S MAGAZINE ★ 4 AUGUST 2019 57
simple. Quickest to shout out the
correct answer wins. Ready?
Which part of St Paul’s Cathedral
is famed for its acoustics?”
It was on the tip of Alex’s tongue
just as he saw his opponent
properly for the first time. And
maybe it was the way she held her
hands slightly inside her sleeves,
or the sprinkling of freckles on her
cheeks, or the way she was biting
her lip, or all of it together, but
suddenly Alex had the feeling that
if she would just look up at him,
even for the briefest of moments,
everything was going to be fine.
The boy was staring at Sophie
with such a strange expression
that she nearly burst out laughing.
But then his eyes softened and he
smiled, and it all made sense.
Hope began to spread through her,
sweeping her sadness aside.
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
“Have a stab, someone?” the
quizmaster said, exasperated.
“The Whispering Gallery,” Sophie
said, at exactly the same time as
the boy. There was a pause. “So...
what happens now?” the boy said,
not taking his eyes off her.Richard Roper’s debut novel,
Something To Live For (Orion
£12.99), is out now. See Express
Bookshop on page 77.sighed and pocketed his phone.
“Listen, you’re a nice, handsome
boy, but you’re also, with the
greatest respect, a buffoon. You
have to stop moping. I bet you’re
this close to writing poetry and
I simply refuse to let that happen.
You need to get out there and start
living your life, OK?”
“OK,” Alex said. “Right.” Meg
hoisted him to his feet. “With that
in mind, it turns out we’re joint first
and there’s a tie-break question.
And you’re going up to answer.”
Sophie was in the toilet cubicle,
fighting a losing battle with her
tear ducts. Marc wasn’t a bad
person, but she didn’t love him.
Not really. She could’ve escaped.
But it was too late now. She’d
made her bed and in it was a man
with receding hair and subscriptions
to three car magazines. As she
wiped mascara from her cheeks
and practised her “No, I’m fine,
honestly” smile, she heard Ella
outside, hesitantly calling her
name, saying something about
a tie-break. Before she knew it she
was standing by the quizmaster as
Daryl tried to advise on tactics.
Alex made his way over. His
opponent was facing away as
a man in a bad suit whispered
urgently in her ear. “Right,” the
quizmaster said. “Rules arewhen she’d woken in her flat the
next morning. Seconds later, its
owner had come into her room
brandishing a bacon sandwich.
“Morning,” he said, handing her
the plate. “Thanks, um...” “It’s
Marc. With a c,” he added, slightly
deflated. “Right. Well, thanks for
this, but...,” she set the plate on
the bedside table. “My head feels
a bit like a fruitcake in a tumble
dryer and everything, so...”
“I’ll go out for coffee,” Marc
said. Sophie was too tired to
protest. She closed her eyes and
felt him tucking her in with swift
expertise, like he was a squirrel
and she a nut he was burying for
winter. And then before she knew
it he was always just... there,
every evening, standing in her
kitchen in a novelty apron.
“Oh, you are lucky,” her mum
had said. “Marc’s so reliable.” Like
a microwave, Sophie thought. Or
an experienced sheepdog.
Alex had lost interest in the
quiz. The booze was making him
maudlin. He didn’t want to marry
an owl in the woods, he just
wanted Beth back. Maybe he’d
call her right there and then.
How’s that for spontaneous?
“Alex, you’ve got that look in
your eye like you’re about to do
© RICHARD R something mad,” Meg said. AlexOPER 2019 / ILLUSTRATION: GETTY IMAGESAnswers come when you least expect them Story by Richard Roper
S
o this is how I die, Alex
thought. Bludgeoned
to death because I don’t
know who sang Yes Sir,
I Can Boogie. The pub
quiz had been a spontaneous
decision. The usually affable
Barney now had a murderous look
on his face. The quizmaster, an
out-of-work actor with floppy hair,
picked up his microphone.
“Question nine: What is the
capital of Uzbekistan?”
“Tashkent,” Alex whispered.
“Nice,” Barney said, looking
slightly less furious. “Impressive,”
Meg said. Alex shrugged. He and
Beth had been on their “fake gap
year.” Sleeping under the stars.
Green tea with the sunrise. His
head buried in the guidebook.
Beth imploring him to be more
spontaneous, disappointment
semipermanent on her face.
They’d been broken up six
months, but she was still the first
thing he thought of each morning.
If he didn’t meet someone soon
he was going to retreat into the
woods and become a recluse,
tilling the land and taking an owl
as his wife.
Four tables away, Sophie was
warming to her theme. “You know
what else is rubbish? Baseball.
I went to a game once – the
Cincinnati Turnips versus the
Idaho Clarinets, or whatever. It all
boiled down to 20,000 sunburnt
men eating hotdogs the size of
Bournemouth while some sport
vaguely happened nearby.”
She clocked the reproachful
glances of Daryl and Ella, her only
colleagues who’d shown up.
“Question 20: ‘It’s late in the
evening; she’s wondering what to
wear’ is the first line of which
song?” Sophie’s heart sank.
Wonderful Tonight. Marc had
chosen it for their first dance. She
hated the song but it was easier
to go along with it. Just like she’d
gone along with everything since
the day they’d met in the bar she’d
gone to the evening her parents
revealed they’d separated.
She had a hazy memory of
bumping into someone, a ribbon
of wine escaping her glass and on
to his shirt, which was the first
thing she’d seen, folded on a chair,The Pub Quiz
FICTION
●S