Part 18 (2/2)

'And you're one of them?'

'It would seem so. It's not a matter of intelligence as such, more a way of thinking.'

'Sounds a bit precious to me.'

She smiled. 'It can be, yes. Another commonly held view is that the computer industry is growing faster than any other.'

'It isn't?'

'No. For the simple reason that there aren't enough of the right brains out there. Sure, there's an abundance of bright young things of the useless variety, but highly skilled programmers are like gold dust.'

'So what's the fascination? They're just machines.'

'To you, maybe. But for someone like me, it's the perfect interaction. Computers don't answer back; they only give out what you put in. You tell it what to do and it does it, no questions asked.'

'In my limited experience that isn't always the case.'

'That's because you're not giving it the right instructions. The fault is yours. You see,' she s.h.i.+fted forward in her seat, 'what you have to remember is that a computer has no nuances, no intuition, and no initiative. A computer never doubts or questions itself. Computers are very literal and as a programmer you get used to taking things, and people, at face value.'

'So if a Johnny Quick Banana came along and tried out something subtle on you, like a compliment, you'd blow a fuse and flash up, ”Sorry, can't compute!”'

Knowing that he was making fun of her, she said, 'Except there wouldn't be the apology.'

He smiled. 'Unless you were feeling particularly remorseful about something.'

'Are you trying to extract another apology out of me?'

'No. I think you've done splendidly in that department already. How about some music?'

'Depends what you're going to suggest.'

Going over to his CD collection, Will said, 'You can have whatever you like, so long as it isn't bubble-gum pop.'

'Do I look like that kind of girl?'

'No, but I was just making sure. How do you feel about R.E.M.?'

'Bring it on.'

'Hey, you mean you're old enough to appreciate quality music?'

'Now that I recognise as an insult. A patronising one at that.'

'Wrong! It was a compliment.'

Will put Reveal into the CD player and went back to the sofa. He decided that once you got the Hedgehog onto safe ground, once she was relaxed and had the foot-tapping down to a minimum, she was excellent company. Her enthusiasm for her work was charming. Yet it occurred to him, remembering how upset she'd been that day in the shop, that the way she treated Carrie and Joel was probably a reflection of the way she worked - she expected them to behave logically, like a computer would. And as any parent could tell her, kids just don't do that. Did he dare tell her this? No. He was enjoying himself too much to want to spoil a pleasant evening by antagonising her.

'I've got a confession to make,' she said, interrupting his thoughts, which had started to run along the lines that with her guard lowered she was really quite pretty; her cheekbones seemed less sharp and her eyes softer, less wary.

'A confession,' he repeated. 'That sounds ominous. What have you done?'

'It's part of another apology I think I owe you. You see, one of the reasons I snapped at you last week was because I'd taken something at face value and misinterpreted it. I thought your eldest daughter, Suzie, was your girlfriend and that it was her you were referring to when you said someone close to you was pregnant and considering an abortion.'

'You're kidding!'

'I'm afraid not.'

'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, I've done some s.h.i.+tty things in my time, but chasing girls less than half my age is not one of them. You must have thought the absolute worst. You did, didn't you? You thought I was a randy old git who couldn't keep it in his trousers.'

'I did. And I'm very sorry.'

He let out his breath. 'Wow. I don't know what to say, other than to put you straight and tell you that I go for women with a few more miles on the clock than that. And just to make it absolutely clear, Suzie is definitely my daughter and she's definitely pregnant, but not by me.' He saw a look of surprise pa.s.s across Harriet's face.

'Your daughter's pregnant?' she repeated. 'But she's - '

'So young,' he finished for her. 'Yes. I'm all too aware of that.'

'And the abortion?'

'She changed her mind. She's not going through with it.'

'That's brave. And the boyfriend? Where does he fit in?'

'There is no boyfriend.'

'That really is brave.'

'You're telling me.' Then, hearing the change of track on the CD, he said, 'Listen to this. Isn't it the best?'

'What's it called? I'm not familiar with it.'

He pulled a face. 'I knew you were too good to be true. It's ”I've Been High”. Now close your eyes and breathe it in.'

Harriet watched Will close his eyes and tilt his head back against the sofa cus.h.i.+on. What a surprising man he was.

Chapter Thirty-Two.

The following Sunday Harriet took the children to see a house the estate agent had described as being ideally situated and extremely good value. It was within walking distance of Maple Drive, and sounded too good to be true.

It was. Harriet could see from Carrie's and Joel's faces when they pulled up outside the three-storey Victorian semi that they weren't impressed with the gloomy exterior and broken front-room window. Things got a lot worse when they rang the doorbell and were shown inside. There were about two dozen cats in residence, along with a whiskery old man in carpet slippers and a badly stained cardigan. The air was thick with rancid milk, cat hairs and poached fish. Within minutes Harriet made their excuses - 'Sorry, we were looking for something with a bigger garden' - and drove on to Maywood where they were meeting Miles for Sunday lunch at Casa Bellagio. 'Bring the children if you like,' he'd said. 'It'll give your mum and dad a rest.' Selfishly Harriet had wished it was she who was having the rest but quickly chided herself: Mum and Dad deserved some time to themselves. She was looking forward to lunch with Miles, but hoped Carrie and Joel would behave, and that the restaurant's lack of face-painting facilities, ball pits, tables of Lego and obstacle courses wouldn't lead them to run amok through boredom. Like most grandparents, Bob and Eileen took their grandchildren to mini theme parks to eat. Harriet had a theory about this: in the future there would be generations of adults who would be unable to sit for an entire meal without leaping up every five minutes to career about the place in a screaming frenzy.

'We're not going to live in that horrible house, are we?'

Harriet looked at Joel in the rear-view mirror. 'Not a hope. I wouldn't live in that dump if you paid me a million pounds.'

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