Nick Hornby - High Fidelity

High Fidelity
http://www.fictionbook.ru/author/hornby_nick/high_fidelity/hornby_high_fidelity.html
Page 28 of 112
6/20/2006
Her house is enormous, the sort of place that seems to have meandered to Wood Green from another
part of London, and she’s not very nice. She’s mid-to-late forties, with a dodgy tan and a suspiciously
taut-looking face; and though she’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, the jeans have the name of an Italian
where the name of Mr. Wrangler or Mr. Levi should be, and the T-shirt has a lot of jewelry stuck to the
front of it, arranged in the shape of a CND sign.
She doesn’t smile, or offer me a cup of coffee, or ask me whether I found the place OK despite the
freezing, driving rain that prevented me from seeing my A-Z in front of my face. She just shows me into
a study off the hall, turns the light on, and points out the singles—there are hundreds of them, all in
custom-made wooden boxes—on the top shelf, and leaves me to get on with it.
There are no books on the shelves that line the walls, just albums, CDs, cassettes, and hi-fi equipment;
the cassettes have little numbered stickers on them, always a sign of a serious person. There are a couple
of guitars leaning against the walls, and some sort of computer that looks as though it might be able to
do something musical if you were that way inclined.
I climb up on a chair and start pulling the singles boxes down. There are seven or eight in all, and,
though I try not to look at what’s in them as I put them on the floor, I catch a glimpse of the first one in
the last box: it’s a James Brown single on King, thirty years old, and I begin to prickle with anticipation.
When I start going through them properly, I can see straightaway that it’s the haul I’ve always
dreamed of finding, ever since I began collecting records. There are fan-club-only Beatles singles, and
the first half-dozen Who singles, and Elvis originals from the early sixties, and loads of rare blues and
soul singles, and … there’s a copy of ‘God Save the Queen’ by the Sex Pistols on A&M! Ihave never
even seen one of these! I have never even seen anyone who’s seen one! And oh no oh no oh God—‘You
Left the Water Running’ by Otis Redding, released seven years after his death, withdrawn immediately
by his widow because she didn’t …
“What d’you reckon” She’s leaning against the door frame, arms folded, half smiling at whatever
ridiculous face I’m making.
“It’s the best collection I’ve ever seen.” I have no idea what to offer her. This lot must be worth at
least six or seven grand, and she knows it. Where am I going to get that kind of money from
“Give me fifty quid and you can take every one away with you today.”
I look at her. We’re now officially in Joke Fantasy Land, where little old ladies pay good money to
persuade you to cart off their Chippendale furniture. Except I am not dealing with a little old lady, and
she knows perfectly well that what she has here is worth a lot more than fifty quid. What’s going on
“Are these stolen”
She laughs. “Wouldn’t really be worth my while, would it, lugging all this lot through someone’s
window for fifty quid No, they belong to my husband.”
“And you’re not getting on too well with him at the moment”
“He’s in Spain with a twenty-three-year-old. A friend of my daughter’s. He had the fucking cheek to
phone up and ask to borrow some money and I refused, so he asked me to sell his singles collection and
send him a check for whatever I got, minus ten percent commission. Which reminds me. Can you make
sure you give me a five pound note I want to frame it and put it on the wall.”
“They must have taken him a long time to get together.”
“Years. This collection is as close as he has ever come to an achievement.”
“Does he work”
“He calls himself a musician, but … ” She scowls her disbelief and contempt. “He just sponges off me
and sits around on his fat arse staring at record labels.”
Imagine coming home and finding your Elvis singles and your James Brown singles and your Chuck
Berry singles flogged off for nothing out of sheer spite. What would you do What would you say
“Look, can’t I pay you properly You don’t have to tell him what you got. You could send the fortyfive
quid anyway, and blow the rest. Or give it to charity. Or something.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal. I want to be poisonous but fair.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s just … I don’t want any part of this.”
“Suit yourself. There are plenty of others who will.”