The High Places by Fiona McFarlane Read Free Book Online Page B

hamburger were impossible in company; he abandoned them.
    â€˜Take me to the track, then,’ Kath said. ‘We’ll go on a date.’
    â€˜You never wanted to go on dates before,’ Henry said.
    â€˜You never won the lottery before,’ Kath said, laughing, and two men at the counter looked over at her. They laughed too, and she seemed to absorb their approval and turn it back on them, brighter. The men watched as she put her hand on Henry’s arm. ‘You’re not a married man yet.’
    Well, that was true, certainly. Kath smiled from her long immaculate face.
    â€˜I guess I’ve missed you,’ she said.
    They stood together and went out into the street.
    The city was scrubbed and pale after the summer, and the buildings rose from the street with a mineral sheen. There was a leisurely rush on the pavements. Henry was aware, as he hadn’t been in some time, of the anxious thrill of Friday evening. He bought a copy of the Daily Mail .
    â€˜I usually walk to Wenty,’ he said.
    â€˜All that way?’ Kath showed him her heeled foot.
    Henry liked the authority of hailing a taxi with a girl on his arm, and of getting into the back of it with her. Kath was wearing a short blue coat which drew attention to the bareness of her immoderate legs; Henry admired them, but with disapproval, as she stepped out of the taxi. Ellie was pretty in such a sensible way, but Kath required adjustments. She stood out on his arm. He and Ellie, he thought, stood out together. Ellie would be at her class by now. And here he was, at the dogs with Kath. Passing through the gates with this long girl at his side, Henry felt as if something had fallen over him: a soft cloak, maybe, made of silky stuff, invisible, that made him hot with knowledge and pride.
    â€˜This feels like the Easter Show,’ Kath said, pressing him forward, lifting her face to the lights and the noise. ‘How do we make a bet?’
    â€˜Over there,’ Henry said, and he pointed to the bookmakers, who stood under their umbrellas above the crowd, shouting, with their heavy bags strung around their necks. ‘You leave that to me.’
    â€˜No,’ Kath said. ‘I want to know everything.’
    Henry found it gratifying to teach her. She frowned at the racing form in the Mail , tracing one polished finger over the names of the dogs, creasing her forehead and saying things like ‘I like Young Lightning. He’s got a good feel to him.’ She paid no attention to all the other information on the form, so he ignored it too. Kath took a small gold pen from her handbag and as she bent to mark the dogs she liked the names of, Henry saw the darkening roots of her copper hair.
    She held his hand and let him lead her to the bookies, and once there she scolded him for wanting to bet so little on each race. ‘For a man who talks big, you have no ambition,’ she said.
    Henry was enjoying himself. He felt as if he’d been drinking; he felt the warmth of the crowd, of Kath’s body against his, of having money to spend. If Kath liked Young Lightning, he would put five pounds on Young Lightning to win. Henry knew he would lose. And Ellie, right now, was in a room on the northern side of the harbour, among all those pink Madonnas, those green Apollos. She would never like it here with the noisy dogs. She would ask the wrong questions, and she was sentimental: she would worry about the treatment of the greyhounds. Kath sat beside him on the benches, tense in her blue coat, and watched every race. Young Lightning fell in the sixth race, but Kath only laughed; Henry couldn’t care about his five pounds. This time last night, he and Ellie had been on William Street, at the hotel.
    Kath turned to him and smiled. ‘These dogs love to run,’ she said. It was the right thing to say, and he kissed her mouth. The kiss was friendly and without conviction. She squeezed his knee with her left