Bernard had never actually needed all that
much to keep him going.
Supplied with a steady flow of wine, cigarettes and the occasional
breakfast, he’d go on relatively contentedly. It had never seemed to
Fran that he’d be happy sharing that with anyone. And it was easy to
see why, she thought – most people would do it recreationally, but to
Bernard it was simply how he lived.
It had been one of the
main reasons behind Fran’s puzzlement at how quickly Bernard had
adapted to Manny’s presence. It hadn’t taken long for the two of them
to develop a bizarre, almost symbiotic relationship. Not that it struck
her as anything anyone should strive for; symbiotic or not, it hardly
seemed harmonious. Fran was further mystified by Manny’s resilience
when it came to Bernard’s behaviour. He could take anything that was
thrown at him, even if it did lead to him resigning every other week.
And Bernard, for all his surly contempt regarding all things not
directly related to his sphere of interest, actually seemed to… not
necessarily enjoy, much less appreciate, but… tolerate the
things Manny had brought with him to that miserable, dingy shop.
Cinema. Washing. Standard lamps.
And
to Fran it looked like Manny was one of those things Bernard just
needed. Neither of them had known it would be like that; she hadn’t
intended for any of this to happen in the first place. Offering
Bernard’s spare room to Manny had been something of a joke to her, even
if she had quite enjoyed the idea of this lovely man living next door
to her shop. She’d known it would rile Bernard up, but then –
everything did. She’d given them a week, at most.
But there
they were, months later, sitting together by Bernard’s desk. Full in
the knowledge that no-one was going to come by the shop this close to
closing time, they sat with wine in their glasses, snug as bugs, and
oblivious to everything that went on around them. Even to her, it
seemed, and she was right there with them.
It was fascinating.
Fran
sat back and watched them with the keen interest of a deranged
gardener. They really were always together, the two of them, weren’t
they? Working hours and free time. Every day. And what was that thing
Bernard had told her when Manny had first left? Something about seeing
Manny all day and all night every day. And then there was the touching.
All that… unnecessary pawing. She couldn’t help but consider
the possibilities.
“What are you grinning at?”
Fran
blinked at the familiar bark and put out her cigarette. She hadn’t been
aware of the smile on her face, but she was aware of the laughter in
her voice as she spoke. “Oh, nothing… why?“
“Why?” Bernard snapped. “Because you’ve had that stupid, fatuous,
insipid smile on your face for hours. I thought you said it’ll
give you wrinkles. And you look like a fool!”
Manny piped in. “Has something nice happened, Fran?”
Why don’t you tell me. A fresh scheme was quickly taking form in
her mind. “It might have, actually.”
Two faces looked at her in blank bewilderment as she toyed with the
nearest empty bottle. “Have you ever played Truth, Manny?”
“Well, I – ye –“
Bernard
interrupted. “We are not playing Truth. Socializing games do not
survive in this house. You want to know something, just ask.” He
shifted in his chair. Fran thought she caught a look of alarm on
Manny’s face.
“You do realise I could make you play
Truth,” she said matter-of-factly and glared menacingly at Bernard’s
guilty-looking hair. “But fine. There is something I want to know,
actually.”
Manny blushed and noisily drained the dregs of his
wine. Bernard turned a page. “Ready? I’m going to ask,” Fran teased.
“I’m going to ask you one thing.”
Silence.
“Ready?”
The book slammed shut. “Right, get out.”
She
had no time to put up a decent struggle while a curiously warm hand
guided her insistently towards the door, accompanied by an all too
familiar, indignant slur of Bernard’s. “You and your probing! Is there
no privacy? My house!”
It was more or less exactly the answer she’d been hoping for.
Satisfied,
Fran shot a radiant smile at the grubby door, turned on her heel, and
decided she’d let them be - for a while, at least.
