Territorial Rights by Muriel Spark Read Free Book Online Page B

man, one vote.’
    ‘You mean one man, one woman,’ he said.
    ‘Yes, that’s what I said.’
    ‘No, you said one man, one vote.’
    ‘Nothing of the sort. What has the vote got to do with it? You must have misheard.’
    ‘All right. Now, if you don’t mind my asking, Mrs Leaver, what did you marry him for in the first place? Do you recall? Was it infatuation, love, or let’s say security if he has a house and money, or a mixture of factors. …’
    She looked alert when he said, ‘house and money’, as if some suspicion held her. She leaned forward and said to him with some earnestness, ‘I’ve often thought over why I married my husband. I have concluded that I married for marriage in general, but more specifically for my wedding day, the event, the white dress, the hymns and the flowers, the picture in the papers. However, that doesn’t concern you.’
    ‘Your picture in the papers,’ he said.
    ‘I am not a criminal,’ said Anthea as if forcing him to mean that she was.
    ‘Good gracious, no. Has he suggested a parting?’
    ‘No, oh, no. He’s too comfortable with me.’
    Mr B. made some notes on the two latest of the small folded cards and stood them in position for the boat-race.
    ‘Venice!’ she said. ‘It’s an insult taking another person to Venice, and never me. We had our honeymoon on the Isle of Wight, but that was back in the humble days. Now it’s Venice. And my son is in Paris at the university studying art history. Everyone abroad, except me. No wonder people ask me, where is my sense of humour?’
    Mr B. picked up another card. ‘How many children?’
    ‘Only one. A son. I want to keep him out of it. He doesn’t count. Don’t make any card for him, please.’
    ‘Well, his name and age. It’s only that. ….’
    She shouted, ‘My son doesn’t exist as far as you’re concerned. He’s out of it, right out of it. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.’
    ‘Well, now, the minimum preliminary costs. … Let me see. …’ Mr B. shifted the cards, re-reading each one carefully. ‘Only an approximation, of course, because we may have to have other meetings, Mrs Leaver, after the data is processed. It has to be processed. The reason for these separate cards is, let me tell you, for your own protection. They are so distributed in our processing system as to defeat any attempt to steal the said information. Nobody would know where to look. The data are in several places at once.—Something like ourselves, if I may say so.’ He laughed on top of his smile, then added, ‘Only we, very few of us, would know the complete picture, you can rest assured of that.’
    ‘The price?’ Anthea said. ‘If it runs to hundreds and thousands, I’m afraid—’
    ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Mr B. ‘Above all, avoid being afraid.’
    Anthea fumbled in her bag and made visible the tip of a leather-encased cheque-book.
    ‘No, no,’ said Mr B. His hand came out across the desk to arrest her action. ‘We don’t do business like that,’ he said.
    ‘Anything I can possibly afford,’ she said. ‘I only want to know. It’s worth any price I can possibly pay.’
    ‘Mrs Leaver,’ he said, ‘each case is different from another.’ He looked at his little armada of cards. ‘I have decided,’ he said, ‘that your case is different. It is utterly unique. First let us get some results for you and then we can see what we can afford to pay, shall we? Perhaps we won’t have anything to pay.’ He gave a smile on top of his fixed one. ‘You’re a very charming person, Mrs Leaver. I hope that money will not come into our relationship at least, not to any appreciable extent.’
    He then coped, in comfortable words, with her confused amazement and got up to usher her out.
    ‘We’ll be in touch with you as soon as we have processed the cards. We may even have something concrete,’ he said as she left the office. ‘But if you need counsel at any time be sure to refer to me, Mr B. of Global-Equip