Chapter Nine
Sergio could hardly contain his curiosity, but he could not possibly come closer. It took an age before Ms D'Arcy left. Fortunately she had only been talking. Julia waited until she was outside and then returned to typing, as if he wasn't immensely curious and waiting to know what had gone on. He joined her with one eye on the door. Ms D'Arcy was not to be trusted and might return. He did not yet know what he would do in that case. "What did that woman want?"
"Was it Elizabeth D'Arcy?" Julia inquired eagerly. "I thought she must be."
"What did she want?"
"She didn't know who I was, don't worry. She did try to find out who or what I was, because thanks to you she thinks your partner must be young. Which I suppose is a compliment to me, because I'm not that young. I think it was that story you told her about my spending the night with some man. Clearly you don't do that if you're old. So anyone appearing young might be me."
"And how did you persuade her that you were not you?"
"My accent and my never having heard of Jane Austen. I pretended to be you. I repeated a lot of your comments, I mean," Julia smirked. "She bought it."
"You hope." He still hadn't given up looking at the door. If the woman returned, he could just be inquiring how long Julia was planning to occupy the computer.
"Listen. She's not as intelligent as she thinks. You know that group of people who want to be intelligent, who think they are, but who reveal time after time that they are not?"
"Oh, those."
Julia started to type an email.
To the German friend, he assumed. Sergio watched to see if there was any mention of him, but there wasn't. Maybe they were not that kind of friends. And maybe he was completely irrelevant to everything. "Listen, she may still be outside. We should go out separately and not get into the car until we know for certain that she's gone. I don't think she could do more than be a nuisance, but that's bad enough."
"She'll be more suspicious of you than of me, so you go first. I won't follow until I don't see her." She returned the car key to him.
"Policemen on television are always either widowers or alcoholics," said Julia pensively when she was in the car. "And sometimes both."
"Some are divorced."
"Because they are alcoholics."
"Could be," he agreed. "They have to appear interesting. Or at least as if they might not solve the case due to their imperfections. Perfect men are really boring, aren't they?"
"I really wouldn't fancy an ugly old man. Some of them are."
"Wouldn't you? I have an ugly old colleague who'd be really sorry. So, where are we going to have lunch?" He didn't want to drive around forever. The first suitable place would be fine.
"Somewhere quiet?" Julia still had to finish the letter. It would go a lot faster if she wasn't distracted by modern life.
"Somewhere quiet means somewhere expensive. I'll pick something up from the supermarket and we'll sit in the car."
She sighed. "I suppose it's a good quality not to waste any money."
"Academics aren't paid that much either, I thought."
She wasn't going to argue with that or with his plan. "No, that's true. I'll wait while you buy something, or should I come with you?"
"Just tell me what you wouldn't like. That will be quicker." Shopping with women was reputed to be time-consuming. "Or...wait. We could have a free sandwich at my parents' restaurant."
"I'm all for free sandwiches," Julia said with a look of doubt. "But I'm not sure I'm all for meeting your parents. What would they say? And it's not likely to be quiet if we have to be social. I wouldn't be able to finish the letter. And what would they think?"
"Well, probably that we've come for free sandwiches. Saturday lunchtime is not the best time for social calls."
She was a little reassured, but she remained a little wary of what his family would think of him appearing with a woman. Would they ask questions? Would they jump to conclusions? She certainly would if she were in their position. If a family member came in with an unknown woman when he was known to be single, she'd certainly be curious. At the very least. She didn't want to be scrutinised by everyone. And if she was working on the letter she wouldn't have any time to make a good impression either.
"We'll finish the letter there and then visit my GP. It'd be very efficient to do that in one go."
"Very. But what if my friend has emailed back?"
"We can check the computer at the restaurant. If everyone is busy they won't be using the computer much."
Julia took his word for it. She had no idea how things worked in a restaurant. "All right."
Sergio gave her an amused glance. She was probably thinking that his apron-clad family would be all exclamations and gestures and asking him in front of all the customers who the girl was. He was not going to enlighten her; she might not believe him.
He drove to a quiet street and parked there. Julia got out, clutching the sheets to her chest as if Elizabeth D'Arcy might jump out of a doorway and snatch them away from her. But as far as Sergio knew, no one had followed them from the hotel -- he had checked.
He wasn't seriously afraid of Ms D'Arcy, but it was a sort of game to look out and evade her, wasn't it? She would be no match for them if it really came down to it, but her lunacy made her difficult to predict.
