Swimming Home by Deborah Levy

Author:Deborah Levy [Levy, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Psychological, Psychological Fiction, Fiction, Riviera (France), General
ISBN: 9781908276025
Google: pZ_MygAACAAJ
Amazon: 1908276029
Goodreads: 11700333
Publisher: And Other Stories
Published: 2011-10-02T04:00:00+00:00

My mother says I’m the only jewel in her crown

But I’ve made her tired with all my etc,

So now she walks with sticks

To accept her language was to accept that she held him, her reader, in great esteem. He was being asked to make something of it and what he made of it was that every etc concealed some thing that could not be said.

Kitty was waiting for him on the terrace of Claude’s café. To his displeasure he noticed that Jurgen was sitting at the table opposite her. He seemed to be playing with a piece of string, weaving it between his fingers to make a spider’s web. It was becoming clear to him that Jurgen was a sort of guard dog to Kitty Finch, not exactly baring his teeth at all intruders but he was protective and possessive all the same. He seemed to have forgotten that it was she who was the intruder. All the same Jurgen was obviously there to make sure anyone who came near her was a welcome visitor and not a trespasser. He did not seem to elicit much affection from her. It was as if she knew he must never be patted and cuddled and made to feel anything less than alert on her behalf.

‘Hi, Joe.’ Kitty smiled. Her forehead looked as if she had pressed it against a hot iron. She was a redhead and the sun had been brutal to her pale skin.

He nodded, jangling the coins in his jacket pocket as he sat down. ‘You should use sun block, Kitty,’ he said paternally.

Claude, who knew he looked more like Mick Jagger every day and worked quite hard on this happy genetic accident, strutted to their table carrying a large bottle of mineral water and two glasses. Joe saw this as an opportunity to pass some time and avoid talking about the poem he had kicked under his bed with the cockroaches, etc.

He turned to Kitty. ‘Did you order this?’

She shook her head and made a glum face at Claude. Joe heard himself bellowing at the pouting waiter.

‘What’s wrong with tap water?’

Claude stared at him with blatant dislike. ‘Tap water is full of hormones.’

‘No, it’s not. Bottled water is a trick to get more money from tourists.’

Joe could hear Claude laughing. The only other sound was the birds. And the nervous hum inside Kitty Finch, who was a bird or something fairyish anyway. He couldn’t look at her. Instead he fixed his eyes on Claude.

‘Tell me, sir. Is your country incapable of processing water that is safe to drink?’

Claude, with the flourish of a low-rent pimp showing off his new diamond cufflinks, unscrewed the cap on the ice-cold bottle of water and walked towards his dogs, who were sleeping under the chestnut tree. He winked at Jurgen as he poured the water into the chipped ceramic bowls that lay by their paws. The dogs lapped at the water indifferently and then gave up. Claude patted their heads and strutted back into the café.

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