Fatty O'Leary's Dinner Party by Alexander McCall Smith

water. Betty grasped his hand and tried to pull herself up, but Fatty, vulnerable in his waterlogged footwear, slipped and toppled over into the lough; so might a hippopotamus fall into the Limpopo, with just such a splash.
    â€œOh, Betty!” moaned Fatty, when he broke the surface. “Oh, Betty, I’ve gone and lost my shoes now.”
    Betty tried to help him find his shoes, ducking under the water to do so. But they had churned up so much mud that it was impossible to see through the turbid murk, and so they reluctantly gave up and waded toward the shore. As they staggered out of the water, brushing off the weed and slime that they had acquired on their ignominious journey, they looked up and saw two figures on the lawn of the house. These two had watched the unfolding tragedy from afar, but had been unable to help, given the rapid course of events. Now, however, they strode across the lawns to enquire of the unfortunate couple as to whether they could offer any assistance.
    â€œMy dear Mr. O’Leary,” said Rupert O’Brien, as he tried ineffectively to brush the aquatic detritus from Fatty’s shoulders. “What fearful bad luck! Did you overload that little boat, do you think? Is that what happened?”
    Fatty did not reply to Rupert O’Brien. He was chilled to the bone by his exposure to the cold waters of the lough. He had no shoes. His clothes were covered with waterweed.
    He turned to Betty, who stood shivering beside him, the green linen trouser suit clinging to her every bulge.
    â€œCome, Betty,” he said, with such dignity as he could muster. “We’ll go and have a hot bath.”
    â€œBut we don’t have a bath,” said Betty. “Not any more.”

9
    M RS . O’C ONNOR APPEARED LARGELY UNCONCERNED about the loss of the boat, just as she had accepted, with remarkable equanimity, the removal of the bath and its apparent abandonment in the courtyard.
    â€œThat boat’s gone down before now,” she said, as Fatty hesitantly explained their dripping and shivering arrival in the entrance hall. “I’ll send Delaney’s boy down to bring it up. He’s a great swimmer, that lad.”
    She surveyed her guests with concern. “But you poor things must be most uncomfortable, and you’ll be needing a good hot bath.”
    Fatty wrung his hands together in an attempt to restore warmth to his frozen fingers. “Our own bath, of course, is still …”
    â€œOf course,” said Mrs. O’Connor. “How silly of me. You must use my own bathroom. I’ll show you where it is. There’s lashings of hot water and I’ll get you some fresh towels.”
    She led them down a corridor to the bathroom. There, although Fatty took great care to ensure that he did not again become wedged in the tub, they were soon restored to warmth. Then, wearing the bathrobes that Mrs.O’Connor had thoughtfully provided for them, they made their way back to their own room and were soon warmly clad again.
    â€œIt could have been worse,” said Fatty, as he sat in front of their window and gazed out over the lough. “If the boat had capsized when we were way out in the middle then heaven knows what could have happened. We might have drowned.”
    â€œOh, don’t speak like that,” said Betty. “I wouldn’t like to drown, Fatty. Would you?”
    Fatty thought for a moment. “No,” he said. “I would not like to drown, Betty,” adding, “on balance.”
    There was silence for a moment. Then Betty spoke.
    â€œSometimes I dream that I lose you, Fatty,” she said. “I wake up feeling so sad, as if my whole world had come to an end. Which it would, if I really did lose you.”
    Fatty looked at his wife. He did not deserve her, he thought. Although he had done his best as a husband, he could not believe that he merited the good fortune of having such a devoted wife. And