Nick Hornby - High Fidelity

High Fidelity
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Page 56 of 112
6/20/2006
Fifteen
I’m introduced to Anna. Dick brings her to the pub on a night when Barry isn’t around. She’s small,
quiet, polite, anxiously friendly, and Dick obviously adores her. He wants my approval and I can give it
easily, loads of it. Why would I want Dick to be unhappy I wouldn’t. I want him to be as happy as
anybody has ever been. I want him to show the rest of us that it is possible to maintain a relationship and
a large record collection simultaneously.
“Has she got a friend for me” I ask Dick.
Normally, of course, I wouldn’t refer to Anna in the third person while she’s sitting with us, but I have
an excuse: my question is both endorsement and allusion, and Dick smiles happily in recognition.
“Richard Thompson,” he explains to Anna. “It’s a song off a Richard Thompson album. ‘I Want to
See the Bright Lights Tonight,’ isn’t it, Rob”
“Richard Thompson,” Anna repeats, in a voice which suggests that over the last few days she has had
to absorb a lot of information very quickly. “Now, which one was he Dick’s been trying to educate
me.”
“I don’t think we’ve got up to him yet,” says Dick. “Anyway, he’s a folk/rock singer and England’s
finest electric guitarist. Would you say that’s right, Rob” He asks the question nervously; if Barry were
here, he’d take great pleasure in shooting Dick down at this point.
“That’s right, Dick,” I reassure him. Dick nods with relief and satisfaction.
“Anna’s a Simple Minds fan,” Dick confides, emboldened by his Richard Thompson success.
“Oh, right.” I don’t know what to say. This, in our universe, is a staggering piece of information. We
hate Simple Minds. They were number one in our Top Five Bands or Musicians Who Will Have to Be
Shot Come the Musical Revolution. (Michael Bolton, U2, Bryan Adams, and, surprise surprise, Genesis
were tucked in behind them. Barry wanted to shoot the Beatles, but I pointed out that someone had
already done it.) It is as hard for me to understand how he has ended up with a Simple Minds fan as it
would be to fathom how he had paired off with one of the royal family, or a member of the shadow
cabinet: it’s not the attraction that baffles so much as how on earth they got together in the first place.
“But I think she’s beginning to understand why she shouldn’t be. Aren’t you”
“Maybe. A bit.” They smile at each other. It’s kind of creepy, if you think about it.
It’s Liz who stops me phoning Laura all the time. She takes me to the Ship and gives me a good
talking-to.
“You’re really upsetting her,” she says. “And him.”
“Oh, like I really care about him.”
“Well, you should.”
“Why”
“Because … because all you’re doing is forming a little unit, them against you. Before you started all
this, there was no unit. There were just three people in a mess. And now they’ve got something in
common, and you don’t want to make it any worse.”
“And why are you so bothered I thought I was an arse-hole.”
“Yeah, well, so is he. He’s an even bigger arsehole, and he hasn’t done anything wrong yet.”
“Why is he an arsehole”
“You know why he’s an arsehole.”
“How do you know I know why he’s an arsehole”
“Because Laura told me.”
“You had a conversation about what I thought was wrong with her new boyfriend How did you get
onto that”
“We went the long way round.”
“Take me there the quick way.”
“You won’t like it.”