go into rehearsal the first day back.’
‘Oh, I’m thrilled for you.’ The sullen look leaves his face and he smiles with boyish excitement. Naomi had forgotten how handsome he was.
‘Yes, that’s really good news,’ says Maggie, and Naomi has to admit to herself that she sounds pretty genuine too.
‘So what’s the part?’ asks Timothy. ‘Not Juliet?’
‘No. Sadly I have to learn my lines. It’s an Ayckbourn play.’
‘A what?’
‘You must have heard of Alan Ayckbourn, Timothy. He writes comedies. He’s very famous and very good.’
‘I’ve heard of him, of course,’ says Maggie. Naomi puts the ‘of course’ into the debit column of her newly opened mental ‘Is Maggie nice?’ ledger. ‘But I’m afraid we’re really rather serious in our theatrical tastes.’ Debit. ‘I wish I’d seen your Juliet. People still talk about it.’ Credit. No, double credit.
‘This food’s good, isn’t it?’ says Simon, just so as not to be left out really.
‘I suppose it is,’ says Maggie. ‘I’m afraid I’m one of those people who get talking and thinking and forget to taste what they’ve eaten and suddenly find it’s all gone and wish they’d concentrated on it a bit more.’ Debit. ‘But it’s difficult. I have a lot of responsibilities in my life.’ Debit. They’re piling up.
‘Maggie teaches RE at Coningsfield Grammar.’ Debit. Massive debit. Oh, Timothy, you should have gone for somebody who brings light into your shady life. No. Don’t think like that. He’s happy. He’s in love. It’s touching to see. Fucking irritating as well, though.
‘Food’s good, isn’t it,’ Simon calls out to the travel agent, in the hope that he won’t feel left out. Naomi is pleased. It reminds her that there are pleasant sides to his personality.
‘Very palatable. Did you know that until fifteen years ago, Peru was a net exporter of rice. Now it imports. Why? Because the Velasques government broke up the haciendas and gave the land to the peasants. When it’s theirs, they don’t expect to get their fingers dirty any more.’
They are glad they didn’t invite him to join them, on the whole.
‘So, how about you, Timothy? How’s the taxidermy going?’ asks Naomi.
‘Oh, very well. Very well. Dad’s leaving it to me more and more.’
‘How is he?’
‘Oh, he’s very well, but his eyesight’s failing.’
‘Give him my best wishes.’
‘I will. He’ll be pleased. He really liked you. He was…’ Timothy stops. Naomi knows he was going to say that his father was upset they split up. So does Maggie. ‘He really likes you too, of course, Maggie,’ continues Timothy unwisely. He turns to Naomi. ‘The first day back will be exciting for both of us. You’ll be meeting all the other actors and rehearsing for your play. I’ll be going to Kilmarnock Zoo to collect a tiger that lost its will to live.’
‘I’d lose my will to live if I was in Kilmarnock Zoo,’ says Simon.
‘I hate zoos,’ says Maggie. Credit. ‘And if you think that puts me in a difficult position over taxidermy, it doesn’t. Timothy’s the most ethical person I know. He would never have anything healthy and happy killed to further his business.’ Easy to mock, but, actually, rather reluctantly, credit.
After lunch, they have a walk in the jungle. Their guide, Basilio, is young, even boyish, and quite small. He takes his terrier with him, which gives it the feel of a Sunday walk in the park rather than an intrepid voyage of discovery. He shows them an achiote tree, picks a fruit from it and opens it up to demonstrate how the Indians paint their faces red. He thinks he hears rain.
‘We are not having the jungle walk cancelled,’ hisses the German. ‘I will not accept short measure.’
The rain holds off. They see many kinds of trees, and some ants, but no animals. Basilio apologises for the lack of animal life. There are too many people here. Clearly, to see the animals of the jungle you have to go where you aren’t.
The skies darken. The trees murmur their indignation at the increasing wind, and begin to shake anxiously. The walk ends forty minutes early.
‘Short measure,’ whispers the travel agent.
The next item on the agenda is a nocturnal canoe trip. It gets dark early here.
‘They will try to cancel it because of the rain,’ says their new friend. ‘We must insist. I will not accept short measure.’
But the rain stops. They go to the creek and climb into a canoe. Their guide for the trip is Basilio. They drift down the creek beneath the mudbanks, in the dark. They hear the noises of the jungle – crickets, more crickets, and then…Can it be? It is. More crickets. They also see the tail of a young anaconda. Well, they’re told that it’s the tail of a young anaconda, and choose to believe it. They hear a bullfrog. And more crickets. Suddenly the moon shines brightly. Basilio explains that it is now too light for alligators. Presumably, you can only see them when it’s too dark to see them. They are beginning to get the hang of this jungle travel.
The trip is abandoned.
‘Short measure,’ whispers the travel agent.
They invite him to join their table for the candlelit dinner. He is delighted.
They sit right in the middle of the huge, empty, candlelit room. Dinner is served by Basilio. It begins with a beetroot salad.
Their German friend asks Naomi and Simon where they have been since he last met them.
‘We went to Chiclayo,’ says Naomi.
‘Ah! What did you think of the Bruning Museum?’
‘The what?’
‘The Bruning Museum at Lambayeque.’
‘We didn’t go there.’
‘But it’s a marvellous museum, and the wacas between there and Chiclayo are also very interesting.’
‘We missed the wacas.’
‘But there is nothing else to see around Chiclayo.’
‘We went with Simon’s uncle, who is a parish priest, for him to say farewell to some Canadian nuns. We liked Chiclayo, its stubby cathedral covered in vultures, its friendliness, names like the Bang Bang Amusement Arcade. We spent a lovely evening in the nuns’ Parish House. They didn’t know how to mix gin and tonics, though. Either that, or there’s a great shortage of tonic in Peru.’
Naomi is trying to get a reaction from Timothy and Maggie. Even a slight sniff of disapproval would do. But they are impervious. So very disappointing.
The beetroot salad is followed by soup with a fried egg in it, tasty highly spiced chicken with poor fried rice, and
