Being English

Margaret was sitting at a table outside the Austral Hotel, having a drink on her own.

A young man in a bright green t-shirt came out of the hotel in a hurry and began looking around.

He came up to Margaret.

Are you English? he asked.

No, said Margaret.

Damn! said the young man. I don't believe it! There's always somebody English.

I'm sure there is, said Margaret.

There isn't! said the young man. And my show starts in five minutes! I don't suppose you would do me a favour and pretend to be English? I'll give you a free ticket to my show.

What's your show? asked Margaret, feeling just a little excited.

The Five Step Guide to Being German, said the young man. In the Bunka. My name is Paco Erhard.

You don't sound German, said Margaret doubtfully.

I live in London, said Paco.

Oh, said Margaret. Alright Paco. I'll do it. My name is Margaret.

Brilliant, said Paco. A lovely English name. Come inside Margaret. Here's your ticket. Sit near the back and I'll pick you out. Whatever I say to you don't be offended. Don't forget you're supposed to be English.

Margaret went inside. She sat near the back. It was hot in the Bunka. The black curtains billowed in the breeze from the fans. Through a high window a red neon sign spelled out CROWN. Most of the seats were filled. People were chattering. She tried to channel her mother, who was English.