The restaurant was half full. The weather was fine, so some people sat outside. Sergio stepped inside. His father greeted him. A brother was there. Two nieces. Only the latter looked curious.
Julia, for her part, saw two waitresses smiling at him. Weren't they a bit young to fancy him? The older man must be his father, but he didn't look very Italian. Sergio led her to a table at the back, in a part that was still sectioned off. She didn't know why; there were plenty of free tables in the front area.
One of the girls came up to them. "Hi Sergio," she smiled.
Julia shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
"Have you come to have lunch?"
"Yes, actually. And to do some work. This is Julia."
Julia shook hands with the girl, who was called Isabella. She wondered if Sergio was going to tell Isabella who she was and what they were really going to do here. There was no doubt that Isabella was wondering.
"We'll have sandwiches," said Sergio.
"The usual?" Isabella asked.
"Yes, please."
Isabella went away and Sergio pushed aside the vase that stood in the middle of the table to make room for the letter. Julia put the original letter to the left and her notes to the right. He couldn't read them upside down, but he would be of little help in any case. He barely understood the antiquated turns of phrase.
"What have you got so far?" he asked.
"I've got the standard lines, copied from the original. Now we need to say something about Mr Darcy."
"Something that leaves him on his pedestal."
"You're beginning to get it," Julia said appreciatively. "But don't forget that they've received hints about the contents that weren't as complimentary about the man as they would have liked. We can't have Jane gushing about the happily ever after. So, maybe he could look in danger of toppling off that pedestal."
"In danger only. All right. Something that could be undone by burning the letter."
"We'll have to make him a little less stiff and boring. Misunderstood."
"By?"
"Well, his wife, of course. She was the bad girl in the letter. If we make him a little more attractive, she won't have any reason to stray. In thought or in actuality."
"Some people don't really need a reason."
"But that's not our problem here. We need to write the Scandal Light version. Something that would elicit a shocked little gasp, not total incomprehension." She tapped the table with her fingers as she read a few lines of the original. "Look, there's some more that I can copy."
"Good." He didn't try to read upside down. But then he saw his mother. That might be a bad thing, or it might not. He had no idea.
"Hello, what have you come to do?" she asked.
Julia stopped writing and looked up.
"We need to see the GP and thought we'd have something to eat first. This is my mum," he said to Julia, but she might have guessed.
Julia had not. The woman looked very little like an Italian mama. In fact, she didn't look Italian at all, but tall and blonde.
His mother studied him and Julia alternately. "Oh. Are you pregnant?"
"Pregnant?" Only Sergio was able to voice the question. "Why?"
"Why else see the GP? You are never sick."
"This is my neighbour," he said, indicating Julia.
"It's very easy to get those pregnant. They live right next door."
"Yes, you're quite right, Mum." He turned to Julia across the table. "Can you use that in your letter?"
She was too unsettled to use anything at the moment. Luckily Sergio's mother was called by someone behind the bar and she walked away. "Huh," said Julia. "So what is she thinking now? That you got your neighbour pregnant?"
"No, she merely pointed out that it would be easy to get one pregnant. Don't make too much of it. She doesn't either, or she would have told you."
"If you say so." She couldn't be as indifferent about it as he was.
"But can you use it? You could hint that a neighbour of Mr Darcy's got pregnant and write how easy it really is to get a neighbour pregnant. You won't have to say he really did it."
"Pff." She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "I just have to readjust, all right? Back to work."
"It was only my mum."
"If you say so." She frowned at the paper, trying to work Darcy's neighbour into things. It should be easy, as Sergio's mother had said. "But how do you get your neighbour to allow you to get her pregnant?"
"I suppose you could ask her." He leant forward. "Or maybe it was the other way around. Mr Darcy's neighbour asked him and he obliged. Maybe it was a lesbian couple and --"
"They did not have lesbian couples in those days."
"Or so they thought. Maybe a couple with an infertile man. The wife became desperate because she would be blamed and she approached Mr Darcy."
"Well, I suppose we're lucky in that we don't have to write a detailed novel, but only a summary, so we can skip over the how and why. And there need only be rumours. Rumours are bad enough."
"And then Mrs Darcy takes up with this other fellow who was mentioned in the letter. If you can be wordy, the page will be full and you won't need any more."
Julia thought of it only now. "What will your GP think when she's copying this?" She looked horrified. He had said it was an older woman. She would be shocked.
"I'll tell her it's the state of modern academia."