The Family Men by Catherine Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

to the hotel elevator, not much bigger than the fitting rooms at the formal-wear hire shop, barely recognising himself in the mirror beside his brother, the two of them like male fashion models side by side parading evening attire, or two secret agents on the make, Harry wearing a black dinner jacket with satin lapel facings and black dress slacks with matching satin stripes down the leg, the light too dim to pick up the subtle differences in fabric quality and design that marked Matt’s suit as his own and Harry’s as a loaner, off the rack.
    He felt like a right idiot at the fitting, standing there as Michelle pinned and tugged and pulled at his jacket. “You’ve got a good strong frame,” she said as she ran her hands across his chest, smiling as though it was an innocent gesture, a professional sizing up of his bearing in the suit. It was the kind of game he was used to from drunk girls at the pub, drunk silly girls who’d get a kick out of sipping from his glass, an affected intimacy he’d fast forget but that they’d likely brag about all weekend.
    This was yet another way in which he and his brother were different, Matt loving the limelight, a publicity lush, whereas he eschewed it at all costs – the aversion an exotic lure, irresistible to the sports media who then preyed on his discomfort, stalking him with the same pleasure as sharks mobilised by the scent of blood.
    As he spun around his mum said he looked dashing in his get-up, quite the dapper gentleman, but he didn’t care about that. He just wanted to get out of there before he was recognised. It was only a matter of time before some passer-by cottoned on. And why wouldn’t they? The shop was an arcade of full-length mirrors, with huge windows facing onto the street. He was as good as asking to be seen.
    In the car on the way home Diana hassled him again about his manners. “You could have been nicer to Michelle. She is pretty enough. What would have been the harm inviting her out for a drink? How are you going to meet anyone decent with your attitude? Look at your brother. He’s always friendly. He didn’t wait for Kate to make the first move. You’re so stiff. What did I do to make you so uncomfortable around women?”
    â€œI’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t need you choosing my girlfriends for me.”
    â€œWhat does it cost you to be more outgoing?”
    â€œI thought you hated groupies.”
    â€œShe is a nice girl.”
    â€œShe is a groupie.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. I went to school with her mother.”
    It was the kind of conversation they had when his mother was worried about him, when she was worried but she didn’t want to say, like being concerned about him attending Sportsman’s Night but not wanting to keep going on about it, choosing instead to badger him with questions until he told her something she wanted to hear. Something along the lines of how happy he was, or how even though he was single he was solidly heterosexual and had lots of female friends. Most of the time he humoured her, knew it was her clumsy affectionate way. That day, however, he wasn’t in the mood. “What’s her family got to do with anything?” he barked. “It doesn’t mean she’s not a gold-digger.”
    â€œAnd it doesn’t mean you can speak to me like that. Take it down a notch, hotshot. You’re not the only one around here with any feelings.”
    Harry pictured himself pushing his mother off a cliff, the fantasy taking him further inside himself, a quietness that she interpreted as hurt feelings, which in turn made her feel guilty and then resentful and then angry, all in the blink of an eye so that out of nowhere she was screaming at him (“Why do you have to make everything so difficult? I’m only thinking of your welfare”) while he was envisioning her remains on the jagged rock below, her bright red