This went back-and-forth like a live grenade. Pennyβs mother lives and is sentient β so it was an easily provable case. But before that delicious phone call was made Ambrose backed down, reluctantly accepting Penny was more likely to be right about the obstetric escapades of her mum than he was and not wanting to hear the old girlβs wasp-in-a-bottle tirade from an iPhone. Youβd think a gynaecologist would be less β¦ approximate than to declare five caesareans for a woman whoβs had none.
Minutes later, we were talking about a mutual friend, and I asked after her brother, Dennis. βDead,β said Ambrose. βDid away with himself, must be three years ago now.β
Penny is frequently aghast at Ambrose. Routinely aghast, if such a thing is possible. And was aghast again. (Might being aghast take off as a health kick? Iβm no cardiologist, but Iβll bet itβs invigorating. Penny looks years younger than she is.)
βOMG, Ambroseβ¦ Heβs alive and well.β
βNo. He ended it all. Very sad β but there you are.β
βSueβs my best friend. I think Iβd know if her brother was dead.β
βMaybe have a look at what sort of best friend you are,β he said.
With this getting heated I phoned Sue. βHi, just a quick one, is Dennis β¦ Howβs Dennis going?β She told me he was still a prick. βOK, then. Just checking. Ambrose reckons he did himself in three years ago.β βWell, tell f—ing Ambrose to take some interest in my conversation once in a while.β
Having ended the call, I said, βBro, youβre not having a good morning. The brotherβs alive and unchanged.β βWonderful,β he exclaimed, as if Iβd just ordered a resurrection from Uber Eats.
He left us then, his whippet and corgi towing him and his misrememberings away along the pier like huskies hauling a sled piled with muskrat pelts. These days people seek the company of Ambrose and Penny just to be entertained by their contending memories. But theyβre not an unusual couple. Many a night Iβve recalled some event vividly, bet my life against Sarahβs memory, and lost.