Philip Hensher

The Emperor Waltz


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it’s X Factor, is it. But that’s dutty. We ain’t seeing that.’

      ‘That Louis Walsh, he badman, is it.’

      The twins laughed. Anita went over to the table where her mother had deposited the tray.

      ‘Oh, my God,’ she said, running her fingers through her hair. ‘This is like – have you seen this food, it’s like a million calories in like every bite, I’m not touching that. My mother, she’s crazy? She thinks she’s got to feed me up every chance, you know what I mean? You’ve got to eat twice as much or she’ll think I’m anorexic and shit. This food is like so random. This shit, it reminds me, it was like this one time at my friend’s house, like once, it was incredible?’

      ‘Hey, Anita,’ Nathan said.

      ‘Yes, Nick,’ Anita said.

      ‘No, I’m Nathan,’ Nathan said. ‘You got my name right a minute back.’

      ‘I’ve like forgotten already,’ Anita said. ‘So, Nathan. What were you saying?’

      ‘Are you going to tell about this one time at your friend’s house, because it was like incredible?’ Nathan said.

      ‘Oh, fuck you,’ Anita said.

      ‘I was saying,’ Nick said, ‘that

      ‘I just couldn’t believe it,’ Mr Carraway was saying, drink in hand. ‘I had a phone call from Simon Wu about the Middlesbrough plant, this is four thirty on a Friday afternoon, an aspect of the sale we hadn’t considered, and could I draw up a memorandum for Helen Barclay’s office, which I did – it was a whole weekend, dawn till dusk – and got it to Simon Wu first thing on Monday morning. It was a piece of work, I can tell you – it was really one of my proudest moments, turning something like that round in, what, forty-eight hours? Next thing I know—’

      ‘This is amazing, this,’ Mrs Carraway said, confidentially, leaning forward to Mr Khan. ‘Amazing.’

      ‘The next thing I know, Shabnam, is a furious phone call from Helen Barclay’s office. On my mobile – I was in Birmingham in a meeting on a completely different project that Monday morning, I had to leave to take the call – and it couldn’t wait. What did I think I was doing? I’d sent the report to Simon Wu and cc’d Helen Barclay’s office. They’d have me know that next time I should send it to Helen Barclay’s office and cc Simon Wu. They were in the lead and I should be writing to them.’

      ‘Doesn’t matter that they would have got the report in the same way, exactly the same way,’ Mrs Carraway said, in the same confidential manner. ‘Can you imagine, Michael?’

      Michael Khan shook his head. ‘It’s all about ownership,’ he said. ‘People believe that they own a project and should be addressed first. I’ve met this before. People are so concerned about who comes first in these situations. The main person and the cc is just a part of those questions of hierarchy.’

      ‘And women,’ Shabnam Khan said. ‘It’s just so typical of a woman in this situation, that a woman like—’

      ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Mr Carraway said.

      ‘Another drink, Caroline?’ Michael said.

      ‘Well, I don’t mind if

      we can have some fun up here,’ Nathan said. ‘You get me? Anita, you like poppers?’

      ‘Poppers?’ Anita said. ‘Are you like seriously asking me if I like poppers?’

      ‘Ah, come on, Anita,’ Nick said. ‘We’re having a bit of banter with you, man. We know you ain’t been to orchestra practice this afternoon like your mum says.’

      ‘Oh, yeah,’ Anita said. ‘So I’ve been like where, then?’

      ‘You’ve been doing it with some badman all afternoon, ain’t that the truth?’ Nick said. ‘You’ve been lying there, and saying to him, go on, do me, do me.’

      ‘Whatever. Go away, little boy,’ Anita said. ‘You’re wrong in the head. I went to orchestra practice, you know? I took my violin, and my dad drove me, and I like rehearsed Dvo

ák’s like Eighth Symphony, and then at seven my dad came to pick me up. So where was I supposed to be doing it you know with some badman, do you think?’

      ‘Ah, come on, Anita, we know you like it, we know you sket deep down,’ Nathan said.

      ‘And we brought you some poppers,’ Nick said. ‘You like poppers, Anita?’

      Out of his back pocket in his falling-down, underpants-showing jeans, Nick pulled a small brown bottle. Anita leant over and examined it. The label said Jungle Juice.

      ‘That’s Jungle Juice,’ Anita said. ‘That’s poppers, is it?’

      ‘I love poppers,’ Nathan said, putting it back in his pocket. ‘Oh, we love poppers. You just take one sniff, Anita, and it’s amazing, you’re falling over. One time, right, we were in IT and we were just passing it around, because our IT teacher, Mr Brandon, he never notices anything, you can just show him your screen and he’s lost in space, and the whole class was just high, and, Anita, listen, Mr Brandon just never noticed.’

      ‘Yeah, Brandon, he wallad,’ Nick said.

      ‘He what?’ Anita said.

      ‘He wallad, I said,’ Nick said, thrusting his chin out and shrugging.

      ‘I have no idea what that means,’ Anita said. ‘I can’t understand half the things you say. Wallad?’

      ‘Yeah, man, everyone knows wallad,’ Nathan said.

      ‘I’m like so –’ she made a face of horror and despair, a mask of tragedy and abandonment ‘– when I even like listen to you, you know what I mean? It was like this one time, at my friend’s house, you know, it was just like …’

      ‘You don’t have to like listen,’ Nick said.

      ‘Yeah, but I can’t help it, you know, I’m stuck in here.’

      The door opened, and there was the eleven-year-old. He had been dressed by his mummy. He wore an ironed white short-sleeved shirt and blue trousers; his shoes were black lace-ups. He himself wore a cheerful, open expression, his black hair cut short at the back and sides, sticking up somewhat on top. Behind him was Mrs Khan, smoking.

      ‘Hi, kids,’ she said. ‘Having a good time? This is Basil. That’s Anita, and that’s …’

      ‘Nick,’ said Nick, and ‘Nathan,’ said Nathan.

      ‘That’s right. You know Mrs Osborne, don’t you? Have you met Basil before? He’s not in your school yet, are you, Basil?’

      ‘No, Mrs Khan,’ Basil said. ‘But I’m in the same orchestra as Anita. She plays the violin and I play the cello, though I’m only in the seventh desk back. We’re rehearsing Dvo

ák’s Eighth Symphony and the Emperor Waltz at the moment. The cello’s not really my main instrument, though. My main instrument’s the organ, but you can’t play that in orchestras apart from a few pieces. For instance, did you know Mahler’s Eighth Symphony has a part for an organ?’

      ‘I never knew that,’ Mrs Khan said, puffing on her cigarette. ‘That you were in the same orchestra as Anita. We must have a word with your mum, and then we can pick you up together rather than both turning out every week.