Breaking Cover

12

By the time Peggy got home from work, she was starving. After tossing and turning the night before, she’d skipped breakfast in a rush. Then she’d had a quick lunch with her new friend Jasminder Kapoor, but it had only been a salad and a very small one at that, and because the conversation had been so interesting, Peggy had barely picked at it.

With food on her mind and thinking about what was in the fridge, she opened the door to the flat she shared with Tim in Muswell Hill. She found him in their little kitchen, already preparing supper. Her heart sank. Lately Tim had taken to cooking elaborate vegetarian meals, which were doubtless healthy but left Peggy yearning for the simple joys of a grilled pork chop or a nice bit of steak.

Tonight was no exception. As she lifted the lid of the casserole, her nose was assailed by the strong aroma of stewing cabbage; inspecting the dish, she could also see carrots, onions and a sludgy mass she guessed was aubergine.

‘Put the lid back,’ Tim said from the sink. ‘You’re letting all the steam escape.’

‘Smells delicious,’ she lied.

‘I found the recipe online,’ he said proudly, and Peggy thought, Of course you did.

While Tim finished preparing his vegetarian masterpiece, Peggy suddenly remembered she had a guest coming in an hour. To her surprise, Jasminder had rather shyly explained that she’d been approached about a Government post and had decided to apply, but had confessed bafflement about how to deal with the endless paperwork required in the application process. Peggy could well imagine the daunting pile of forms and explanatory leaflets, so she’d been happy to volunteer to help steer Jasminder through the process – inviting her to bring the forms to the flat this evening.

She couldn’t do much about the smell of cabbage but she could tidy up a bit so she scooted around the sitting room, stacking the magazines and plumping up the cushions on the sofa. She had just finished when Tim called her in to the kitchen for supper.

They sat at the small table where they ate all their meals. Peggy looked without enthusiasm at the vegetable stew in the soup bowl in front of her. There was half a baguette to go with it, though she knew it was the one she had bought two days ago and it should really be turned into breadcrumbs. She wanted to open a bottle of wine, but lately Tim had gone teetotal and it seemed a waste just for her.

‘So how was your day?’ she asked as they started to eat.

‘The usual,’ he said sourly. ‘I taught the Metaphysicals while the students all looked at their iPhones. I’d say it went right over their heads, since all their heads were down.’ He laughed hollowly.

Peggy tried to smile. ‘Some of them must be interested. I mean, they didn’t come to King’s just to text their mates.’

‘You’d be surprised.’ He fiddled with a chunk of dry baguette. ‘Not that I can blame them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘In this day and age the Metaphysical Poets seem pretty irrelevant to most people. That’s supposing they’ve heard of them in the first place.’

‘I don’t know about that—’

‘Of course you do. I’m starting to realise how inconsequential it all is.’

‘What is?’

‘I teach people about poems they would never read by choice, written by people they’ve never heard of. That’s what’s inconsequential.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She’d never heard him be quite so dismissive about his own line of work before. ‘Of course they’ve heard of them and they’re reading them by choice, or they wouldn’t be in your class to begin with.’

‘They just want a degree – a piece of paper that will get them a job.’

‘I can’t believe none of your students is interested. You’ve just had a bad day. And you’ve got your own work to be getting on with.’ She had put her spoon down now.

He shook his head, making it clear she didn’t understand. ‘I could write the world’s greatest monograph on John Donne and it wouldn’t change one thing anywhere. Not one thing.’

‘Why does it have to change anything? Why can’t you be satisfied with writing something new and original that people will enjoy, and maybe learn from?’

He looked at her scornfully then turned back to his stew. Gloom descended on the table. Then she remembered her visitor.

‘I’ve got someone coming over.’

‘What, now?’ he asked, looking alarmed.

‘In a little while. Don’t worry – you haven’t got to entertain them. You can stay in your study.’

‘Who is it?’ he asked accusingly.

She didn’t look at him. ‘Jasminder Kapoor. The woman who gave the lecture I went to a few weeks ago.’

‘What, here? You must be joking. She’s coming to socialise with us?’

‘It isn’t socialising. She wants some help from me. She’s decided to apply for a job with the Civil Service – they approached her, believe it or not – and she’s finding the forms a bit of a nightmare. I offered to help her fill them in.’

‘Why on earth did you do that?’

‘Because she asked me if I would. How could I say no? Besides, she’s very nice, Tim. You’d like her if you gave her half a chance. She’s not what you think.’

Ignoring this, he asked, ‘Does she know who you work for?’

‘No – I just said I was a civil servant at the MOD. But I think she may have guessed. No flies on her.’

‘And that doesn’t bother her?’ he demanded.

‘It doesn’t seem to,’ said Peggy, trying to stay calm. She didn’t like rows, especially with Tim. They never used to have them. She’d always thought he was proud of what she did for a living. He knew she couldn’t talk about the details of it, but previously he’d seemed entirely supportive. She couldn’t help asking, ‘Does it bother you?’ She found her voice wobbling slightly.

He didn’t answer, but only shook his head wearily. Then he said, ‘If Kapoor’s applying for a Government job she’s an even greater phony than I thought. Some radical,’ he added sarcastically. He gave Peggy an angry look. ‘Don’t expect me to play host to her.’

‘I don’t,’ Peggy protested. ‘I told you – you can stay in your study. You don’t even have to say hello.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ He seemed unaccountably furious. ‘In fact, you can have the place to yourselves.’

He stood up suddenly and left the room. Peggy sat at the table, stunned, wondering what she had done to trigger this reaction. Was it really so awful to be helping Jasminder? Turning, she saw through the open door that Tim had his coat on. Without saying goodbye, he left the flat.

Peggy sighed, and looked at her watch. Jasminder would be here any minute. She’d better make coffee. As she stood up to clear the table, she realised her hands were shaking. And she noticed that Tim hadn’t finished his stew.