Evening Sickness

By Mark Bravery

It is March 1997. Four people are dining together in a north London restaurant. Each of them nurses a personal secret. The reader is privy to their most intimate thoughts. The relationships between the four are set to be fundamentally changed when their secrets are disclosed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291967890

Book preview

Evening Sickness

EVENING SICKNESS

by Mark Bravery

Copyright © 2014, Mark Bravery

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-291-96789-0

1

Denise had not told Martin that she was pregnant.  It was not that she wanted to deprive him of the knowledge of his impending fatherhood.  Rather, she felt that he did not deserve to know just yet.  For the time being it was her little secret, something sacred that he could not defile by word or deed.

Did somebody mention coffee?  Thank God!  Going home soon.  It'll be a relief to get back.  How they talked and talked.  Football and politics, as usual.  Why do I bother coming?  Martin was behaving like a pig.  As usual.  Stuffing his face.  Waving his fork around, arguing with Manny.  Something to do with the Middle East.  Now he's like a volcano that's finished erupting.  Slightly pissed.  Sauce spots all over his shirt.  That'll need washing.  He could do with a haircut, too.  God, I need a cigarette!

I still think you're wrong about the PLO.

Not that again! Give it a rest, Martin.

They're the only voice the Palestinians have got.

Manny's looking up.  Seems rather sombre.  Like a judge.

Not at all.  There are more instruments than one in a horn concerto.  You know I support the homeland.  That surely carries weight with you, Martin.

I know, I know.  I can't help but applaud the liberal Jew.  But as a socialist, you need to go further.  You need a dash of radicalism.

I sometimes think, Martin, that you wouldn't recognise radicalism if it bit you on the anus. 

That's put him in his place.  Made him look a right prat.  Now perhaps he'll shut up. 

But we're boring Michael and Denise.  How about that coffee?  Cappuccinos all round?     

Thank God!  Manny to the rescue.

Yes, please.  And you won't mind if I smoke now, will you?

That'll annoy Martin.  He's off to the loo.  His famous bladder.  Where's my handbag?  Down there.  Manny's a gentleman.  Can be very rude to Martin, but always polite to me.  Old fashioned, in a way.   The waiter's seen him already.  Only two left.  Have to get some more tomorrow.  Perhaps it's because he's gay.  Feels some sort of solidarity with women.  That Cosmo article on gay icons.  Marilyn Monroe.  He's got a cigar out.  Offering me a light.  Such a gent.  Smile.

Thanks. 

That's better.  Take a puff.  I love those strands of blue-grey smoke.  Disappearing up into the hazy restaurant lights.  Like my thoughts.  Thought then lost forever.  That Michael's looking at me again.  Hasn't said much.  Rather shy.  Know the type.  Manny's talking to him now.  Martin's bound to say he's Manny's latest toy boy.  Not long since that last guy left the scene.  Duncan.  They'd been together a while.  Men!  Always wants to know other people's business.  We're supposed to be the inquisitive ones.  I suppose he and Manny are old friends.  But to hear him talking about him behind his back.  They say women are cats.  Mind you, it was funny the way that Duncan vanished off the face of the earth.  Manny's not said much about it.  Not quite been his usual bouncy self tonight.  He's a deep one, though.  Cleverer than Martin.  Though he would never admit it.  God, what will he be like as a father?  I can see him, though, holding the baby up in his arms.  He'll be so pleased when I tell him.  Of course, I mustn't count my chickens.  Things can go wrong.  Linda lost her first one.  That night, when she came round.  I couldn't stand those bitter tears.  All right now, though.  Suppose I'll have to give up these things.  Martin's back.  Scowling at something.  Definitely had a bit too much to drink tonight.  Thinks he can take it.  Looking at me again.  Staring at my tits.  Why can't men look you in the face?  Even that Michael's at it.  Maybe he's not gay.  Nice eyes.  Youngish.  Still in his twenties, I'd say.  Certainly younger than the other two.  And sad.  I know the type.  Not that he'd ever come looking for it.  Too timid.  God, I could do with that coffee.  That fellow's passing the table again.  Stealing a look.  They think we don't notice.  Wearing this dress was definitely a mistake.  What was I thinking of?  Bursting out of it.  I'll be a sight in a few months' time.  Have to get some new gear.  Of course, can't be sure.  Please, God, make it all right.  Perhaps I'd better go to church again.  Mum would like that.  Must see her next week.  Linda's coming round before then.  Tuesday tea time.  With the kids.  Should I tell her?  Or Mum first.  Perhaps Martin had better know first.  I'm sure it's normal to tell the father first.  How will he react?  He'd like the fertility thing.  Feel he's potent.  He'll probably want to do it.  First time for bloody ages.  Maybe the last time was when it happened.  Have to try to work it out.  That night after we'd got back from that concert.  I could tell he wanted it as soon as we got in.  Not got it anywhere else that night.  Cigarette nearly out.  Better not have another one.  One more in the packet.  Last one before the big day?  I'll never keep to that.  Should have made that New Year's resolution.  Would have been over two months now.  Never mind.  I've got a reason now.  Here comes that coffee.  Manny and Michael are deep in conversation.  Martin's looking this way. 

