It

over her agent’s strenuous objections. She was a stranger whose lovely face was known to them. He thought Beverly looked particularly curious.
‘We’ve been trying off and on for the last six years,’ Bill said. ‘For the last eight months or so it’s been off, because of the movie we were doing — Attic Room, it’s called.’
‘You know, we run a little entertainment syndic every day from five-fifteen in the afternoon until five-thirty,’ Richie said. ‘Seein’ Stars, it’s called. The y had a feature on that damned movie just last week — Husband and Wife Working Happily Together kind of thing. They said both of your names and I never made the connection. Funny, isn’t it?’
‘Very,’ Bill said. ‘Anyway, Audra said it would be just our luck if she caught pregnant while we were in preproduction and she had to do ten weeks of strenuous acting and being morning –sick at the same time. But we want kids, yes. And we’ve tried quite hard.’ ‘Had fertility tests?’ Ben asked.
‘Uh-huh. Four years ago, in New York. The doctors discovered a very small benign tumor in Audra’s womb, and they said it was a lucky thing because, although it wouldn’t have prevented her from getting pregnant, it might have caused a tubal pregnancy. She and I are both fertile, though.’
Eddie repeated stubbornly, ‘It doesn’t prove a goddam thing.’
‘Suggestive, though,’ Ben murmured.
‘No little accidents on your front, Ben?’ Bill asked. He was shocked and amused to find that his mouth had very nearly called Ben Haystack instead.
‘I’ve never been married, I’ve always been careful, and there have been no paternity suits,’ Ben said. ‘Beyond that I don’t think there’s any real way of telling.’
‘You want to hear a funny story?’ Richie asked. He was smiling, but there was no smile in his eyes.
‘Sure,’ Bill said. ‘You were always good at the funny stuff, Richie.’
‘Your face and me own buttocks, boyo,’ Richie said in the Irish Cop’s Voice. It was a great Irish Cop’s Voice. You’ve improved out of all measure, Richie, Bill thought. As a kid, you couldn’t do an Irish Cop no matter how you busted your brains. Except once . . . or twice . . . when
(the deadlights)
was that?
‘Your face and me own buttocks; just keep rememb ‘rin that com-pay-ri-son, me foine bucko.’
Ben Hanscom suddenly held his nose and cried in a high quavering boyish voice: ‘Beep-beep, Richie! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!’
After a moment, laughing, Eddie held his own nose and joined in. Beverly did the same.
‘Awright! Awright!’ Richie cried, laughing himself. ‘Awright, I give up! Chrissake!’
‘Oh man,’ Eddie said. He collapsed back in his chair, laughing so hard he was almost crying. ‘We gotcha that time, Trashmouth. Way to go, Ben.’
Ben was smiling but he looked a little bewildered.
‘Beep-beep,’ Bev said, and giggled. ‘I forgot all about that. We always used to beep you, Richie.’
‘You guys never appreciated true talent, that’s all,’ Richie said comfortably. As in the old days, you could knock him off-balance, but he wa s like one of those inflatable Joe Palooka dolls with sand in the base — he floated upright again almost at once. ‘That was one of your little contributions to the Losers’ Club, wasn’t it, Haystack?’
‘Yeah, I guess it was.’
‘What a man!’ Richie said in a trembling, awestruck voice and then began to salaam over the table, nearly sticking his nose in his tea-cup each time he went down. ‘What a man! Oh chillun, what a man!’
‘Beep-beep, Richie,’ Ben said solemnly, and then exploded laughter in a he arty baritone utterly unlike his wavering childhood voice. ‘You’re the same old roadrunner.’
You guys want to hear this story or not?’ Richie asked. ‘I mean, no big deal one way or the other. Beep away if you want to. I can take abuse. I mean, you’re looking at a man who once did an interview with Ozzy Osbourne.’
‘Tell it,’ Bill said. He glanced over at Mike and saw that Mike looked happier — or more at rest — since the luncheon had begun. Was it because he saw the almost unconscious knitting-together that was happening, the sort of easy falling — back into old roles that almost never happened when old chums got together? Bill thought so. And he thought, If there are certainpreconditions for the belief in magic that makes it possible to use the magic, then maybe those preconditions will inevitably arrange themselves.