Black Chalk

‘Oh, don’t worry, Chad,’ said David. ‘Let them have their idle fun. As Oscar Wilde said, the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.’

Jack sighed, slipping out of his role. ‘You do know you’re not Oscar fucking Wilde, don’t you?’ he said.

David gave Jack a pitying smile. ‘I believe that I said, as Oscar Wilde said. And I’m almost certain that quotation is not the same as transubstantiation.’ He appeared pleased with the line and turned his attention to Tallest. While he did so, Jolyon threatened Jack with his eyes. Jack mouthed an apology.

‘Meanwhile, you are a new member of the club, I believe,’ said David to Tallest. ‘Although I feel I’ve seen you around on other occasions. Tell me, how did you gain access to this cult? Is there space for part-time members? Please do tell, I’d pay good money to know . . .’ he paused, before concluding triumphantly ‘. . . if such a thing as good money has ever existed.’

Now Tallest paused. He appeared to be measuring silence against a response. And then he said simply, ‘Hello, David, I’m Tom.’

‘A man of few words, Tom,’ said David, and then he turned to address the whole of the table. ‘Fair enough. And maybe that is my failing and Tom’s appeal. But meanwhile there appear to be members missing. Whatever happened to Sleepy and Dopey? I thought Dopey had been released from hospital and was hobbling happily round.’

David’s words were met with shock and blinking disbelief.

‘So Mark is Sleepy, right?’ said Jack, laughing at the severity of David’s gaffe. David beamed. ‘Very good. And obviously, from the hospital and hobbling, Emilia is –’

‘Jeez, man,’ said Chad furiously. ‘Did I really just hear you call Emilia Dopey? What the heck? Do you ever wonder why people stay away from you up there on your stool all night long?’

David threw his hands to his head in panic. ‘Oh, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

.’

Chad was turning red. ‘Do you have any idea just how rude that is? She’s lucky to be alive. What makes you think you can just sit there in front of Jolyon calling his girlfriend stupid?’ he shouted.

‘Oh dear, oh no,’ said David. ‘Oh, Jolyon, please do forgive me. I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry, I get so carried away sometimes.’ David removed his glasses and started to thump his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Such . . . an idiot . . . such . . . a stupid . . . idiot . . .’

Jolyon reached over and touched David on the shoulder. ‘David, it’s all right. David, that’s enough now.’ David stopped thumping himself, took a deep breath and rubbed at his moist eyes. ‘Look at me, David,’ said Jolyon, ‘it’s OK. It was only a joke, a harmless joke.’

‘I don’t think your girlfriend’s a dimwit, Jolyon, I promise I don’t. I mean, in this place –’ David gestured around him – ‘who is? No one, we’re the –’

‘David, stop,’ said Jolyon. ‘You don’t need to explain.’ Jolyon squeezed David’s shoulder and, when David had nearly composed himself, patted him on the back. ‘Good man,’ he said. ‘No harm done.’ Jolyon took a drag of his cigarette. ‘In any case, Emilia’s not my girlfriend any more,’ he said.

‘She’s not what?’ said Chad, shocked.

‘It’s over,’ said Jolyon. ‘I went to see her and . . . Look, there are no hard feelings, she doesn’t blame anyone for what happened. It was amicable enough. She just needs some time to herself, that’s all.’

‘Jolyon . . .’

‘There’s nothing to talk about, Chad.’

‘Are you OK?’

‘Of course,’ said Jolyon, and he did appear to be in good spirits, it was true. ‘But now the topic is closed, all right?’

So everyone became quiet because Jolyon had spoken. And after the necessary silence seemed to have lapsed, they all looked to Jack to lighten the mood, Jack the expert at shifting the gears of conversation. But Jack was making himself small and biting his nails, his imagination playing and replaying the scene to come.

L(iii) They left Pitt to buy cava and crème de cassis to make cheap Kir Royales. Kir Rochdales, Jack called them, his humour awakening in occasional bursts.

Jack walked alongside David, they were both studying history and they argued about the Glorious Revolution. Jolyon and Tallest walked behind them, listening in on their conversation to ensure that Jack said nothing untoward.

Jack’s room was above the library, a long climb up several staircases. There was a small courtyard and a skylight for the library, raised like a wishing well. David tripped on a loose flagstone and the bottle of cava he was carrying smashed in the bag when he fell. He apologised anxiously, he said that he thought he might be a little drunk and suggested that if they were quick they could filter the drink from the bag into some sort of container. He was on his knees using his hands awkwardly to cover the holes that the broken glass had torn in the bag. The drink was draining away as if being tipped from a watering can.

Jolyon motioned to Jack and Jack helped David to his feet. ‘Don’t worry about it, David,’ said Jack. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’