A Fatal Attachment by Robert Barnard

Research, you know. I always think babies have to do a lot of growing before they get interesting. . . . But do thank Thea—so kind of her. . . . I hope Matthew is a fine, healthy baby?”
    â€œOh, he is. Very forward for his age.”
    â€œSplendid. Now—cream biscuits? Though now I look at you, Maurice, you are a trifle overweight, aren’t you?”
    The irony crackled in her voice. Maurice looked down at his stomach.
    â€œMore than a trifle, Lydia. The mot juste would be ‘decidedly’.”
    â€œDo you take enough exercise?”
    â€œI’m not conscious of taking any.”
    â€œAnd I suppose you eat all the wrong foods?”
    â€œToo much of the right ones, at any rate. You shouldn’t be censorious on that score, Lydia. You taught me to enjoy good food, and as far as I’m concerned the only wrong food is bad food.”
    â€œI didn’t teach you to eat immoderately, I hope! Right, well, let’s go through, Maurice dear. Will you take the tray? That’s right, on the little table here. How is the job going? Still writing for that—what’s its name?— Trafalgar Terrace?”
    Maurice didn’t correct her. One of Lydia’s little foibles was to make that sort of deliberate mistake about anything that she disapproved of.
    â€œYes, I still do a lot of writing for that. It’s still as popular as ever.”
    â€œI never see it. I never see anything much on the ‘box’.” She gestured towards a panelled part of the wall where, they both knew, a television set was concealed behind dark wooden doors. “News, now and then, and Parliament sometimes. But it’s so strident. Standards of behaviour are not what they were.”
    â€œPeople have been saying that since the Reform Bill, as I’m sure you know, Lydia.”
    She gestured dismissively.
    â€œPerhaps they’re right. Perhaps it has been downhill all the way for a century and more. So, as I say, I see virtually nothing. But at least your wife—Kelly, such an odd name! I always think of the Isle of Man—at least Kelly has got out of Trafalgar Terrace. So perhaps you will too before long.”
    â€œWaterloo Terrace is something one aspires to get into, Lydia, not something one is desperate to get out of. And it’s a programme that has its points. American soaps are all about money, but the English soaps are about community. The English ones do have a certain social value.”
    â€œWhat was it Dr Johnson said about disputing precedency between a flea and a louse?”
    Maurice laughed, genuinely amused.
    â€œThat’s very good, Lydia. You haven’t lost your touch. I don’t suppose you’d change your opinion if I told you it was one of the most popular programmes on television?”
    â€œNot in the least.”
    â€œI thought not. You don’t change. Anyway, the good news is that I may have a new job in the future.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œThere’s a possibility—no more—that I may become head of drama for Yorkshire Television.”
    Lydia raised her eyebrows rather quizzically as she poured two cups of tea and handed biscuits.
    â€œWell, that certainly sounds father grand. I was hoping you might get out of television, though.”
    â€œThey’re not queueing for my services at the National Theatre or the Royal Shakespeare Company.”
    â€œYou should make them want you! Television is not at all what I hoped for you.”
    Maurice shook his head pityingly, feeling the knots inside him being tied more tightly.
    â€œI’m sure it’s not. But I rather think it’s a mistake to hope for things from children.”
    â€œNonsense. It’s perfectly natural. And it gives them something to aim for.”
    â€œWell, I hope I accept Matthew for what he is, and don’t build up high expectations for him.”
    â€œThen he’ll never come to anything. One