Beautiful World, Where Are You(70)
Alice put the back of her hand to her forehead as if to cool it. Could you really live here, do you think? Eileen asked. Alice looked over at her with no surprise. I do live here, she said. A frown flickered over Eileen’s features and instantly receded. No, I know that, she said. But I mean in the long term. Mildly Alice replied: I don’t know. I’d like to.
Behind them a young family made their way down from the caravan park, two children toddling ahead in matching dungarees. Why? asked Eileen. Alice gave a smile. Why not? she said. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? In a low tone Eileen answered: Sure, obviously.
She was looking down at the towel then, smoothing out creases with her long fingers, while Alice watched her. You could always come and live with me, Alice replied.
Eileen shut her eyes and opened them again. Unfortunately I have to work for a living, she said. Alice hesitated for a moment, and then answered lightly: Don’t we all. The men were coming out of the water then, glistening wet, reflecting the light of the sun, and they were speaking to one another, at first inaudibly, their shadows cast behind them on the sand, dappled blue, and the women fell silent and watched them.
/
At two o’clock, Felix went out to work and the other three walked around the village. It was a hot afternoon, black patches of tar softening on the roads, school exam students dawdling in their uniforms. In the charity shop beside the church Eileen bought a green silk blouse for six euro fifty. Felix meanwhile was wheeling a tall stillage trolley through the aisles of the warehouse, angling his body against the mechanism of the trolley in a certain precise manner in order to guide it around corners, placing his left foot just behind the back wheels while his hands loosed and then regripped the handles.
He carried out this action identically again and again, never seeming to think about it except when he miscalculated and the weight of the trolley slipped briefly out of his control. In Alice’s kitchen, Simon was making dinner, and Alice was encouraging Eileen to write a book. For some reason Eileen was holding in her lap the silk blouse she had purchased earlier in the day. Occasionally while Alice spoke she petted the blouse absent-mindedly as if it were an animal. She seemed in one sense to be giving her conversation with Alice a very deep and sustained attention, but in another sense she hardly seemed to be listening at all. She looked down at the tiles, apparently thinking, her lips sometimes moving silently as if to form words, but saying nothing.
After dinner, they walked down to meet Felix for a drink. A cool light was fading over the sea, blue and faintly yellow. Felix was standing outside The Sailor’s Friend when
they arrived, talking on the phone. He waved to them with his free hand, saying into his phone: We’ll see, I’ll ask. Listen, I’ll let you go, alright? They went inside together then. If it isn’t the bold Felix Brady, said the barman. My best customer. To the others, Felix said: That’s his idea of a joke. The four of them sat down together in a booth near the empty fireplace, drinking, and talking about different cities they had lived in. Felix asked Alice about New York, and she said she had found it stressful and confusing. She said everybody there lived in very strange buildings, with hallways and staircases that led nowhere, and none of the doors ever closed properly, even bathroom doors, even in expensive places. Felix said he had moved to London after he finished school and spent some time there working as a barman, including a short stint at a strip club, which he told them was the most depressing job he’d ever had. Addressing Simon, he asked: Have you ever been to a strip club? Politely, Simon said no. Awful places, said Felix.
You should have a look sometime, if you ever feel like things are going okay in the world. Simon said he had never lived in London but had spent a bit of time there when he was at university, and after that he had lived in Paris for several years. Felix asked whether he spoke any French, and Simon said yes, adding that his partner at the time had been Parisian and they had spoken French at home. You lived together? said Felix.
Simon was taking a drink from his glass. He nodded. How long for? said Felix. Sorry, I’m like interviewing you now. I’m just curious. Simon said about four or five years.
Raising his eyebrows, Felix said: Oh right. And you’re single now, are you? Simon gave a wry smile at that, and Felix laughed. Eileen was plaiting a lock of her hair idly with her fingers, watching them. Yes, I’m single, Simon said. Dropping the half-finished braid, Eileen interjected: Well, you’re seeing someone. This remark seemed to interest Felix, and he glanced back at Simon quickly. No, not at the moment, Simon
replied. You mean Caroline, we’re not seeing each other anymore. Eileen affected a surprised face, opening her mouth up in the shape of an ‘o’, and then, perhaps to mask some real surprise, returned to plaiting her hair. So secretive, she said. You weren’t going to tell me? To Felix, she added: He never tells me anything. Simon sat watching her, amused. I was going to tell you, he said. I was just waiting for the opportune moment. She let out a little laugh, her face turning pink. Opportune in what sense? she asked. Cheerfully Felix put his glass down on the table. Now we’re having fun, he said.
After another drink, another, and one more, they left the bar and went to get ice cream.
Eileen and Alice were laughing, talking about someone they had hated in college, who had recently married someone else they had also hated in college. Have they always been so mean? Felix said to Simon. In a humorous tone, Simon answered that Eileen had actually been a nice girl before she met Alice, and Alice called back: I knew you were going to say that. The shop on the corner with its sliding automatic doors, buzzing white light fixtures, glossy floor tiles. By the fruit and vegetable crates, a display of fresh flowers. Gravy granules, rolls of baking paper, identical bottles of vegetable oil.