“And what if something goes wrong? What if you don’t manage to... to...”
“To fuck her?” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I will. Don’t be such an old woman, Donald.”
“I’m not being anything, except prudent. I don’t want to have to wait another three weeks, that’s all. Not now.”
“You won’t, I’ve told you.”
A sudden thought struck me. It had never occurred to me before, and I was horrified to think I had overlooked something so simple. “What if Anna can’t, though?”
“What do you mean, “can’t”?”
I had the feeling he knew perfectly well what I meant. I struggled for a delicate way of phrasing it. “I mean what if it’s... if it’s her time of the month?”
Zeppo cocked his head, smirking. “If you’re talking about her having a period, don’t worry. She won’t be.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because it’s Saturday.”
He said it as though that explained everything. I hesitated, unwilling to show my ignorance. But I had to ask. “What has that to do with it?”
“Come on, Donald. Even you must know that girls don’t have periods at weekends.”
He said it so seriously that for a moment I was unsure. It was not a subject I had ever had cause to acquaint myself with. Zeppo laughed delightedly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Donald, I knew you were naive, but I didn’t think even you were that gullible!”
I stood there, stiffly embarrassed, until he had finished laughing at me. “I repeat, how can you be sure?”
Zeppo wiped his eyes, still grinning. “Because I saw she had a packet of tampons in her handbag ages ago, and made a note of the date. Unless she’s in the habit of carrying them around with her all the time, we’re well in the clear. And even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t necessarily matter. I tell you what, I’ll get you a sex-education pamphlet. You can read it before this Saturday, so you know what’s going on.”
His ridicule had stung, but been quickly forgotten in the face of my growing excitement. The scene I had imagined ever since I had seen Anna naked in the mirror would soon be a reality. All I had to do was wait a few more days.
Now, however, the waiting was nearly over, and the thought of what was going to happen in a matter of hours made me feel giddy. And, after the first drink, garrulous.
“You know, Zeppo, if anyone had told me you were a cook I wouldn’t have believed them, but that smells very good indeed. What is it?”
“Gambas a la plancha,” he said from the kitchen, from where sizzling sounds were emanating. “Or prawns fried with garlic, if you prefer. Followed by paella.”
I smiled over at Anna. “I take it we’re in for a Spanish evening, then. Actually, I was thinking about paella just the other day, and wishing I knew a good Spanish restaurant in London so I could have it more often. It never tastes the same when you cook it at home.” I realised my gaffe and immediately became flustered.
“Well, it never does when I try it, that is. I’m sure that yours is much more authentic, Zeppo. It certainly smells delicious. You’ll have to give me the recipe for it before you go on holiday. But you’re not going on holiday, are you, I was forgetting. I meant to work. Brazil.”
“Anna, could you just stir these while I take the bread through?” Zeppo asked.
“Yes, sure.” She went into the kitchen, leaving me sweating and confused in the lounge. Zeppo came out carrying a basket of cut French bread.
“More wine, Donald?” he asked, and as he leaned to take my glass hissed, “For fuck’s sake stop gabbling!”
He went back into the kitchen, and when Anna came out I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I splashed water on to my face and drank a little from the tap. Then I sat on the edge of the bath and took deep breaths until I felt composed enough to face them again.
Zeppo was just bringing in the prawns. I sat down at the table, the three of us forming a triangle, and occupied myself with a piece of bread. I had no appetite, and my only lasting impression of the food is that it was hot. I burnt my mouth on the first forkful, and ate without taste or pleasure. But Anna was loud in her praise, so I joined in, taking care not to sound too effusive.
Luckily, that was no longer a problem. From being unable to shut up, I suddenly found myself with nothing to say. I smiled and laughed and otherwise responded to the conversation, but contributed little to it. It was a struggle not to constantly keep looking at my watch, and as the minutes passed the urge became stronger and I grew even more silent.
But neither Anna nor Zeppo seemed to notice. They had enough to say without help from me, and each listened raptly whenever the other was talking. Even I could not help but be aware of the frisson between them, and that part of me that was not anxiously watching the time felt a glow of paternal pride at being responsible for bringing them together.
Then the telephone rang. I jumped, jolted out of my trance, and spilled wine on my hand.
“Excuse me,” said Zeppo, and went to answer it. I dabbed at the wine, thankful that Anna did not appear to have noticed. She was watching Zeppo.
I forced myself not to stare as I heard him say, “Hello? Yes, that’s right. Okay... Yes, he is. Just a second.” He turned to me. “It’s for you, Donald. Somebody called Roger Chamberlain.”
I did my best to look surprised as I went and took the receiver from him. “Hello?” I said. The dialling tone hummed steadily in my ear. “No, of course I don’t mind. How on earth did you know where to find me?” I paused. The tone continued. “Oh, so I did. No, that’s okay. Is everything all right?” I glanced over at the table. Anna and Zeppo were studiously trying to mind their own business. “Oh, no! You haven’t! That’s awful! What have they taken?” Again, I paused. “And have they left a mess?” I sighed, loudly. “That’s terrible. I don’t know what to say.” In fact, I really was running out of ideas. The dialling tone was an unimaginative prompter. “Yes... yes... no... No, of course not. Yes, I’m sure. About an hour, okay? Yes, I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up and went back to the table. “Bad news?” asked Zeppo.
I sat down. “Yes, it was, rather. That was a friend of mine. He’s just got back from holiday and found he’s been burgled. It sounds like they’ve left his house in an awful mess, and taken almost everything that’s not nailed down. He’s in a terrible state.”
“Has he called the police?” Anna seemed suitably convinced.
“Yes. They’ve already been, but they weren’t very helpful, apparently. He wants me to go over. He had quite a nice little collection of watercolours, and most of those are missing, but what’s upset him even more is that whoever did it defaced the ones they’ve left. He wondered if I’d go over and see if they can be salvaged. You don’t mind, do you Zeppo?”
“No, of course not.”
“Do you have to go straight away?” Anna asked. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“Well, I suppose it could, but I think he would like someone to talk to. He lives by himself, and it must have been quite a shock for him.” I hoped Anna would not question it too closely, but I was flattered that she wanted me to stay.
“How can anyone do anything like that?” she said. “It’s bad enough stealing something, but spoiling what’s left...” She shook her head.
“Sickening,” agreed Zeppo. “Can you stay for dessert, or do you have to go now?”
I looked at my watch. The hands and numerals formed a cypher that meant nothing to me. Now that the moment had come, the time was unimportant. “I think I’d better. I told him I’d be there in an hour, and he lives quite a way away.” I had a sudden moment of panic, my mind a blank, as I waited for Anna to ask exactly where he lived. But she did not.