The Terrible Privacy Of Maxwell Sim by Jonathan Coe Read Free Book Online Page B

forward, her chin cradled in both hands.
    ‘Put it this way. I’m part of an organization that provides a valuable and discreet service, to an exclusive clientele.’
    ‘What sort of service?’
    ‘Well, I don’t really have a name for my job, because I don’t normally tell people what it is. But since I’m making an exception for you, let’s just say that I’m – a junior adultery facilitator.’
    A sort of wicked thrill went through me when she spoke these words. ‘Adultery facilitator?’ I said. It was exciting just to repeat the phrase.
    ‘OK,’ said Poppy, ‘I’ll explain. My employer – whose name I’m not supposed to tell anyone – has set up this agency. He’s set it up for people who are having affairs – mainly men, but not always, by any means – and want things to go smoothly and safely. Things are very difficult for the modern adulterer. Technology has made everything much more complicated. There are more and more ways of being in touch with someone, but everything leaves a trail. In the old days you might have written someone a love letter and the only witness would be the person who saw you popping it into the postbox. Nowadays you send someone a couple of text messages and the next thing you know, there they are on an itemized phone bill. You can delete as many emails from your computer as you like, but they’ll still be stored, somewhere or other, on some big mainframe in the middle of nowhere. More and more elaborate strategies are required if you don’t want to get caught out. This –’ (she patted her handbag) ‘– is just one of them.’
    ‘So how does it work?’ I asked.
    ‘It’s quite simple. First of all, I travel all over the place, to a number of different airports, I make some recordings, then I get home and compile them all into a CD. A CD which we then sell on to our clients, as part of their package. Now suppose that you’re one of these clients. (Although I have to say, you don’t look much like an adulterer.) You’re away on a business trip in the Far East. But you decide to cut the business trip short, and spend a night or two in Paris with your mistress instead. Obviously your wife mustn’t find out about it. Well, here’s a good way of putting her mind at rest. Just before you come home, you phone her from your hotel suite in Paris. Your loved one has slipped into the bathroom for a shower, so you put the CD onto the stereo system, call your wife, and what does she hear in the background while you’re talking to her?’ Opening the bag, she pressed the recorder’s ‘Play’ button, and from the internal speaker I could hear a recording of the announcement that I’d found myself listening to a few minutes earlier: ‘ Welcome to Singapore. Passengers in transit are respectfully reminded that it is forbidden to smoke anywhere inside the terminal building. We thank you for your cooperation and wish you a pleasant onward journey. ’ Poppy smiled at me, triumphant. ‘So there’s your alibi. Who’s going to think twice about where you might be calling from, after hearing that?’
    I nodded slowly, to show that I was impressed.
    ‘And people pay for this?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Poppy. ‘Big money.’ (She stretched the word ‘big’.) ‘Honestly, you’d be surprised.’
    ‘What sorts of people?’
    ‘All sorts. Unhappily married people are everywhere. But still, the fees are rather steep, so we tend to attract a certain sort of clientele in particular. Investment bankers, professional footballers, that kind of thing.’
    I was struck by the insouciance with which she was telling me all this. Titillating though I found the idea of an ‘adultery facilitator’, I also thought it rather shocking.
    ‘What about …’ I said, trying to choose my words with care, ‘what about the moral dimension?’
    ‘The what?’ said Poppy.
    ‘I just wondered if you had any qualms about it. You know … the fact that you’re helping people to cheat on other