Authors: Nicola Barker
‘Yes?’
He was tall and muscular and had big square teeth like a sheep or a goat. ‘I’ve come to get the cat. RSPCA.’
He showed her his card. She slammed the door shut, ran into the kitchen and switched the radio on, ignoring the bell’s ringing.
That night Emily phoned. She was brief: ‘Has that cat gone yet, Rosemary?’
Rosemary felt paranoid. ‘Why should he go? No one wants to understand him. I know he’s difficult, but people have mistreated him. He can’t speak to defend himself so I have to defend him.’
Emily sighed and hung up.
On the morning of the third day Rosemary was standing by her rose bushes waiting for Rasputin to finish devouring his breakfast when the RSPCA man sprang into her back
garden and pushed her up against the picket fence. She didn’t immediately recognize him. He held on to her arm with one hand and took out his card. He said, ‘Remember me? My name is Bill. I’ve come to get your cat.’
His hand on her arm was enormously powerful. She said, ‘Go away. Leave us alone. I’m all he’s got. He isn’t doing anybody any harm.’
Bill stared down at her and smiled, ‘How the hell do you know what he wants? Who gave you the right to decide anyway? You think you know what’s for the best but you don’t.’
He let go of her arm and strode into the kitchen. She ran after him. Rasputin was huddled in the corner by his food bowl. His eyes were hooded but he didn’t growl. He was so thin. Bill bent down and picked him up. Rasputin didn’t struggle. Rosemary was amazed. ‘He’s so calm with you. How do you do it?’
Bill smiled. ‘He knows that I want to help him. Do you have a box?’
She moved towards him. ‘Please leave him with me. I’m sure I can make him better.’
He stared at her in silence for a minute or so and then said, ‘Are you very lonely?’
She clenched her fists, furious. ‘Don’t patronize me.’
He grinned, and his face was like the face of an extraordinary animal, a buffalo or a moose. He said, ‘I’m going to kill this cat because it is the kindest thing to do.’
She wanted to cry. ‘You don’t understand …’
He put Rasputin down gently and then stood up straight again. He filled the kitchen. Something about him made her dizzy. An energy was in the room. Rasputin seemed very small and insignificant, like a mouse or a tiny kitten. Bill said, ‘I do understand. I want to show you something.’
He put his hands to his waist and unbuckled his belt. Rosemary gasped. For a moment she thought he was going to hit her with the belt or expose himself. She watched his hands as he undid his buttons and then slid his trousers from his hips.
She could barely believe what she saw. His thighs and legs were completely covered in soft brown fur. He bent down and untied his shoes. He said, ‘I have to adapt my shoes so that they look realistic, as though they are supporting a whole foot instead of just a hoof.’
He removed two large, round, yellowy hooves from his Argyll socks. They made a horsey clip-clopping noise on her tiled floor. She felt uncomfortable but couldn’t resist saying, ‘Do you mind if I feel your fur?’
He shook his head. ‘Feel free.’
She stroked his fur back into place where it had been ruffled by his clothing. He smiled as she stroked him and then said, ‘I bet you want to know the answer to two questions, but you are too afraid to ask.’ He paused. ‘Firstly, how was I produced, from a woman or a goat? Secondly, do I operate effectively in the sexual arena as a man?’
She smiled and blushed slightly. ‘I must admit, I was wondering …’
He grinned. ‘Well, I’m afraid we’ve got more pressing matters to discuss at the moment.’
He nodded towards Rasputin who was lying on his side near a puddle of urine. Rosemary picked up a cloth and ran it under the tap. She said, ‘I’m going to clear this mess up and then I’m going to make us both something to eat and drink.’
Bill shrugged his shoulders, ‘Whatever you say, but remember, I’m a very determined character.’
He picked up the dishcloth and stared at it ruminatively. She caught him just in time, and, snatching it away said, ‘Hang on a minute! I like that dishcloth. I know you goats eat just about anything, but today I want you to have a proper breakfast. We’ve got a lot to discuss.’
Later they ate a delicious meal of eggs, beans and mushrooms and drank mugs of steaming coffee.
NICOLA BARKER’S
eight novels include
Darkmans
(short-listed for the 2007 Man Booker and Ondaatje prizes, and winner of the Hawthornden prize), and
Wide Open
(winner of the 2000 IMPAC Dublin Literary Award). She has also written two prize-winning collections of short stories, and her work has been translated into more than twenty languages. She lives in east London.
WINNER OF THE DAVID HIGHAM PRIZE FOR FICTION
WINNER OF THE PEN/MACMILLAN SILVER PEN AWARD
From the reviews of
Love Your Enemies
:
‘The most impressive literary debut of the season’
Elle
magazine
‘Nicola Baker has a rare writing talent and looks set to inject some badly needed new blood into the tired and cautious world of English publishing’
Time Out
‘Barker’s clear, uncluttered prose is a treat … she’ll soon be on the library shelf, between Amis and Barnes – where she belongs’
Spectator
Reversed Forecast
Small Holdings
Heading Inland
Wide Open
Five Miles from Outer Hope
Behindlings
Clear
Darkmans
Burley Cross Postbox Theft
Fourth Estate
An imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
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First published in Great Britain by Faber and Faber Ltd in 1993 and in paperback in 1994
LOVE YOUR ENEMIES
. Copyright © Nicola Barker 1993. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Nicola Barker asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-0-00-743603-3
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 978-0-00-746247-6
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