Sunday 7 September 2008

 

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Clemency Burton-Hill
Clemency Burton-Hill

Clemency suggests


Christmas short story

Humiliation

Wednesday, 12th December 2007

The Spectator's short story for the holidays

It took me the rest of the meal to configure the details of my plan and I decided to let 24 hours elapse before I put it into practice. Maltravers and his lady friend drove off in a large Citröen car the following morning. I went for a stroll on the banks of the Dordogne as it flowed smoothly beneath the handsome old bridge that linked Ste. Radegonde with the northern bank. At lunch I went to the Couderc and spoke with Benoît. We talked idly about oysters and the excellent quality of those that came from the bassin at Arcachon. He had asked the patron to order more, he said, Monsieur Maltravers’s extraordinary appetite had to be taken into account. As I left him I picked, unnoticed, a large oyster off the pile he was ready to shuck and wrapped it in my handkerchief before slipping it in my pocket.

In my mean room I laboured to open the oyster with my clasp knife. Abominably difficult: wedging the tip of the knife in the hinge, I levered and swivelled the blade, gashing my knuckles badly on the rough surface of the shell, before the beast yielded and I separated the two halves. Beads of blood swelled on two of my knuckles and I watched a ruby drop fall from my finger on to the pewtery flesh. For a moment it sat there glistening unpleasantly before the saline fluid in the half-shell dissolved it. I placed the semi-closed oyster on the windowsill, covered it with a flat cap and went for an extremely long walk.

I was already established at my table behind the pillar, my meal over, when Maltravers and his lady friend came in after their day-trip. Something about Maltravers’s manner made me think he was in a state of some excitement. He called for champagne, an ice bucket, and of course he ordered a dozen oysters from Benoît. The first dozen went down in the usual minute, champagne was poured and I thought I detected a hand-squeeze between the lovers below the level of the tablecloth.

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