I sighed. ‘B . . .’
‘Town, river, flower, writer, composer,’ Professor Cousins coaxed.
‘Birmingham, bluebell, Barthelme, Berlioz.’
‘You missed out the river,’ Lucy Lake said. But no-one could think of a river beginning with B and, before they could, Professor Cousins suddenly gasped, ‘ The Duchess of Malfi !’ So I presumed he was meant to be teaching it – or thought he was supposed to be teaching it.
‘Roger and I went there on honeymoon,’ Sheila said vaguely, ‘the Malfi Coast, the Neapolitan Riviera.’
‘No, no, no,’ Professor Cousins corrected her gently, ‘that’s the Amalfi coast.’
‘The Neapolitan Riviera,’ Mrs Macbeth said; ‘it sounds like an ice-cream.’
‘I’ve been to the Riviera,’ Mrs McCue said unexpectedly, ‘the French Riviera. A long time ago, before I was married, before Archie was born. With a man called Frankie.’ She sighed. ‘He was rich. Very romantic, it was – walking under foreign moonlight, smoking those French cigarettes. We drove there in Frankie’s cream Bristol—’
‘A Bristol cream?’ Professor Cousins said, looking round hopefully.
‘No, a cream Bristol, it’s a car.’
‘I’ve never been further than Blairgowrie for the berries,’ Mrs Macbeth said sadly.
‘ La Terrazza dell’Infinità ,’ Professor Cousins said dreamily. ‘The Terrace of Infinity – that’s on the Amalfi Coast, you know, near somewhere I can’t remember. I had the most charming experience there once.’
‘Really?’ the romantic novelist in Philippa asked.
‘Cover her face,’ Professor Cousins murmured.
‘Whose?’ Mrs Macbeth asked, looking askance. I thought it would be as well to introduce some other topic of conversation and I asked Andrea – who had now finished the entire Border tart and looked as if she was about to throw it all back up again any minute – how her spells were coming along. I was wondering if she could magic up another Weimaraner for me.
‘Do you have dizzy spells too?’ Professor Cousins asked her, full of concern.
‘Magic spells,’ I explained to him.
‘Oh, how thrilling for you,’ Professor Cousins said, clasping his hands over his heart.
‘Well?’ I prompted Andrea, who was looking at Professor Cousins as if he was insane.
‘What exactly were you looking for?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘How about replicating something?’
‘Replicating? Replicating what?’
‘A dog.’ What a lot of problems it would solve if there could be a Hank and a Buddy.
‘Cloning,’ Philippa snorted dismissively, ‘they’ll never achieve that, not in Scotland anyway, and think of the ethical problems.’
‘No, this would solve ethical problems,’ I said. Why was I even having this ridiculous conversation, I wondered.
‘Magic,’ Professor Cousins said wistfully, ‘do you believe in it?’
No I didn’t. But I wished I did.
The front door slammed vigorously and Archie entered the kitchen on a great draught of cold outdoor air. He looked perturbed at the sight of not only Professor Cousins but also Mrs McCue and Mrs Macbeth, cosily ensconced at his kitchen table.
‘It’s like a nursing home in here,’ he complained, glaring at his mother who pulled out a chair and said, ‘Take the weight off your feet, son.’
‘You’ll be late for school,’ Philippa said to no-one in particular so that everyone glanced nervously at their watches, everyone except Maisie and Lucy Lake.
‘An education’s everything,’ Mrs McCue said encouragingly to them.
‘Well, not everything,’ Mrs Macbeth protested. ‘It’s not meat and milk, or weather, or tea or—’
‘Or sheep,’ Maisie offered.
‘Sheep?’ Philippa frowned.
‘Or roof tiles,’ Professor Cousins contributed, getting into the spirit of things, ‘or cushion covers or—’
‘Stop it now,’ a very vexed Heather said, clapping her hands like a nursery school teacher; ‘this is absolute, gratuitous nonsense.’
And so it was.
Is Achieving a Transcendentally Coherent View of the World Still a Good Thing?
I LEFT THE MCCUE HOUSE AND PUSHED PROTEUS IN HIS BUGGY along Magdalen Yard Green and down onto Riverside. I wondered if Proteus was my baby now, his mother having apparently lost all interest in him. I parked him by a bench and sat down to consider all the adjustments I would have to make to my life if I was stuck with a baby for the rest of it. Proteus dozed off, ignorant of his dubious future in my hands.