‘He’s an odd boy in some ways,’ Vivienne was saying on the other side of the table, not listening to Carraway at all, ‘I would say rather old-fashioned. I don’t know who he takes after. He has hobbies in the way that children, these days, don’t seem to have hobbies, real, old-fashioned hobbies. Do your boys have hobbies?’
‘Hobbies?’ Caroline Carraway said, with a sharpness in her voice. ‘What do you mean, hobbies?’
‘Oh, things to pass the time, hobbies, you know,’ Vivienne said. ‘My son has half a dozen, and a strange couple of collections, too. It seems so old-fashioned nowadays – he plays the cello and the organ, he keeps a record of the morning temperature, he’s done that for years now, since he was seven. He did all the usual things that children do, like getting obsessed with dinosaurs, only with him it was cactuses, cacti I should say, he always corrects me.’
‘No,’ Charles Carraway said heavily. ‘I don’t think Nick or Nathan do any of that, actually.’
‘Can Bina take your plate away, Vivienne?’ Shabnam Khan said.
‘This was truly delicious, Shabnam, delicious – thank you – thank you! Well, children are all so
‘time we were at my friend’s house, my friend Alice, it was amazing,’ Anita was saying.
‘I don’t know,’ Nathan was saying. ‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘This is this one time when her boyfriend Jonah wasn’t there, because he’s like always there, he and she, they’re like always all over each other with tongues and shit.’
‘I don’t know what you said,’ Nathan said. He was insistent. ‘What did you say?’
‘What you saying, wallad?’ Nick said.
‘What did you say?’ Nathan said. ‘You said something like, This shit is booky, man.’
‘Yeah, man, I said this shit is booky, man,’ Nick said.
‘Oh, yeah, cool,’ Nathan said.
‘Am I just like talking to myself, or whatever?’ Anita said.
‘You don’t know what booky means!’ Nick said.
‘Yeah, I do, man, I invented it, wallad,’ Nathan said.
‘Yeah, well, what’s it mean then, you feel me,’ Nick said.
‘I ain’t dealing with you and you foolishness,’ Nathan said.
‘What’s it mean?’ Nick said.
‘Fuck you,’ Nathan said.
‘What’s it mean!’ Nick said, and launched himself at Nathan with a chicken samosa in either hand, grinding them into Nathan’s face. They had disintegrated by the time Nick finished.
‘Fuck you,’ Nathan said, brushing the food from his T-shirt and trousers.
‘It means like when you ain’t sure what’s going on,’ said Nick, ‘you think there’s like a conspiracy, you think it’s gonna lead to something bad, then you’re like This shit is booky, man, that’s what it means. I ain’t believe you don’t know what booky means, man.’
‘I know what it means, man,’ Nathan said with disgust.
‘This shit is booky, man,’ Basil said experimentally.
‘Poor little boys,’ Anita said. ‘I know where you can find something better than that poppers, though.’
‘Ah, fuck you, Anita, with your no more vodka and your Indian Cornish pasty or whatever,’ Nick said.
‘No, seriously,’ Anita said. ‘Look at this. My dad would go spare if he knew I knew about this.’
She raised herself from the floor, and went over to the desk. She pulled out the second highest drawer on the left, and awkwardly felt under the bottom of the top drawer. She tugged, and came away holding a small key attached to a strip of Sellotape. She made a mock curtsy.
‘Yeah, what’s that, the key to your mum’s sewing box?’ Nathan said.
‘No, little boy,’ Anita said. ‘It’s the key to the top drawer. My dad thinks I don’t know where he hides it.’
‘So what the fuck’s in the fucking top drawer?’ Nick said.
‘Oh, you wait and see,’ Anita said. ‘You just wait and see.’
‘I don’t think you should be doing that, Anita,’ Basil said. ‘I just don’t think so. If your daddy hid the key like that, he really doesn’t want you to be using it or knowing that it’s there even.’
She took no notice, and put the key in the lock and turned. She gave a little cry of triumph. She pulled something out, pushed the drawer to, and locked it again. She turned round. In her hand there was a small plastic sachet, half filled with some white powder.
‘Oh, my days,’ Nick said. ‘The fuck is that. That is never your dad’s, I don’t fucking believe it.’
‘He thinks my mum doesn’t know about it,’ Anita said. ‘He gets it and then he likes to have a little snort off it sometimes in the evenings when we all think he’s working up here. I saw what he looks at on the computer, and it’s all like lesbian porn – he has a snort of this stuff, and then he switches on his computer and watches these like whores going at it, and my mum’s like going don’t disturb your dad and shit, he’s working so hard at the moment, and I’m like trying not to piss myself like laughing.’
‘Man that shit is nang,’ Nathan said. ‘Yeah, this is like the best evening ever, turning into.’
‘Turning into, man, turning into,’ Nick said, and they bumped their fists together. ‘We is going to watch us some of that lesbian porn and get high. You ever see lesbian porn, Basil, my man?’
‘But what on earth is that stuff?’ Basil said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that. What on earth is Mr Khan doing hiding it in his top drawer?’
‘Ah, well,’ Nathan said. ‘We is going to show you just how excellent a ting can be, and you is going to have yourself a good time.’
‘We’ve just stayed too late for the children,’ Vivienne was saying, helping Basil into his overcoat at the end of the evening. ‘Basil gets so tired, he sort of stops making sense altogether.’
‘Poor little boy,’ Michael Khan said. ‘I hope you all had a good time, children.’
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Khan,’ Nathan – or was it Nick? – said. The three others were in a line on the stairs, Anita’s head in a shadow from the upstairs landing. ‘We had a smashing time.’
‘Come back soon,’ Anita’s disembodied voice said. Michael Khan gave her a glance, a suspicious glance. What had happened? he seemed to be asking himself; but then his head clarified, and he smiled again.
‘Come on, you,’ Vivienne said to Basil. ‘It’s time you were in bed, really.’
‘Time, yeah,’ Basil said, his head lolling from side to side with tiredness. ‘That is just so wrong.’
‘Poor little boy,’ Shabnam Khan said, laughing a little. ‘Your car’s not blocked in, is it, Vivienne? It was lovely to see you, too, Charles – Caroline. I guess the next time we see you, we’ll have been to Washington State, we’ll have lots of lovely boring whale stories