Monday, 4 November 2019 - Morning 20th Century Literature Reading and Creative Prose Writing
Monday, 4 November 2019 - Morning 20th Century Literature Reading and Creative Prose Writing
Monday, 4 November 2019 - Morning 20th Century Literature Reading and Creative Prose Writing
C700U10-1A A19-C700U10-1A
SECTION A: 40 marks
In this story, the narrator meets by chance a woman he first met a long time ago.
1 I caught sight of her at a play and I went over during the interval and sat beside her.
It was a long time since I had last seen her and I hardly recognised her. She addressed
me brightly.
‘Well, it’s been many years since we met. Do you remember? You asked me to lunch.’
5 Did I remember?
It was twenty years ago. In those days I was living in a tiny flat in London, earning
barely enough money to survive. She had read a book of mine and had written to me
about it. She said she was passing through London and wanted to have a little chat with
me. She was spending Thursday morning in the city and would I like to take her to lunch
10 at the Grand?
The Grand was so far beyond my means that I had never even thought of going there.
But I was flattered and I was too young to have learned to say no to a woman. I had
eighty pounds to last me the rest of the month but I thought if I cut out coffee for the next
two weeks I could manage well enough.
15 When she arrived, she was not as young as I expected and she was imposing in
appearance rather than attractive. She gave me the impression of having more teeth
than were necessary for any practical purpose. I was startled when the menu arrived as
the prices were a good deal higher than I had hoped. But she reassured me.
‘I never eat anything for lunch,’ she said.
20 ‘Oh, don’t say that,’ I said generously.
‘I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat too much these days. A little fish
perhaps. I wonder if they have any lobster.’
I gulped at the thought of how much it would cost. I asked the waiter apprehensively
and, yes, they had a beautiful lobster. I ordered it for my guest and the waiter asked if
25 she would like something while it was being cooked.
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I never eat more than one thing. Unless you have a little smoked
salmon.’
My heart sank. I knew I could not afford smoked salmon but I told the waiter to bring
some and for myself I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a lamb chop.
30 ‘I think you are unwise to eat meat for lunch,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe in overloading
my stomach.’
Then came the question of drink.
‘I never drink anything for lunch,’ she said.
‘Neither do I,’ I answered promptly.
35 ‘Except white wine,’ she added as though I had not spoken. ‘These white wines are
so light.’
‘What would you like?’ I asked, still polite but not exactly enthusiastic.
She flashed a smile and said, ‘My doctor won’t let me drink anything but champagne.’
I think I turned rather pale but I ordered half a bottle and mentioned casually that my
40 doctor had absolutely forbidden me to drink champagne. I ordered water.
She ate the lobster and the smoked salmon and talked about literature and music.
I wondered what the bill would come to. When my lamb chop arrived she made her
disapproval very clear.
‘I see that you are in the habit of eating a heavy lunch. I’m sure it’s a mistake. You
45 should follow my example and just eat one thing. I’m sure you’d feel better for it.’
‘I am only going to eat one thing,’ I said, as the waiter returned with the menu.
She waved him aside.
‘No. I never eat anything for lunch. Just a bite. I eat as an excuse for conversation
and I couldn’t possibly eat anything more unless you have some giant asparagus. I’d be
50 sorry to leave London without having some of them.’
My heart sank. They were horribly expensive. My mouth had often watered at the
sight of them in shops.
A happy smile spread over the face of the waiter and he assured us that they had
some so large and splendid that it was a miracle.
55 ‘I’m not in the least hungry,’ my guest sighed, ‘but if you insist I don’t mind having
asparagus.’
I ordered them.
‘Aren’t you going to have any?’ she asked.
‘No, I never eat asparagus,’ I replied.
60 ‘I know there are people who don’t like them. The fact is, you ruin your appetite with
all the meat you eat.’
Panic seized me. It was not a question of how much money I would have for the rest
of the month but whether I could pay the bill. It would be so embarrassing to find myself
ten pounds short and have to borrow from my guest. I could not bring myself to do that.
65 The only thing would be to leave my watch and say I would come back and pay later.
The asparagus appeared and they were enormous, succulent and appetising. I
watched the woman thrust them down her throat in large mouthfuls. At last she finished.
‘Coffee?’ I asked.
‘Just a coffee and an ice cream,’ she answered. I was past caring now so I ordered
70 two coffees and an ice cream for her.
‘You know, there’s one thing I thoroughly believe in,’ she said as she devoured the ice
cream. ‘One should always get up from a meal feeling one could eat a little more.’
‘Are you still hungry?’ I asked faintly.
‘Oh, no, I’m not hungry. You see, I don’t eat lunch. I was talking about you.’
75 Then a terrible thing happened. The waiter approached carrying a basket of huge
peaches. Surely they were not in season? God alone knew what they would cost.
Casually, my guest took one. ‘You see, you’ve filled your stomach with a lot of meat
and you can’t eat any more. But I’ve just had a snack so I shall enjoy a peach.’
The bill came and I had just enough to pay it and leave a quite inadequate tip. Her
80 eyes rested on the two pounds I had left for the waiter and I knew she thought that I was
mean. However, when I walked out of the restaurant I had the rest of the month before
me and not a penny in my pocket.
‘Follow my example,’ she said as we shook hands, ‘and never eat more than one thing
for lunch.’
But I have had my revenge at last. I do not believe that I am a spiteful man but I would
86 merely point out that today she weighs twenty-one stone.
W. Somerset Maugham