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CHAPTER 27

  Louise Palmer was at the house when Eldred returned. Mildred was annoyed with her, Eldred could tell, for arriving at teatime. Eldred was delighted.

  'Good news, Eldred,’ Louise said, immediately he came through the door.

  'What?’ Eldred asked.

  'Don't say what, Eldred,’ said his mother. 'You should say pardon.’

  'I meant, what’s the good news?‘ said Eldred patiently.

  'Wash your hands,’ said Mildred. 'Before you start your tea,’ she added pointedly, looking at Louise.

  'I won't keep you long,’ Louise promised.

  Eldred seethed. What did it matter what time they had tea? Who would want to eat mince and mash when they could talk to Louise?

  'I'll have my tea later,’ he told Mildred, rinsing his hands perfunctorily at the kitchen sink. 'You and Dad have yours and I'll talk to Louise.’

  Mildred's lips tightened. 'You'll do as you're told,’ she said. 'Tea won't be ready yet for ten minutes anyhow.’

  Eldred knew she was lying. Tea was always ready at six o'clock on the dot. If the plates were put on the table at five past six, his father would say, 'Running late today, Mother?’ and if it was five to six Edgar would say, 'Early tea, Mother? What's the rush?’

  The News was always on at teatime but nobody was supposed to let on that they were watching it, because Mildred insisted that eating meals in front of the telly caused the destruction of family life and values. So although the television was left on, Mildred and Edgar only gave it surreptitious sideways glances when the news item changed, and Eldred, whose chair faced the window, was scolded every time he turned round to look at the screen. 'Concentrate on your meal,’ Mildred would say, though a second later, when Eldred bad something to say, she would make faces at him to keep quiet because Edgar was listening to something the newscaster was saying.

  So Eldred knew that Louise Palmer had walked into a minefield by calling on the Joneses at teatime and that the tension would build until the moment she left. Louise, presumably coming from a family where the mealtime routine was not so fixed, seemed unaware that she only had ten minutes in which to say all the important things, and was making small talk to Mildred. Eldred's hands clenched and unclenched.

  As soon as Louise paused for breath, Eldred said, 'What's the good news?’ and she smiled.

  'Two lots of good news,’ she said. 'First, the Telegraph bought my article about you, Eldred, and second, I've brought the registration forms from the Patents Office. I'll give you a hand to fill them in.’

  'Eldred's father can fill in forms for him,’ said Mildred quickly. Edgar cleared his throat and looked out of the window.

  'Oh,’ said Louise, 'I'm sure, but there is a specific procedure for applying for a patent and it helps to know what they're looking for. For example, you must be able to detail exactly what advantages this piece of equipment has over others already on the market.’

  'We can sort all that out,’ Edgar said.

  Eldred was watching Louise's face. 'What do you think I ought to put?’ he asked.

  'Well, as far as I've been able to ascertain,’ Louise said, 'the most remarkable aspect of your machine, Eldred, is the speed at which it converts the waste matter to usable material. The current models are much slower.’

  'But I can't say for sure how long it takes,’ said Eldred anxiously. 'I haven't talked to Bruce Mackeson about making the prototype. Don't you have to have a working model or something, to get the patent?

  'No, just a detailed description and diagrams,’ Louise reassured him. 'Don't worry, Eldred. Just an estimate of the time will do fine. You know roughly how long the process takes, don't you?’

  'Between thirty-six and forty-eight hours for the domestic model,’ said Eldred, 'but longer for the industrial one, of course. As long as a week perhaps.’

  'That's still quick,’ Louise said. She smiled at Edgar and Mildred, who were looking bemused. 'You must be very proud of him,’ she said.

  Edgar cleared his throat again. 'What exactly does this machine do, Eldred?’

  Eldred was reading the forms and didn't hear him. Louise, sensing tension in the room now, handed Edgar a few sheets of typescript. 'A copy of my article on Eldred,’ she said. 'I thought you might like to read it before it's published.’

  'I'll read it after tea,’ Edgar said. 'The time's getting on a bit.’

  'Would you like me to leave all this with you and come back another time?’ Louise suggested.

  'That would be best,’ said Mildred. 'We're about to have tea, you see.’

  'What does it matter,’ said Eldred, without raising his head from the Patents Office application, 'what time we have tea? You and Dad can have yours while Louise and I do this.’

  Edgar grew red in the face. He shot a furious glance at Mildred, who said, 'Eldred, go to your room. I'm not going to tell you off in front of visitors, but you know well enough not to speak to Dad like that.’

  Eldred looked up in alarm. 'What did I say?’ he asked.

  'That's enough, Eldred,’ said Mildred. Just go.’

  Eldred gathered up the forms and prepared to leave the room.

  'You can leave that stuff here,’ said Edgar. 'I'll deal with it later for you.’

  Eldred's eyes were full of tears.

  'I can see I've inconvenienced you, Mr Jones,’ said Louise. 'I didn't mean to intrude. May I call back for the forms another day? Tomorrow, at whatever time suits you?’

  'The weekend is best,’ said Edgar gruffly. 'Weekday evenings are inconvenient for us. We're working people.’

  Eldred had so much to say that he couldn't say anything, not even goodbye to Louise. In his room later on that evening, Mildred found him sitting at his desk staring at the blank computer screen.

  'There's no need for sulking,’ she said. 'It's all forgiven and forgotten now, Eldred. I've kept your tea for you. Come and have it in the kitchen.’