It Had to Be You by David Nobbs

Author:David Nobbs [Nobbs, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2011-06-23T04:00:00+00:00

The man who had decided never to wear his white linen suit again picked up the phone and rang the number he had been told to ring by the person at the number he’d been told to ring by the person whom he had first rung. God, you needed patience.

‘Oh, hello, this is a little awkward, and I don’t know if I’m ringing the right place, but I’ve been told that you’re the person to ring.’

‘How can I help you, sir?’

The voice sounded polite and not impatient. Promising.

‘Yes. It’s a little embarrassing. My name’s … well, no, it isn’t, that’s the problem.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Impatience creeping in.

‘I lost a wedding ring at a hotel. My wedding ring. They found it and sent it on to my address. But I’d given the wrong address … in their guest book, because …’

He hesitated. He didn’t know this man, the man didn’t know him, they would never meet, why on earth was he hesitating?

‘… because, to be honest, I was meeting a married woman and I … I know her husband pretty well … and just to be on the safe side I gave a false name and address, and so this ring, which has some fantastic diamonds in it and was a gift from my beloved wife so it is extremely valuable both financially and sentimentally, as you can imagine, has gone off to a man who doesn’t exist, living in a house that doesn’t exist, in a street that doesn’t exist, in Poole, which does exist, which is why I am ringing you.’

‘I see. What was the address, sir?’

‘Does it matter, since it doesn’t exist?’

‘Well, it might be similar to an address that does exist, and the postman might have used his initiative.’

‘I see. Yes. All right. It was addressed to Mr J. Rivers, that’s me, or rather it isn’t, of Lake View, 69 Pond Street, Poole.’

‘I see, sir.’

Not a flicker of amusement, making the joke address seem even more childish than ever.

‘Are you still there?’

‘I’m just checking in the book, sir.’ A distinct note of rebuke. ‘Yes, sir, there is no Pond Street in Poole.’

‘So what will happen to it?’

‘It will be sent, maybe has already been sent, to Belfast.’

‘Belfast?’

‘We have an office in Belfast, sir, to which all letters and packages with untraceable addresses are sent.’

‘Why Belfast, of all places?’

‘I have no idea, sir. It was not my idea.’

‘No, I realise that. Pretty silly idea, though. It’ll probably get blown up.’

‘I understand that there is no great security crisis in Belfast as of this moment in time, sir.’

‘No, I was only being … I’m just irritated. Maybe the Post Office has an agreement with an airline so that everybody has to fly to Belfast to get their letters back.’

‘I couldn’t possibly comment on that, sir.’

‘Anyway, the bottom line is, to get this ring back, I’ll have to go to Belfast.’

‘I’m afraid so, sir.’

‘Bloody hell!’

‘Precisely, sir.’

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