Spring by David Szalay Read Free Book Online Page A

incident. Not even of speaking to her, not even of seeing her at the launch party. ‘That’s okay,’ he says. ‘And anyway, you were right. It was a ludicrous name.’
    ‘Of course it was. The magazine failed, I hear.’
    ‘It did.’
    ‘So what are you up to now? Izzy says you’re always up to something. When she told me the magazine had failed I said, “Poor James, is he okay?” And she laughed…’
    ‘She laughed?’
    ‘She laughed, ’ Miranda says, smiling, with a secretive inclination of her head, ‘and said, “Oh don’t worry about James. He always finds something new.”’
    ‘She said that?’
    ‘And now she says you own a horse. You know my parents are members at Newbury racecourse?’
    ‘No, I didn’t know that…’
    ‘I’ve been there loads of times. You should come one day.’
    ‘I’d love to.’
    ‘What’s his name? Your horse.’
    ‘Her name. Absent Oelemberg.’
    When he says the name, she says, ‘Sorry?’
    ‘Absent Oelemberg.’
    ‘What sort of name is that?’
    He shrugs. ‘A horse’s name.’
    ‘What does it mean?’
    ‘I asked the trainer—­he said he had no idea.’
    ‘Has she won?’
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘I suppose it’s all totally fixed like you hear. How come you have a horse anyway? You didn’t used to be interested in horses, did you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘Last year,’ he says, pouring them both some wine, ‘I had a sort of tipping service.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I mean I sold tips on the Internet.’
    ‘What, horse-­racing tips?’
    ‘Yes.’
    She stares at him for a few seconds. Her eyes narrow nicely. ‘I can’t believe you were involved in something like that,’ she says. ‘And you look so nice and honest.’
    ‘Of course I do. I am nice. I am honest…’
    ‘Ha!’
    ‘It’s not dishonest,’ he protests.
    ‘Where did these tips come from? You?’
    ‘No. I employed someone.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘A pro,’ he says innocently.
    ‘A pro? And did his tips make a profit? If his tips made a profit, why did he have to be employed by you? Did they make a profit?’
    ‘Sometimes.’
    She laughs. ‘Sometimes? So much for being nice and honest!’ she says. Her eyes narrow smilingly again. ‘You really are quite louche, aren’t you?’
    ‘Not at all,’ he says, smiling also.
    ‘And then what happened?’
    ‘To the tipping service?’
    ‘Yes. Was it shut down?’
    ‘Not exactly. My tipster was arrested…’
    Her loud laugh turns Mark’s head. For the last twenty minutes, he has struggled to seem interested in what some pregnant woman is saying to him while his peripheral vision was teasingly filled with Miranda talking and laughing and hitting James playfully on the other side of the table… What they were saying—­though he wasn’t sure what it was—­seemed infinitely more interesting than what was being said to him, though he wasn’t sure what that was either. Though he is still smiling fixedly in her direction, he has no idea what the pregnant woman is talking about, and when she finally stops—­she may have asked him a question—­he just says, ‘Yes, yes,’ and then turns to James and says, ‘Did I hear you say you’re a horseman?’
    ‘No,’ James says.
    ‘Oh. I thought I heard you say you were a horseman.’
    ‘I do own a horse. Or part-­own it.’
    ‘Oh, I see.’ Mark turns to Miranda. ‘Your parents live in Newbury then?’
    ‘No,’ she says, ‘they don’t.’
    ‘Oh they don’t? I know Newbury quite well.’
    She laughs. ‘Well they don’t live there.’
    ‘Where do they live?’
    James leaves him to it and looks down the long table. At intervals there are vases of white flowers, and at the far end French windows into the garden. Most of the suits are up that end, and he sees Ted being introduced to Omar, while Mrs Staedtler looks on through an uninterested smile. Suddenly he hears Steve saying vehemently, ‘Now James was fucking loaded. I mean seriously fucking loaded.’
    He turns and