Dinner at Mine Read Free

Barbara flicked his hand away.
    ‘There must be something else,’ she said.
    ‘You can complete Approved Application Request No. 3742b.’
    ‘Jesus!’ Barbara shouted even louder.
    The woman’s voice on the end of the line was muffled, but Justin could still make out her words and tone of dogged neutrality. He felt sorry for her, really. It wasn’t her fault,
after all. She didn’t make the rules. She just had to sit there all day and listen to people like Barbara shout at her. Probably didn’t get much more than the minimum wage for it
either. Perhaps Barbara should tone it down a bit.
    ‘But don’t you realize how stupid that is?’
    ‘I’m sorry, madam. I’m just explaining the rules.’
    ‘You’re making me really fucking mad here, you know that?’
    ‘I’m sorry, madam, but if you continue to swear at me I will have to terminate the call.’
    Justin reached out his hand again, but looked at Barbara’s face and thought better of touching her.
    ‘I’m not swearing at you, I’m . . . I ’m . . . All right, I’m sorry.’ Barbara closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Justin felt proud of her.
‘OK, to get the extension of leave to remain, never mind the approval form, what else do I need?’
    ‘First, you will need to complete a Financial Independence Declaration, including three recent bank statements proving you have funds beyond the required minimum.’
    ‘How much is that?’
    ‘Eight hundred pounds, madam.’
    ‘All right. Anything else?’
    ‘There is an application fee.’
    ‘And how much is that?’
    ‘Eight hundred pounds, madam.’
    Barbara threw the phone across the room. Justin got up from the sofa and went to pick it up. He made sure it wasn’t broken before giving Barbara a comforting pat on the arm. She tensed but
didn’t pull away.
    ‘Don’t get upset, honey,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t her fault.’
    ‘Don’t get upset? I am upset! Your stupid fucking country and its stupid fucking bureaucracy!’
    ‘It’s the system. It’s all based on fear. There are some campaign groups fighting for a fairer way of doing things. We could join them.’
    ‘I don’t care about campaign groups! They’re going to kick me out.’
    ‘I’m sure they won’t. Just be grateful you’re not an asylum seeker.’
    ‘That’s really comforting, Justin. Jesus!’
    Justin couldn’t see what he’d said wrong. He tried patting her arm again. She brushed him off and stood up.
    ‘Barbara, I’m sorry, just tell me what to do and I’ll—’
    ‘I think I’m going to go and lie down,’ she said, suddenly subdued.
    ‘All right. We can get a taxi tonight if you want.’
    ‘A taxi? Where?’
    ‘To your friend Rosie’s for dinner. Didn’t you see the menu?’
    ‘I can’t go to a stupid dinner tonight! I’m not in the mood.’
    ‘I think we really ought to. She’s doing a vegetarian thing specially.’
    ‘Can’t you tell her I’m not coming?’
    ‘She’s your friend – I’ve never met her.’
    ‘Jesus!’
    Justin craned round on the sofa to watch Barbara stamp across the hall of their tiny flat. Maybe it was best to let her go for the time being.
    ‘I’ve got to send some e-mails about the Malawi project,’ he called after her. ‘I’ll come and get you after that.’
    Rosie sniffed anxiously at the steam that billowed up when she took the lid off the rice. Was it fragrant? She thought not. The sweetness of the currants was just about there,
and a hint of allspice, perhaps, but overall it was more of a wet cloud than a delicate Middle-Eastern aroma.
    With a wooden spoon, she fished out a couple of grains and bit them gingerly. They disintegrated at the first touch of her teeth, leaving a grainy paste smeared on her tongue. Rosie felt the
edge of coming panic. Massively overdone. Massively.
    It’s OK, she told herself quickly. It’s only rice. She drained the pot thoroughly and flicked in a few more sultanas and wisps of dill before putting the lid back on.