The Forgotten Affairs of Youth by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

happy
,
and this is all that I want in life. Just this.
The realisation surprised her—even shocked her. She never would have imagined that she might have such a simple ambition. She had always wanted to make her mark in philosophy, to contribute to the wider world in some way. She never imagined that she would want only to be with a man, to live a day-to-day life with him. She knew that for many people this was their greatest ambition: to have a partner and a child, to live the domestic life, but she had never thought it would be enough for her. Yet it was.
    They went through for the beginning of the concert, finding their seats in the third row, behind a man and woman whom Isabel had seen at concerts before but whose names she had never known. The other couple half turned and smiled at them, and then the man whispered to Isabel, “Richard says this is going to be excellent.”
    Isabel had no idea who Richard was. “Good,” she whispered back. “How is he?”
    The man shook his head slightly. “He’s doing his best, poor man. It can’t be easy, though.”
    “No,” said Isabel. “It can’t.”
    The woman now turned to her. Lowering her voice, she said, “It’s not his fault. Categorically not.”
    The musicians entered, and the puzzling conversation came to an end. Jamie glanced at Isabel and mouthed a word of reproach:
Bad!
She lowered her eyes to the programme; she had not been mischievous; she had been polite.
    The concert began. She looked up at the ceiling and let the music flow over her. She was thinking of what Jane had said to her at lunch that day. Her story had not been all that exceptional—there must be numerous people in her position—but it had been told in a way that had engaged Isabel from the start. Now, as she listened to the tones of the cello, she imagined the sadness that such a story entailed. Our tenancy of this world is brief: we come from nothing and go into nothing. In that brief moment that is our life, how disappointing it must be not to know who you are.
    In the interval, she said to Jamie, “I don’t want to go back into the bar. Can’t we sit here together?”
    He looked at her with concern. “That’s fine. Are you feeling all right?”
    She reassured him that she was fine, but wanted just to be with him.
    Jamie commented on what they had heard. “That cellist, Peter Gregson, plays wonderfully. He was at the Edinburgh Academy, you know, when I was teaching there. We knew that he would do great things. I love his playing.”
    “We don’t always expect people we know to do anything great, do we? Fame is something that happens to somebody else.”
    He slipped his hand into hers. “You’ll do great things, Isabel. Charlie, too.”
    She returned the pressure of his hand. His skin was so smooth, so flawless—and he had given that to his son too. “Of course Charlie will. I’ve never doubted it. The only question is what field will he excel in—which Nobel Prize he’ll win.”
    Jamie knew. “Medicine or peace,” he said. “The two best things you can do. Heal people. Stop them fighting.”
    Isabel wanted to tell him about her day. “You know Cat arranged for me to have lunch with somebody she met? An Australian philosopher.”
    Jamie nodded. “You mentioned it. How did it go?”
    “She told me her story.”
    Jamie gazed at her expectantly. “Oh yes? Anything interesting?”
    “Well, yes. Very. It was—”
    Jamie took hold of Isabel’s wrist. “Hold on. Is this leading to—”
    “I can’t ignore her.”
    He sighed. “Isabel—” He broke off. “All right. Carry on. You can’t help yourself, can you? So you may as well carry on.”
    She looked injured, and he apologised. “I’m sorry. I know that you do this out of a sense of duty. And I suppose that I’m secretly rather proud of you and everything you do. I wouldn’t want you to be selfish. It’s just that …”
    “This is nothing risky. It really isn’t.”
    Jamie was about to say more, but the