Sisteria Read Free Page A

this lot out.’ He sounded fraught now as he brandished the socks at Beverley. ‘Do you mind telling me why I have just found nine odd socks in my drawer? I mean, what happens in this house? Is there some sock pervert who gets a thrill from going round separating them from their partners? I tell you, Beverley, if you are incapable of managing the laundry, I’ll have to take it over.’
    â€˜Melvin, I know I’m not a pretty sight in the morning, but has something Kafkaesque happened to me since we made love ten minutes ago? Have I turned into a punch bag?’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Bev, but it’s just that this bloody fucking sock thing drives me insane. I mean, where do they go? I would just love to have the time to write a thesis on this disappearing sock conundrum.’
    â€˜Try the tumble dryer,’ she said, smiling to let him know his apology had been accepted.
    While Melvin pulled the entire tumble dryer contents out on to the floor and began rummaging irritably through the pile, Beverley went over to the breakfast bar and took the letter from under the pepper pot.
    â€˜By the way, this came in the post,’ she said, holding the folded paper towards him.
    Melvin, who was by now lining up socks along the kitchen worktop while muttering to himself about having discovered a warp in the space-time continuum into which all the world’s single socks were disappearing and being teleported to the constellation Ursa Major, suddenly looked at her and turned white.
    â€˜For Chrissake, Beverley,’ he pleaded irritably, ‘don’t ever this me. I don’t need to be tortured with thises . Be specific. Who’s it from? The bank? The building society? Barclaycard? Don’t just stand there... I need to know. How much do they want?’
    â€˜Melvin, it’s not a bill. Here, read it.’
    Melvin was just about to snatch the letter from her when the mobile phone in his jacket pocket started ringing.
    â€˜For crying out loud. What now?’ Furious, he pulled up the aerial and stabbed one of the buttons. Almost at once he raised his eyes heavenwards. It was several seconds before he got the chance to contribute more than half a sentence to the one-sided conversation.
    â€˜Alma, I know... Alma, please... please will you listen to me? I know it was very good of you to come into the shop at six o’clock this morning and start the stock-taking... Of course I understand how shocked a woman of your age must have been... No, I would not like to feel a rat brush past my ankles. It must have been horrible.’ Putting the phone between his chin and shoulder, Melvin triumphantly picked up a navy ribbed sock which more or less matched the one he was wearing, and lifted his right foot. ‘OK, Alma, so now you know it was only one of the toupees which had fallen off the stockroom shelf, go and make yourself a nice cup of sweet tea...’
    Melvin was beginning to sway as he stood on one leg trying to pull on his sock. In order to stop himself falling over, he started hopping on the spot. ‘OK, OK, Alma, listen. If you really think you’re having angina pains, dial 999. But remember the last three times you went to casualty with a suspected heart attack, they told you it was your crumpets lying a bit heavy.’
    Melvin pushed down the aerial and shoved the phone into his jacket pocket. Then, leaning against one of the kitchen cupboards, he finished putting on his sock.
    Realising there were now more important matters to address than the letter, Beverley put it back under the pepper grinder and stared at her husband in disbelief.
    â€˜Toupees? You are flogging toupees now? Since when did a chemist’s shop sell toupees? I don’t get it, Melvin. There must be something I’m missing. What’s wrong with toothpaste and panty liners?’
    â€˜Look, I was going to tell you,’ he said, absentmindedly putting a maroon sock over a navy one so that