The Novel Habits of Happiness by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online

wear ethnic clothing, on this occasion an embroidered Indian blouse and an elaborate brass necklace, also Indian.
    “Eddie said you were in the delicatessen the other day,” Isabel remarked. “He said you were hoping to see me.”
    Sam took a sip of her wine. “Yes, I did—or rather, do. I do want to see you.”
    Isabel smiled. “Well, here I am.”
    Sam put down her glass, fingering the stem as she did so. “You know that you have a reputation for helping people.”
    Isabel blushed. “I don’t do any more than most people do.”
    Sam held up a hand. “But you do. I know that you’re modest about it.”
    There was an awkward silence. Isabel looked at Jamie, who met her gaze briefly, and then looked down at the floor. She knew that he was concerned about her readiness to help people in all sorts of difficulties. “You can’t do everything,” he had said to her. “You can’t take on the troubles of the whole world.” She knew that he was right, but it had always been hard for her to turn down a direct appeal, especially from somebody she knew. Certainly, if Sam were in some sort of difficulty, Isabel would find it almost impossible to say no to her.
    “Are you in trouble?” Isabel asked.
    Sam laughed. “No, not me. My life is too uneventful for trouble—or for real trouble. No, not me, but…”
    “Somebody you know?”
    Sam nodded. “Not trouble as such, but…well, troubled. There’s a difference.”
    Isabel agreed. “Of course.”
    “There’s a woman downstairs in my building, in the ground-floor flat,” Sam continued. “She moved in about six months ago. Her husband’s a pipe major in the Army. They no longer live together, and I’ve only met him briefly, when he’s been round to pick up their son. But I’ve got to know her reasonably well.”
    Isabel was busy avoiding Jamie’s eye. He looked at her, glanced away and then looked at her again.
    “Her name is Kirsten. The boy’s called Harry,” Sam continued. “He’s six. A rather serious-looking little boy. I see her taking him off to South Morningside School every morning if I look out of my window at the right time. The two of them walk off, hand in hand.” She paused. “Your wee Charlie hasn’t started yet, has he?”
    “At nursery. Two days a week.”
    Sam nodded. “Mine are growing up so fast. Fiona’s fourteen now, you know, and Nicholas is twelve, and is shooting up like a bean-pole.”
    Isabel thought of Charlie, upstairs with his new stuffed meerkat on his pillow. He had been a baby just a few months ago, it seemed, and she had thought it would never end.
I
thought that love would last for ever. I was wrong;
that line of Auden’s that contained a truth about everything, not just love. And we had to act as if things were not going to end, because if we did not, then we would do so little in life. People still planted oak trees and created gardens, which they might not do with quite the same enthusiasm, or would not do at all, if they stopped to think of the brevity of life.
    “I feel rather sorry for her. I know that being a single parent is pretty common these days, but it can’t be much easier than it’s ever been. In other words, it’s tough.”
    “Yes,” said Isabel. “I can just imagine. It’s twice as tough. I don’t know if I’d be able to cope.”
    Sam thought that Isabel would manage very well. “You might surprise yourself, you know.” She paused. “She dropped in the other morning after she had taken him to school. She works part-time, three days a week, I think, as some sort of receptionist—while he’s at school.”
    Isabel nodded. “And?”
    “And she told me the most extraordinary story. Well, I don’t know if everybody would find it extraordinary, but I did. Apparently the boy is convinced that he’s had another life. He’s adamant about it, and talks about it every day, she said. He says that he had another mother—another family—he’s matter-of-fact about it, but she’s