Love Your Enemies Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘I wasn’t saying that. I’m not quite so stupid. All I mean is that people can’t afford to be so self-indulgent, so luxurious. You have to get on with things. My life would be in a fine mess if I suddenly decided that I wanted to be free, that I couldn’t be bothered to look after my young baby any more because she gets in the way of my freedom and independence.’
    The man sounded irritated. ‘No, you’re trivializing the issue. You decided to have the baby, you made that decision freely many months ago. You could have aborted the child had you felt otherwise. The character Mathieu isn’t entirely unhindered in his decisions about whether he wants Marcelle’s baby … that’s silly, what I mean to say is that obviously he doesn’t want a baby but he has other considerations to take into account; Marcelle’s feelings, money, the illegality of abortions …’
    Sammy Jo sighed, ‘Men are bastards. Really it’s her problem. He just worries about it to make himself feel good. He’s a shit.’
    He interrupted her. ‘The character doesn’t matter, Sammy Jo. It’s his thoughts and actions that are our concern, not whether you happen to like him or not.’
    Sammy Jo snorted. ‘If I don’t like the character how can I read and enjoy the book?’
    His voice was sharp. ‘That’s stupid. Behave rationally. Since when do you have to like a character in order to be able to understand and sympathize with his dilemmas? You can’t go through life saying, “Oh, she doesn’t sound very nice so I’m not interested in her.” That’s ridiculous. Those sorts of comments are unworthy of you. You should think beyond your own standpoint. If you can’t do that, then a whole dimension is lost to you. Have you got a proper pad of paper now?’
    Sammy Jo shrugged and didn’t answer, like a petulant schoolgirl. The voice said, ‘Sammy Jo, answer me.’
    She hung up and stared at the telephone for several seconds, waiting for it to ring. It didn’t. She stared at it for a full five minutes, then began to feel stupid. She walked over to Charlie, who was sleeping in her crib, warm and cosy, smelling of milk. Out in the garden a small grey cat was scratching its claws on the thin trunk of a small apple tree. She felt frustrated. She thought, ‘What right does he have to manipulate me like this? He’s imposing on me. He’s a bully. It’s wrong for strangers to interfere like this, to impose like this, to telephone you when they want, to build up a relationship that depends solely on their goodwill …’
    She scratched her head and said musingly to Charlie’s tiny body, which, disguised by layers of soft blankets, just rose and fell with the repetitive lull of sleepy breathing, ‘Charlie, people are strange. This man is strange. I suppose I should tell Jason really, but I know he’ll just get upset. I could telephone Lucy Cosbie … but do I really need to? This situation is quite different from before, altogether different. No one is threatening me. I don’t know.’
    She went and sat down on the sofa and picked up her book again. She read until five and then went into the kitchen and started to prepare dinner. Jason came in while she was frying some courgettes and cutting mushrooms. He pecked her on the cheek and said, ‘Do I guess from this that Charlie will be enjoying ratatouille-flavoured milk this evening?’
    She smiled broadly. ‘You’re welcome to enjoy ratatouille-flavoured milk yourself this evening if you prefer, so long as there’s enough to go around. I don’t know how well garlic and tomatoes translate into a calcium drink, though.’
    He shook his head. ‘I think I’ll skip that one, if you don’t mind, Sammy Jo.’
    The telephone rang. Jason immediately moved away from her as though to go and answer it. Sammy Jo grabbed holdof his arm and said hurriedly, ‘Jason, I know who that is. It’s for me. My mother said she’d ring this evening.’ She pushed past him as she spoke. ‘I’ll get it.