You seem very thoughtful. 

How observant of you!

You know I like to let you men do all the talking.  I just sit here looking decorative.

And very good at it you are too.

Bastard!  Give him a silly smile.  Coffee.  Helpful distraction.

Thank you.

I don't really feel like talking.  Maybe I'll tell him when we get home.  No, he's too pissed.  Still looking at me.  Ignore him.  Coffee's hot.  I feel tired.

*    *    *

To Martin, fewer things were more pleasurable than spending an evening consuming good food and wine, while indulging in intellectual conversation with his friends.   For several years he and Denise had patronised a particular Italian restaurant in Islington.  Manny, who lived locally, usually joined them.  Sometimes one or two of Martin's teacher colleagues would come along.  Occasionally one of Denise's friends would turn up.  It usually worked out that there were four of them.  But if there were six or seven, no matter.  The waiters knew Martin well, and would always find a suitable table.

Leave ordering the coffee to Manny.  He's been in good form tonight.  Trying to impress his new friend.  Michael.  He hasn't said much.  Reluctant to express an opinion.  Rather boring, I thought.  I look forward to telling Manny that.  Pause in conversation.  That tiramisu was good.  I need a pee.  Go in a minute.  Must sort out this PLO point.  Manny's been knocking the wine back.  Bit befuddled, I bet.  Time to return to the attack.  Can't let him be seen to win all the arguments.

I still think you're wrong about the PLO.  They're the only voice the Palestinians have got.

Bit sudden.  Should have thought about it first.  

Not at all.  There are more instruments than one in a horn concerto. 

What's this pompous crap?  That patronising smile of his.  And he hasn't finished.

You know I support the homeland.  That surely carries weight with you, Martin.

What am I supposed to say to that?  Must say something. 

I know, I know.  I can't help but applaud the liberal Jew. But as a socialist, you need to go further.  You need a dash of radicalism.

That was a bit desperate.  This one could be slipping away from me.

I sometimes think, Martin, that you wouldn't recognise radicalism if it bit you on the anus. 

You fat bastard! 

But we're boring Michael and Denise.  How about that coffee?  Cappuccinos all round?     

She's smiling now. 

Yes, please.  And you won't mind if I smoke now, will you?

The bitch.  She knows I hate her smoking in public. Rummaging around in her handbag.  I'll go for that piss. 

Excuse me a moment.

