Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan Read Free Book Online Page A

articles in ?Quis? had I been so pleased with myself. There was little I could not talk about. I could give my ignorance on any matter a certain shine. My voice was Tony’s. I spoke like a master of a college, the chairman of a government committee of inquiry, a country squire. Join MI5? I was ready to lead it. It was no surprise then, after I had been asked to leave the room and called back five minutes later, to hear Mr Tapp tell me he had decided to offer me a job. What else could he do?
    For several seconds I didn’t take in what he was saying. And when I did, I thought he was teasing or testing me. I was to fill the post of junior assistant officer. I already knew that in Civil Service rankings this was the lowest of the low. My principal duties would be in filing, indexing and related library work. With hard work and in time, I might rise to assistant officer. I didn’t allow my expression to betray what I suddenly understood – that I’d made a terrible mistake, or Tony had. Or that this really was the punishment he had devised for me. I was not being recruited as an ‘officer’. Not a spy then, no frontline work. Pretending to be pleased, I enquired tentatively, and it was confirmed by Joan as a routine fact of life: men and women had separate career tracks and only men became officers. Of course, of course, I said. Of course I knew that. I was the clever young woman who knew everything. I was too proud to let them see how misinformed I had been or how put out I was. I heard myself accept with enthusiasm. Marvellous!Thank you! I was given a start date. Can’t wait! We stood and Mr Tapp shook my hand and drifted away. As Joan walked me down to the entrance, she explained that his offer was subject to the usual vetting procedures. If I was accepted, I would be working over in Curzon Street. I would be obliged to sign the Official Secrets Act and be bound by its strict provisions. Of course, I kept saying. Marvellous. Thank you.
    I left the building in a disturbed and dark state of mind. Even before I said goodbye to Joan I’d decided I didn’t want the job. It was an insult, a lowly secretarial position at two-thirds the usual rate. With tips I could have earned double as a waitress. They could keep their job. I’d write them a note. However disappointing, that at least seemed clear. I felt emptied out, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing or where I should go. My money was running out for my Cambridge room. No choice then but to go back to my parents, become a daughter again, a child, and face the Bishop’s indifference and my mother’s organising zeal. Worse though than that prospect was this sudden fit of lover’s grief. Impersonating Tony for an hour and raiding memories of our summer for my own use had brought the affair to life in my thoughts. I had talked myself into understanding the full measure of my loss. It was as though we’d been having a long conversation and he’d abruptly turned away, leaving me with an overpowering sense of his absence. I missed him and yearned for him, and knew I’d never get him back.
    Desolate, I went slowly along Great Marlborough Street. The job and Tony were twin aspects of one thing, a summer’s sentimental education, and it had disintegrated around me in forty-eight hours. He was back with his wife and his college, and I had nothing. No love, no job. Only the chill of loneliness. And the sorrow was compounded by the memory of the way he’d turned on me. So unfair! I glanced across the road and by a nasty coincidence found myself approaching the mock Tudor facade of Liberty’s, where Tony had bought the blouse.
    Trying not to feel crushed, I quickly turned down Carnaby Street and picked my way through the crowds. Whining guitar music and the scent of patchouli from a basement shop made me think of my sister and all the trouble at home. Ranks of ‘psychedelic’ shirts and Sergeant Pepper-ish tasselled military suits hung on long racks on the