Elsewhere in Success Read Free Page B

of the car, glances sideways, catches her watching him, bows his head and hurries on. Louisa carries an unused visual diary and a box of colouredpencils in the glove box. She opens the diary but can’t bring herself to make the first mark, so she leans back in the seat and falls asleep. By the time she wakes, feeling chilled, the traffic has already built up and died down. Harry doesn’t bat an eye when she walks in hours late. He glances up from the TV.
    â€˜Good session?’ he says.

CHAPTER THREE
    Overnight it pours. The small front passes, leaving everything sparkling and refreshed. Outside the sky is clear and the day is warming up. Harry has turned the radio on to his usual community station and a local Elvis impersonator is doing ‘Love Me Tender’. Harry sends it up, singing along in his best generic American accent, drops to one knee and holds out his arms for the big finale. He bellows the last note and holds position, waiting for her applause. She’s not in the mood.
    On the table is a vase of flowers from the weekend before. Louisa touches one of the yellow flowers lightly with her left index finger and watches its petals drift onto the lace surface.
    Harry struggles to his feet. He looks a little disappointed by her lacklustre response. He whips a tea towel over his shoulder, draws on his extra-large rubber gloves, starts the dishes and switches to the song that is now playing on the radio.
    â€˜You can have my sheila but don’t touch my akubra,’ he sings.
    â€˜Oh for goodness sake!’ she says in mock exasperation. She smiles, and he is encouraged to sing more loudly. ‘Stop it,’ she wails, deciding to throw herself in completely. ‘Next thing you’ll have the dogs joining in.’
    Today there are two dogs, one borrowed. Louisa risesawkwardly from the table, stepping over them. They have defied the rules of the house and entered the restricted area of the dining room. They have a doggy smell that she tries to cover with citrus room freshener, but the dogs won’t have it. They smell even more, out of spite.
    She claims she’s not a dog person, but her hand goes out to give each of them a pat as she passes. They wag their tails and look for food.
    She stands by the sink to watch Harry do the dishes.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ she asks him.
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜Are you making all that noise because you think I should be doing the dishes?’
    He is rattling away with the cutlery, creating a sort of washing machine effect in the water that he insists is an efficient way to clean the knives and forks. She is distracted by thoughts of having to do them again once he leaves the sink. He doesn’t care. Her presence gives him the opportunity to perform.
    He sings loudly. ‘The guy with the perfect grin is standing imprudently still.’
    She laughs. ‘Talking about yourself?’
    â€˜An oldie, but a goodie.’
    â€˜An oldie,’ she says, but her mind is elsewhere. What was she thinking a moment ago? She was imagining a more innocent time, a happier time, thinking about something that happened when she was at school, but she can’t remember what it was. The past slips away. The future on the other hand seems relentlessly fixed, as if she is walking into an ever-narrowing funnel of – of what? Possibilities? Impossibilities?
    That’s it. She was thinking that she should have been more pig-headed, because at school she’d wanted to be a pilot, or an archaeologist, but her parents had dissuaded her. Only very clever boys became pilots, and only rich people became archaeologists, they’d told her. That was just the way it was.
    â€˜Why?’ she’d said, but can’t recall the answer. The real question is why wasn’t she more argumentative as a teenager? Perhaps she was. When did she learn to be so acquiescent?
    â€˜The way we were,’ murmurs Louisa, prompting Harry to