Wilt by Tom Sharpe Read Free Book Online

it tasted like cider with wood alcohol and orange squash. Wilt looked round

    the garden. In one corner a man in a chef’s hat and a jockstrap was cooking, was burning

    sausages over a charcoal grill. In another corner a dozen people were lying in a circle

    listening to the Watergate tapes. There was a sprinkling of couples talking earnestly

    and a number of individuals standing by themselves looking supercilious and remote.

    Wilt recognised himself among them and selected the least attractive girl on the theory

    that he might just as well jump in the deep end and get it over with. He’d end up with her

    anyway.
    ‘Hi,’ he said, conscious that already he was slipping into the Americanese that Eva had

    succumbed to. The girl looked at him blankly and moved away.
    ‘Charming,’ said Wilt, and finished his drink. Ten minutes and two drinks later he was

    discussing Rapid Reading with a small round man who seemed deeply interested in the

    subject.
    In the kitchen Eva was cutting up French bread while Sally stood with a drink and talked

    about Lévi-Strauss with an Ethiopian who had just got back from New Guinea.
    I’ve always felt that L-S was all wrong on the woman’s front,’ she said, languidly

    studying Eva’s rear, ‘I mean he disregards the essential similarity…’ She stopped and

    stared out of the window. ‘Excuse me a moment she said, and went out to rescue Dr

    Scheimacher from the clutches of Henry Wilt. ‘Ernst is such a sweetie,’ she said, when she

    came back ‘you’d never guess he got the Nobel prize for spermatology.’
    Wilt stood in the middle of the garden and finished his third drink he poured himself a

    fourth and went to listen to the Watergate tapes. He got there in time to hear the end.
    ‘You get a much clearer insight into Tricky Dick’s character quadraphonically,’

    someone said as the group brake up.
    ‘With the highly gifted child one has to develop a special relationship. Roger and I

    find that Tonio responds best to constructional approach.’
    ‘It’s a lead of bull. Take what he says about quasars for example…’
    ‘I can’t honestly see what’s wrong with buggery…’
    ‘I don’t care what Marcuse thinks about tolerance. What I’m saying is…’
    ‘At minus two-fifty nitrogen…’
    ‘Bach does have his moments I suppose but he has his limitations…’
    ‘We’ve got this place at St Trop…’
    ‘I still think Kaldor had the answer…’
    Wilt finished his fourth drink and went to look for Eva. He’d had enough. He was halted by

    a yell from the man in the chef’s hat.
    ‘Burgers up. Come and get it.’
    Wilt staggered off and got it. Two sausages, a burnt beefburger and a slosh of coleslaw

    on a paper plate. There didn’t seem to be any knives or forks.
    ‘Poor Henry’s looking so forlorn,’ said Sally, ‘I’ll go and transfuse him.’
    She went out and took Wilt’s arm.
    ‘You’re so lucky to have Eva. She’s the babiest baby.’
    ‘She’s thirty-five,’ said Wilt drunkenly, ‘thirty-five if she’s a day.’
    ‘It’s marvellous to meet a man who says what he means,’ said Sally, and took a piece of

    beefburger from his plate. ‘Gaskell just never says anything straightforwardly. I love

    down to earth people.’ She sat down on the grass and pulled Wilt down with her. ‘I think it’s

    terribly important for two people to tell one another the truth,’ she went on, breaking

    off another piece of beefburger and popping it into Wilt’s mouth. She licked her fingers

    slowly and looked at him with wide eyes. Wilt chewed the bit uneasily and finally

    swallowed it. It tasted like burnt mincemeat with a soupçon of Lancôme. Or a bouquet.
    ‘Why two?’ he asked, rinsing his mouth out with coleslaw.
    ‘Why two what?’
    ‘Why two people,’ said Wilt, ‘Why is, it so important for two people to tell the

    truth?’
    ‘Well I mean…’
    ‘Why not three? Or four? Or a hundred?’
    ‘A hundred people can’t