Of course, Manny loves to tease me.  He's clever, very quick in argument.  I concede that.  God, I need that pee quickly.  That beer may have been a mistake.  After the wine.  But, at root, I know I'm right about most things.  I've got political convictions, certainties.  He just plays around with ideas and arguments.  Nothing for him is ever fixed.  That urinal's rather full.  Cigarette butts, probably.  Use the other one.  Take the Middle East.  All intelligent people accept that the Palestinian people were due their own homeland.  Hello, old friend.  Looking plump tonight.  Ah, that's better.  Blessed relief.  Manny is Jewish, so it was understandable that he doesn't enthuse about the idea.  Different from us.  Can I reach the metal at the top?  Whoops, missed there!  Hope that bloke who's just come in didn't see that.  Lots of Jewish intellectuals accept the arguments.  With Manny, though, you could never be sure.  Little shake.  Careful with the zip.  Back to the fray.  She'll still be smoking.  Does it on purpose to annoy me.  Bloody bitch!  Why did I end up with her?   Cow.  Slut.  What was she before I met her?  I dragged her up from the gutter.  Educated her.  And all she can do is treat me with contempt.  There she is.  Manny's loving it, the Jewish bastard.  Fucking Yid.  Sometimes I think the Nazis had the right idea.  No, mustn't think that.  Not correct.  But who cares anyway?  What you think.  When you come down to it, Denise is a slut.  Always was and always will be.  Look at the way she's dressed tonight.  Showing her tits to the world.  Nice, though.  Looking especially well endowed.  Could have some of that later.  We haven't done it for a while.  Unsurprising, in the circumstances.  Nothing to stop me though.  I can handle two.  Proud to have her tonight.  That bloke coming from the gents.  He's looking at her cleavage.  Difficult not to.  Have to avert the eyes.  I'm licensed to look, of course.  Summer weather soon.  Girls on the street.  March now.  March, April.  April.  April May!  Ha, ha!  If only they knew!  That would shake the bastards up.  Manny's talking to Michael.  Is he gay?  Must be.  Fucking bender.  Two of them.  Gives you the creeps.  I'm tolerant, of course.  Live and let live.  You'd never catch me saying anything out of turn.  Got to be politically correct.  No other way.  Not like the Tories.  All hypocrites.  Half of them are raving queers, but would never admit it.  Not like Manny.  Always been open.  Never any trauma over coming out.  Admire him for that.  Not sure I could do it.  What would it be like?  Hard to imagine.  Me being, so to speak, a red-blooded male.  Not very good at that macho stuff.  But good enough for Denise.  She's never complained.  And with her experience.  Still amazed that she took up with me.  Lucky bastard, I am.  Some would say.  Not a bad looker, Denise.  Flattered by the dim light, of course.  Getting on a bit now.  Thirty-four next birthday.  What's she thinking about?  Women more bothered by their age than men.  Getting closer to the menopause.  Men like that fertility thing.  All to do with genes.  Ah, coffee.  Got to get back into the conversation.  Talk to Denise.

You seem very thoughtful. 

You know I like to let you men do all the talking.  I just sit here looking decorative. 

Absolutely!  Bitch!

And very good at it you are too.

Put her in her place.  I love that smile of hers.  Wonder if she'll want to do it tonight.  Demurely sipping her coffee.  Looking the innocent.  I feel great now.  I can get it whenever I want.

*    *    *

It had been three days since Manny had finished reading Duncan's diary.  He was now certain that his former lover had intended him to find the work, cunningly concealed on the shelf behind the old family menorah.  The diary's conclusion, although not entirely unanticipated, nevertheless had the effect of a serpent's sting.  The shock had been succeeded, in rapid succession, by pain, terror, and numbness.  He knew he had to deal rationally with the awful knowledge.  But it was so easy to do nothing, to seek refuge in mere hope.  He felt an overriding need to confide in somebody.  

Coffee all round, then?  When I can attract Pino's attention.

Brave face.  Keeping it up remarkably well.  Spirit of the chosen race.  Martin hasn't noticed anything.  Denise, maybe.  Woman's power of perception.  Could I tell her?  My fateful secret.