The World According to Bertie Read Online Free Page A

Domenica. “You made it very clear that you didn’t like the idea of my going to the Malacca Straits in the first place. You said that in the little speech you gave at my dinner party before I left. You did. I heard you, Angus. Remember I was there!”
    â€œIt would be a very strange dinner party where the hostess was not there,” said Angus quickly. “If one wrote a note to such a hostess one would have to say: ‘To one who stayed away.’ Yes! That’s what one would have to write.”
    Domenica bit her lip. She knew that Angus had his moody moments, but this was quite ridiculous. She was now sorry that she had come to see him at all, and was certainly regretting having brought him the off-print. “You’re behaving in a very childish way, Angus,” she said. “In fact, I’ve got a good mind to take my paper away from you. There are plenty of people who would appreciate it, you know.”
    â€œI doubt that very much,” said Angus. “I can’t see why anybody would want to read it. I certainly won’t.”
    Domenica bristled with anger. “In that case,” she said. “I’m taking it back. The gift is cancelled.”
    She reached across to snatch the off-print from Angus. She felt the cover in her fingers and she tugged; but he resisted, and with a ripping sound “Past Definite; Future Uncertain” was torn into two roughly equal parts. Domenica let go of her part, and it fluttered slowly to the ground.
    â€œOh,” said Angus, looking down. “I’m very sorry. I know you started it by writing that cruel thing about me, but I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry…”
    What upset him was the destruction of another artist’s work. An anthropologist was not really an artist, but this was creative work–even if a rather dull sort of creative work–and he had destroyed it. Angus felt very guilty. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I would never have torn up your work intentionally. You do know that, don’t you? It’s just that I feel very out of sorts today.” He hesitated, as if wondering whether to entrust Domenica with a confidence. Had he forgiven her? Yes, he thought, I have. He lowered his voice. “Something really awful has happened. It’s made me very tetchy.”
    Domenica’s expression of irritation was replaced with one of concern. “Awful? One of your paintings…”
    Angus shook his head. “No, it’s nothing to do with my work. It’s Cyril.”
    Domenica looked past Angus into the flat. There had been no sign of the dog, who usually greeted any visitor with a courteous wagging of the tail and a pressing of the nose against whatever hand was extended to him. This had not happened. “He’s ill?” she asked. As she spoke, she realised it could be worse: Cyril could be dead. Dogs were run over in cities. There were other dangers too.
    â€œNo,” said Angus. “Not ill. He’s been removed.”
    Domenica looked puzzled.
    â€œAccused of biting,” said Angus morosely. “Removed by the police.”
    Domenica gasped. “But whom did he bite?”
    â€œHe bit nobody,” said Angus firmly. “Cyril is innocent. Completely innocent.”

6. Angus Tells the Story of Cyril’s Misfortune
    â€œI think you should invite me in,” said Domenica, from the hallway of Angus Lordie’s flat. “Let me make us a pot of coffee. Then you can tell me about it.”
    Angus Lordie’s earlier–and most uncharacteristic–churlishness evaporated. “Of course,” he said. “How rude of me. It’s just that…well, it’s just that this business over Cyril has left me feeling so raw.”
    Domenica understood. She had not had a dog since childhood, but she remembered the sense of utter desolation she had experienced after the loss of the scruffy Cairn terrier,