The Penguin Book of the British Short Story by Philip Hensher

Author:Philip Hensher
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141979298
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2015-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

KINGSLEY AMIS

Mason’s Life

‘May I join you?’

The medium-sized man with the undistinguished clothes and the blank, anonymous face looked up at Pettigrew, who, glass of beer in hand, stood facing him across the small corner table. Pettigrew, tall, handsome and of fully moulded features, had about him an intent, almost excited air that, in different circumstances, might have brought an unfavourable response, but the other said amiably,

‘By all means. Do sit down.’

‘Can I get you something?’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you,’ said the medium-sized man, gesturing at the almost full glass in front of him. In the background was the ordinary ambience of bar, barman, drinkers in ones and twos, nothing to catch the eye.

‘We’ve never met, have we?’

‘Not as far as I recall.’

‘Good, good. My name’s Pettigrew, Daniel R. Pettigrew. What’s yours?’

‘Mason. George Herbert Mason, if you want it in full.’

‘Well, I think that’s best, don’t you? George … Herbert … Mason.’ Pettigrew spoke as if committing the three short words to memory. ‘Now let’s have your telephone number.’

Again Mason might have reacted against Pettigrew’s demanding manner, but he said no more than, ‘You can find me in the book easily enough.’

‘No, there might be several … We mustn’t waste time. Please.’

‘Oh, very well; it’s public information, after all. Two-three-two, five—’

‘Hold on, you’re going too fast for me. Two … three … two …’

‘Five-four-five-four.’

‘What a stroke of luck. I ought to be able to remember that.’

‘Why don’t you write it down if it’s so important to you?’

At this, Pettigrew gave a knowing grin that faded into a look of disappointment. ‘Don’t you know that’s no use? Anyway: two-three-two, five-four-five-four. I might as well give you my number too. Seven—’

‘I don’t want your number, Mr Pettigrew,’ said Mason, sounding a little impatient, ‘and I must say I rather regret giving you mine.’

‘But you must take my number.’

‘Nonsense; you can’t make me.’

‘A phrase, then – let’s agree on a phrase to exchange in the morning.’

‘Would you mind telling me what all this is about?’

‘Please, our time’s running out.’

‘You keep saying that. This is getting—’

‘Any moment everything might change and I might find myself somewhere completely different, and so might you, I suppose, though I can’t help feeling it’s doubtful whether—’

‘Mr Pettigrew, either you explain yourself at once or I have you removed.’

‘All right,’ said Pettigrew, whose disappointed look had deepened, ‘but I’m afraid it won’t do any good. You see, when we started talking I thought you must be a real person, because of the way you—’

‘Spare me your infantile catch-phrases, for heaven’s sake. So I’m not a real person,’ cooed Mason offensively.

‘I don’t mean it like that, I mean it in the most literal way possible.’

‘Oh, God. Are you mad or drunk or what?’

‘Nothing like that. I’m asleep.’

‘Asleep?’ Mason’s nondescript face showed total incredulity.

‘Yes. As I was saying, at first I took you for another real person in the same situation as myself: sound asleep, dreaming, aware of the fact, and anxious to exchange names and telephone numbers and so forth with the object of getting in touch the next day and confirming the shared experience.

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