking animals, if I recall correctly.’
‘Like Animal Farm.’
‘Yes, just without the wit, the politics, the style or the genius.’
Theo laughed and took a long drink from his pint. He still seemed distracted by the revelation I had made but I was determined not to talk about that any more. I didn’t want to make a bigger issue of it than it needed to be.
‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘Where were we?’
‘You were telling me about The Tribesman and how you—’
‘No, we’ve covered that. Something else.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Well, you were going to talk to me about Daniel, but instead we—’
My good humour melted away instantly. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘Well, what else would you like to know?’
‘Anything you want to tell me. Was he a writer?’
‘No. A good reader but not a writer.’
‘Did he see much of the world?’
‘Some. A little of Europe, with me, when we travelled to festivals. But not enough.’
‘And when he died—’
‘I don’t want to talk about the day itself, if you don’t mind,’ I said.
‘Of course. That’s fine.’
‘Another time, maybe,’ I said, looking away. ‘It’s not an afternoon that I like to revisit.’
‘Time for a smoke then, if you don’t mind,’ he said, standing up, and I nodded as he made his way out of the door, glancing at Garrett and Rufus as he went. I put the beermats on top of our pints and made my way into the toilet, where I pressed one hand against the wall as I pissed. When I went back outside I ordered more drinks and sat waiting for him. Upon his return, he sat down, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and the smell of nicotine from his jacket made me sit back a little. I’ve never liked the smell of cigarettes. I had caught Daniel with them once and we’d had a rare argument when I’d pointed out how damaging it could be to him, given his asthma.
‘By the way,’ he said, finishing his pint and starting on the next one. ‘I have some good news.’
‘Oh yes?’ I asked. ‘What’s that?’
‘I got a commission to write a couple of book reviews for Time Out. I sent them a sample of my work and they offered me two novels for next month’s issues. If they’re happy with what I produce, then there’s a good chance I’ll get some more.’
‘That’s excellent news,’ I said, pleased for him. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks, yeah. I’m really happy about it. It doesn’t pay much but it gets my name into print.’
‘And what have they asked you to review?’
He named a couple of authors and their new books and I nodded. ‘They’re good writers,’ I said. ‘I like both their work.’
‘So do I,’ he said. ‘That’s what worries me.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Well, it would be much better if I got some bad novels to review. Preferably bad novels by famous writers. Then I could, you know, write some killer reviews. Really take them down.’
‘Make a name for yourself, you mean.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I suppose there’s nothing to stop you doing that, anyway,’ I said. ‘You don’t owe them anything.’
‘Problem is, if they get good reviews everywhere else and I write a negative one, I might just be seen as someone who didn’t fully understand the work.’
‘Or as someone with an independent mind.’
‘Perhaps. Anyway, I’m going to start reading the first one later tonight. Hopefully it will be terrible.’
‘Fingers crossed,’ I said.
I looked up as a shadow fell across our table and was alarmed to see Rufus and Garrett standing there, dreading the idea that they might want to join us.
‘Just wanted to say goodbye,’ said Rufus, setting my mind at rest. ‘We’re meeting some people for drinks at the Charlotte Street Hotel. To celebrate Garrett’s shortlisting. You’re welcome to join us if you like.’
‘Oh Lord, no,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I can scarcely think of anything I’d enjoy less.’
He reared back in surprise, as if I’d just made an unkind remark about his mother. He pushed his glasses up his nose again – really, he ought to get them tightened – and turned to Theo, and, in a heartbeat, the smile vanished from my face when I remembered my earlier lie.
‘Rufus Shawcross,’ he said, extending a hand. ‘I published your father’s first two novels.’
Theo stared at the hand for a moment, then shook it. ‘I’m sorry?’ he asked, frowning.
‘You’re… Danny, is that right?’
Theo looked at me for a moment, but I was lost for words. There was simply nothing I could say that would not make me look ridiculous.
‘Daniel,’ said Theo, turning back to Rufus. ‘No one ever calls me Danny. At least not since I was a little boy.’
‘Daniel, then,’ he said. ‘You have a very talented father. We need him to write another book, it’s been far too long. Well, it was nice to meet you, anyway. Goodbye, Maurice.’
‘Goodbye,’ I said, watching the pair of them as they walked away and dreading the moment I would have to turn back to Theo.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what made him say such a thing. He mustn’t know… he must have just assumed…’
‘It’s fine,’ he replied. ‘When you didn’t say anything, I thought it was easier just to go with it. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do.’
‘I don’t think I knew myself,’ I said. ‘But thank you, anyway. It made an awkward moment almost bearable.’
‘He seemed like a bit of a twat, anyway,’ said Theo.
‘No,’ I replied quietly, shaking my head. ‘No, he’s a very decent man, really. I shouldn’t have spoken to him in the way that I did.’