Ashford’s Version
Harring and I are in the club changing rooms after a fierce squash match.
“So, what present shall I give you, this year?” He asks me.
“Present?”
“Your birthday is next week, Parker!”
“You always remember!”
“Your birthday falls between late July and early August, in the Grand Prix summer break, it’s impossible to forget about it. If you ask me what day it is, I don’t know exactly, but, roughly, I would say it’s next week.”
“I appreciate it.” I accept Haz with his virtues and, above all, his flaws.
“Okay then, what will it be? A box of limited edition Montecristo Sublimes? Every drag is like a breath of Cuba.”
“Cigars? I’m not Winston Churchill!”
“Then a Cuban babe, maybe?”
“A new golf set, if you really care,” I suggest.
“All right, I’ll keep the Montecristos for myself. And also the Cuban babe.”
“Enjoy them to my health.” I know he will. Haz risks his life every time he gets in his single seater, so he indulges in anything he wants in life.
“Speaking of your birthday, what’s this year’s plan? Will I have to put up with the Canterbury Choir throughout the evening again while your mother drags you around to receive the guests’ best wishes?”
“I have great news! My mother had a nervous breakdown after Jemma’s fashion show. She packed her bags and went to Bath. No bummer in tails, this year.”
“Hell, yeah! You know what, then? Let’s get a private flight and have a party in Marbella!” Offers my friend.
“Aren’t your parents in your villa in Marbella?”
Harring changes his plans. “Beer in a West End pub?”
“Now that’s getting things into perspective.”
“Mine is a difficult life.”
“Not as difficult as mine,” I point out.
“Yup, I don’t envy you.”
“You know, it started off quite dramatically with Jemma. That mess about the money and our marriage, then living with a stranger, our continuous fights, not to mention the moment in which that arsehole Willoughby tried to interfere. Anyway, Jemma is much quieter lately. She no longer makes a scene out of nothing, she’s stopped complaining about every single thing and she’s also started studying spontaneously.”
“Without Delphina around, everything suddenly becomes way easier.”
“My mother certainly didn’t help at all. Oh, Jemma’s parents are now at Denby, too: Vance and Carly. He is a dj and she’s an animal therapist. They’re quite peculiar, seventies style hippies, but they’re nice and loving people. They smoke a lot of marijuana. You would like them.”
“You bet I would! And how long must your marriage last?”
“A year or so, that’s what the solicitor told us.”
“Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this since the fashion show. Jemma’s body is… quite remarkable. Nice legs, nice boobs. I didn’t see her butt, but two out of three seem enough to me. Never thought of having a shag with her?”
“Haz! How can you even think about such a thing?”
“You’ve had uglier ones!” He objects.
“That’s not the point! Does she have a nice body? Who cares! There are millions of beautiful women. After the hell she put me through with her bad temper, I could never even consider the idea!”
“Calm down, for fuck’s sake. My question is more than normal: you’re a man, she’s a woman, and you live in the same house…”
“Ending up in bed would be automatic for you, wouldn’t it?”
“Um, yes…? I don’t know, maybe! Are you asking me if I’d shag your wife? What kind of question is that!”
“This conversation doesn’t make any sense,” I say, sharply.
Nice legs, nice boobs… how could he even consider it?