مهمانی شام

Chapter four

The dinner party

It was Friday night. I wasn’t working. Tom and I were going for dinner at my best friend Harriet’s house. Harriet and I were old friends from school. We saw each other every week. Harriet lived with her boyfriend, Steve. They were getting married in April, in Scotland.

I put on a red dress and my favourite shoes.

‘You look beautiful,’ said Tom. He tried to kiss me, but I moved away.

‘Come here,’ he said and he pulled me hard.

‘Stop it, Tom,’ I said.

‘Why don’t you want to kiss me?’ he asked.

I didn’t reply. I felt angry when Tom was like this.

We didn’t talk again as we walked to Harriet and Steve’s house.

‘Hello. Come in!’ said Harriet, opening the door.

I went into the kitchen with Harriet. She was cooking. Harriet is a very good cook. After we left school, she studied to be a cook and I moved in with Tom.

In those days, I thought I was the lucky one. I had a man who earned good money and I didn’t have to work. Now I wasn’t sure. Now I was learning that work can be important.

Harriet knew me better than anyone. She looked at me. ‘What’s wrong, Nancy?’ she asked. ‘You look different. What is it?’

I looked at her. ‘Don’t say I’m stupid,’ I said. ‘It’s about someone at work.’

‘At the centre?’

‘Yes.’

‘A guard?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said.

‘One of the asylum seekers?’

‘Yes, I really like him.’

‘Like? How?’ Harriet asked.

‘I think about him all the time.’

‘But Nancy, you’re with Tom. You and Tom love each other. What more do you want?’

‘I don’t want more things,’ I said. ‘The first time I saw this man I. I needed him to like me.’

‘What’s his name?’ she asked.

‘George.’

And why did he come to this country?’

‘I don’t know,’ I told her. ‘I asked him, but he didn’t say.’

‘Then what do you know about him?’

I looked at my best friend. ‘Harriet,’ I said, ‘I know that he’s kind. I know he wants to help people. Sometimes you don’t need to know a lot about someone. I know I like him. That’s all.’

Harriet looked at me.

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to talk about George any more. I didn’t think Harriet really understood. ‘So, is everything ready for the wedding?’ I asked.

‘Nancy,’ said Harriet, ‘just remember, you love Tom. You live with Tom. You have a beautiful home and a good life. Don’t lose it.’

Of course Harriet was right. I had a beautiful home. I had Tom. But I didn’t tell Harriet that Tom was often angry with me.

‘How’s the job?’ Steve asked me over dinner.

‘It’s.’ I started.

‘Why don’t they close that centre?’ said Tom. ‘One day the asylum seekers will all escape. Then we will have problems. Asylum seekers steal things.’

I thought about George, Bill and the biscuits.

‘Asylum seekers don’t steal things, Tom,’ I said.

‘Well, they come here and take our jobs,’ said Tom. ‘Soon Nancy will say everyone can come into our country. Then there will be no jobs, no houses and no hospital beds for us!’

‘Tom!’ said Harriet. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m talking about asylum seekers that come here to get a good life,’ said Tom. ‘This is our country. Not theirs.’

‘Our country? Who are we?’ asked Steve.

‘Us. me. people who were born here!’

‘So,’ said Harriet, ‘do you mean that I can’t live here because my father was born in Scotland and my mother was born in Italy?’ She was as angry as me.

‘That’s different,’ said Tom.

‘Why is it different?’ asked Harriet.

‘I’m talking about people from the other side of the world. They come here and take our jobs and houses.’

‘People come to this country because they are afraid to stay in their countries,’ I said. ‘It isn’t easy for them to leave their homes. I hear some terrible stories at the centre. These people need our help.’

Tom laughed.

‘Stories! That’s what they are. Nancy is so sweet she believes anything. More cake please, Harriet.’

Tom knew we didn’t agree with him, so he started talking about something else.

That night, in bed, I couldn’t look at Tom.

‘The one night I have you at home and you don’t want to talk to me!’ he said. ‘I don’t know you any more, Nancy.’ I didn’t answer.

I waited until he was asleep and then I turned and looked at him. Tom with his angry ideas about asylum seekers.

‘Do I still love him?’ I asked myself. I closed my eyes but I could see George and not Tom.