Anansi Boys

I thought you said you were going to tell me something important.

His father clutched his chest, and he collapsed onto the sand and stopped moving. Worms came out of the sand and devoured him in moments, leaving nothing but bones.

Dad?

Fat Charlie woke up in his bedroom with his cheeks wet with tears. Then he stopped crying. He had nothing to be upset about. His father had not died; it had simply been a bad dream.

He decided that he would invite Rosie over tomorrow night. They would have steak. He would cook. All would be well.

He got up and got dressed.

He was in the kitchen, twenty minutes later, spooning down a Pot Noodle, when it occurred to him that, although what had happened on the beach had been a dream, his father was still dead.

ROSIE STOPPED IN AT HER MOTHER’S FLAT IN WIMPOLE STREET, late that afternoon.

“I saw your boyfriend today,” said Mrs. Noah. Her given name had been Eutheria, but in the previous three decades nobody had used it to her face but her late husband, and following his death it had atrophied and was unlikely to be used again in her lifetime.

“So did I,” said Rosie. “My god I love that man.”

“Well, of course. You’re marrying him, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes. I mean, I always knew I loved him, but today I really saw how much I loved him. Everything about him.”

“Did you find out where he was last night?”

“Yes. He explained it all. He was out with his brother.”

“I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“He hadn’t mentioned him before. They aren’t very close.”

Rosie’s mother clicked her tongue. “Must be quite a family reunion going on. Did he mention his cousin, too?”

“Cousin?”

“Or maybe his sister. He didn’t seem entirely sure. Pretty thing, in a trashy sort of way. Looked a bit Chinese. No better than she should be, if you ask me. But that’s that whole family for you.”

“Mum. You haven’t met his family.”

“I met her. She was in his kitchen this morning, walking about that place damn near naked. Shameless. If she was his cousin.”

“Fat Charlie wouldn’t lie.”

“He’s a man isn’t he?”

“Mum!”

“And why wasn’t he at work today, anyway?”

“He was. He was at work today. We had lunch together.”

Rosie’s mother examined her lipstick in a pocket mirror, then, with her forefinger, rubbed the scarlet smudges off her teeth.

“What else did you say to him?” asked Rosie.

“We just talked about the wedding, how I didn’t want his best man making one of them near-the-knuckle speeches. He looked to me like he’d been drinking. You know how I warned you about marrying a drinking man.”

“Well, he looked perfectly fine when I saw him,” said Rosie primly. Then, “Oh Mum, I had the most wonderful day. We walked and we talked and—oh, have I told you how wonderful he smells? And he has the softest hands.”