'What's happened to you? What happened when you went away? Where did you go?' 'When were you ever interested in being good?' 'I am aware that I cannot go around giving eighty quid to every homeless person.
'You can't go round giving eighty quid to homeless people!' I hiss. Two or three other people have gathered to watch, and I realise that this is an argument I can't win - not here, not now - so we walk towards the underground station. 'Our house? The money in our joint account? The money in our savings account? We won't even notice this tomorrow.' 'My husband's just given away everything we own,' I tell him.
'Oh that's nice,' says the male half of the theatre couple. That's why he's sleeping here.' I don't understand why I'm like this, but then, I don't understand why David's like that.
'Well, where's he going to go in a bloody taxi?' I shout. 'I'll bet this chap would love to get a taxi,' says David with a maddening sweetness in his voice. 'I wanted to get a taxi.' The couple is still watching me, and I don't like the whine in my voice. 'David, what are you doing? We haven't even got the tube fare home.' David takes the money off me, gives it to the boy again and tries to hustle me along the street. A passing couple holding a programme from the Stoppard play stop when they see me taking money from a homeless person, and I want to tell them I'm a doctor.
As far as I know, we're left with nothing. I don't think about what I'm doing - why should I? - and give it to him, and he proceeds to give the kid everything that's in there - about eighty pounds in notes, because I went to the cashpoint today, and three or four pounds in change. He does not, miraculously, Have Views on the homeless.) He doesn't find anything, and he asks me for my purse, with many apologies, and another explanation as to why he thought he had his wallet with him when he didn't. (Let me be fair to David: he always does this. We pass a homeless kid in a doorway huddled up in a sleeping bag and David feels in his pockets, presumably for some change. We're looking for a cab, which is what we always do after a night in the West End - tube in, treat ourselves coming home - and I suddenly feel the need to see a yellow taxi light right this second, because I'm tired, and disoriented, and the thought of having to battle on escalators with a lot of Friday night drunks fills me with dread.Īnd then something odd happens, and it becomes clear that something odd has happened to David, that the change in him is a result of something other than introspection and self-will. 'If you start examining your prejudices carefully there'll soon be nothing left of you.' It was, it was a prejudice I hadn't examined properly.'
0 kommentar(er)
