The Idea of Perfection Read Online Free PDF

chops now. She flinched as the hatch flipped up with a bang.
    Here you are, Mrs Porcelline.
    His eyes dwelt on her, and his voice did a sort of yearning thing. The fly-wire made it hard to be sure, but she thought it was possible that he winked.
    The very best there is, Mrs Porcelline. For you.
    He hung on to the parcel when she reached into the hatch for it, and for a moment they were joined by the little squashy packet of meat.
    It was like holding hands, in a way.
    They have a fascination for white women, she thought, and suppressed the thought.
    Finally he let go of the packet and bent to get something from under the counter.
    Was hoping you’d come in, Mrs Porcelline, he said in his languorous voice.
    Been keeping this for you.
    It was like a dirty secret when his big hand came out from the hatch holding a brown paper bag towards her.
    Oh! Really! What is it?
    She heard her exclamations travel through the meaty air, filling the shop. She had a feeling she was shouting.
    When she opened the bag, something cool rolled out against her hand and she gave a little cry of fright, snatching her hand back. The thing was cool and damp and bright red. She thought in shock that it was a tiny heart. They eat dog, she thought confusedly. Dogs’ hearts.
    She heard herself go Urgggh! It was the sort of noise her mother had made when taken by surprise. She had made it herself in the long-ago stale dusty playgrounds of childhood. Common. It was a noise she thought she had long since trained herself out of.
    And she could see now that the thing was not a dog’s heart at all. It was only a strawberry.
    From my garden, the butcher said.
    She hated the way she could not see him properly.
    Picked them myself. Six o‘clock this morning.
    She smiled at the mesh, where he was a vague square dark shape.
    Thank you so very much, she heard herself gush. They’re perfectly marvellous.
    They were horrible. They were too big, too solid, too meaty looking. Fleshy, solid, like a heart. Revolting.
    Ox-heart, the butcher said, and she was startled.
    Pardon? I beg your pardon?
    She wondered in panic if she had spoken aloud.
    What they’re called, that kind, he said. Ox-heart.
    She felt paralysed. He brought his head down to the flap and inserted his big face sideways into it to look up at her, his eyes skewing sideways.
    Ox-heart, he said clearly. Heart of ox.
    His head stayed there, sideways in the hatch, watching. The hatch was just the size of his big smooth face. She put her own head sideways too. It seemed only polite. She could feel her smile hanging down on one side. It was like being a huge sparrow, head cocked.
    They’re so big! she exclaimed. They’re enormous! What enormous things!
    She felt as if she had got the hang of the conversation now. They were strawberries. They were not dogs’ hearts, although they were called ox-hearts. But her brain was going very slowly. She could not think of anything to say apart from how big they were.
    She held up one of the strawberries and turned it around and around. It was not really all that interesting.
    How do you get them so big? I’ve never seen them so big! They’re incredible! So huge! Marvellous!
    Suddenly she thought it sounded as if she was actually exclaiming over and over again at the huge and marvellous size of his — well - organ.
    She felt herself starting to sweat.
    She was certainly not thinking about his — well — organ.
    And I’m sure they will taste just delicious!
    She blushed more and longed for rescue. Where were all those meat-eaters’ wives when you needed them?
    She flung her husband into the breach.
    Hugh will love them, she said. And so will William. They love strawberries.
    The butcher’s large bland face did not move in the flap but his eyes blinked.
    Oh, he said. But I picked them for you.
    He was watching her, and she thought he was smiling, but with his face sideways it was hard to be sure. She wished the face would go away, the eyes stop looking at her.