The Merry Misogynist by Colin Cotterill Read Free Book Online

girls. There’ll be some ugly questions about who the fathers are.”
    Tong laughed. “Auntie, don’t you think we’ve heard all the ugly questions there are? They drained what little dignity we had left a long time ago. One more day of insults isn’t going to leave any more bruises.”
    “If you’re sure?” Daeng said. They nodded. “Thank you.”
    Siri wasn’t cut out to be a landlord. He’d started sweating long before the sun edged over the roof. It was getting hot out in the yard, but he didn’t want to interrupt himself by taking a recess. Mrs Fah brought a small fan out onto the veranda at the end of a long extension cord and set it on swing. It didn’t make any difference at all to the temperature.
    “Finally,” Siri said, “rule five, Inthanet?”
    “Yes, mon general? ”
    “Should I assume the front window is your doing?”
    “Yes, Comrade,” he smiled. “Indirectly.”
    “And should I gather that it’s a result of a brick flying over the next-door fence?”
    “A 1972 Asian Games commemorative mug,” he corrected.
    “That’s rather dangerous, don’t you think?”
    “She did wait till the children were out of the house.”
    “That’s a small mercy. But, my friend, it really is time for this feud to cease. There was a period when you and Miss Vong were very fond of each other. Talk of marriage, I seem to recall. We can’t have any of the neighbours out for revenge. Do you know what I mean? I want you to apologize to her.”
    “For what?” Inthanet asked indignantly. “Being married to someone else?”
    “For not telling her you were before you started to woo her.”
    “It slipped my mind.”
    “The fact that you have four children and nine grandchildren slipped your mind?”
    “No, just the married part. My wife left me a long time ago. Long before the kids were out of the house. I’d erased her from my mind.”
    “Right, then that’s the angle we’ll go with – amnesia. It isn’t going to be easy, I grant you, but I want peace in this neighbourhood. Got it?”
    Inthanet nodded.
    “Good, then I think that’s it.”
    “The umbrella,” Daeng reminded him.
    “Oh, yes. Perhaps someone can tell me why there’s an umbrella poking through the roof.”
    Lia, the blind Hmong’s granddaughter, sheepishly put up her hand.
    “Sir?”
    “Yes, love?”
    “I’m do it. I’m make hole in roof.”
    “Why?”
    “Grandfather tell it danger make fire in house if no hole in roof to make smoke go away. I use broomstick. Stand on chair.”
    “Well, you’re a very strong girl,” Siri said. “That was a very tough roof.”
    “Take one hour.”
    “But does your grandfather realize he shouldn’t light fires in the house?”
    “Hmong house have hole in roof.”
    “I know. But this house has a gas range and an open window. Can you explain that to him?”
    “I tell.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I put the umbrella up there in case the rains come early this year,” Inthanet explained. “Used the bucket to stop it blowing away.”
    “Right.” Siri understood. “But if I bring some new tiles, do you think you could get up there and fix the hole?”
    “No problem.”
    “Thank you.”
    “ Bo ben nyang ,” said the old puppet master.
    With a group sigh of relief, the meeting ended; it seemed to Siri that all the issues had been resolved quite amicably. The women had retired to the kitchen, where smoke from the range escaped through an open window. The smell of cooking filled the house. Siri and Inthanet were seated on the front porch, working on a second bottle of rice whisky. Crazy Rajid was still on Siri’s mind but, like him and Daeng, all the people at the house were immigrants from the provinces. The only Vientiane resident was Miss Vong next door and she was off on a one-week training programme in the north. Then something occurred to him. He called Lia over.
    “I sorry, sir,” she said.
    “It’s OK, love. It’s not about the roof.” He took her hand and smiled.