A Conspiracy of Friends by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online

photographer. It was not an ideal job from her point of view, but then, as her mother pointed out, “What job is ideal? Name one.”
    Caroline’s mother, Frances, was not slow to give her daughter advice and had recently spoken to her about men, a subject on which many women feel they have something to say to theirdaughters; while many daughters feel that this is exactly the subject on which their mothers’ views are likely to be unhelpful and outdated. Men had changed dramatically—anybody could tell that—and women too, with the result that the insights a mother might be expected to have acquired over the years were now of dubious value and relevance; or so Caroline had thought as she listened to her mother issuing a series of warnings in the parental kitchen in Cheltenham.
    “That young man, James,” Frances said. “The one you brought down here for the weekend. He’s a case in point.”
    “Mummy, James and I are not—”
    “Oh, I know that,” said her mother. “And one couldn’t have expected any other outcome, dear, could one?”
    Caroline looked out of the window. Her parents’ house was on the edge of the town and the kitchen looked directly onto a field in which horses were grazing. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said quietly.
    Frances looked at her pityingly. “Oh come on, dear. No need to beat about the bush. James was a charming young man …”
    “Yes. And he and I were really good friends.”
    “Which is exactly my point. Men like that—artistic men—are not good husband material. They’re just not interested, you see. I know it’s a pity because they can be quite charming. James played the piano beautifully, didn’t he? But they are not the type to be interested in marriage, if you see what I mean. And sometimes it takes a woman a long time to admit that to herself.”
    Caroline said nothing.
    “I knew a man like that,” Frances continued. “He was a cousin of Betty Pargeter’s. Remember Betty? Anyway, she had this cousin called Harold, if I remember correctly. And we all thought that he was just perfect. He was terribly handsome, even for those days.”
    Caroline frowned. “Even for those days? Did men look different in your day?”
    “They can pay more attention to their grooming today,” said her mother. “When I was your age, men were much less—how should I put it?—individual. And they all wore such dull clothing. Yes, men look rather different now, I can tell you.”
    “I don’t see what this has got to do with James,” said Caroline.
    “It’s just an observation, dear. If you don’t want me to make any observations, then I’m quite happy to sit here in silence.”
    Caroline relented. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
    “Thank you. Well, as I was saying, you have to remind yourself that those men are a waste of time—from the woman’s point of view. What you have to do is find a man who
needs
you. No, don’t smile. I don’t mean it in any crude sense. I mean needs you in a practical sense. He has to need you to look after him, to make him comfortable, to give him a home.”
    Caroline shrugged. “I know all that. I really do.”
    Frances looked at her sharply. “Do you? I wonder.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I mean that your generation of young women have lost the place when it comes to men. You’ve befriended men. You treat men in the same way as you treat your girlfriends. And what happens then? Men are quite happy to think of themselves as one of your friends, and not as anything else. The result? Men don’t see the point of settling down with one particular woman because they have all these women friends. They’ve stopped treating women as something special—they’re just the same as their other friends. Nothing special.”
    Caroline stared at her mother. Did she really think that? She sighed.
    “It’s no good sighing,” said her mother. “Sighing doesn’t change the truth.”
    Caroline tried to explain. “I really