The Favours and Fortunes of Katie Castle. Rebecca Campbell
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HarperCollinsPublishers 1 london Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF
A Paperback Original 2002
Copyright © Rebecca Campbell 2002
Rebecca Campbell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007117895
Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007571581
Version: 2016-08-03
Contents
Part One: the razing of katie castle
chapter two: in matching knickerbockers
chapter three: cavafy, angel, and the loading bay of doom
chapter four: a technical interlude, concerning
chapter Five: visceral couture
chapter six: how can i deny, she’s mine, i’m hers?
chapter seven: the deed of darkness
chapter eight: a short chapter, punctuated by a colon
chapter ten: in which katie doesn’t cry
chapter eleven: the house of mirth
chapter twelve: the second time as farce
chapter thirteen: katie looks back in languor
Part Two: the three metamorphoses of the spirit
chapter fourteen: katie’s dead-dog bounce
chapter sixteen: katie goes native
chapter seventeen: tea with the ayyubs, a gaudy bullfinch, and other festivities
chapter eighteen: strange meetings
chapter nineteen: a winged victory
chapter twenty: ending in a colon
At five past six, every day, the same question:
‘Katie, what have you done?’
For some people that might have been a question filled with foreboding. You know, what have you done with your life; or look what you’ve screwed up now. But from me, at this time, it always got the same answer, a smart answer:
‘Made coffee, chatted to the girls, tried (and failed) to make the printer print, had my nails done next door at the NY Nail Bar, went for a latte at Gino’s (flashed my second best smile at the divine boy, Dante, but I wouldn’t tell Penny that), chatted some more to the girls, thought about the collection, phoned the factory (why can’t they learn to speak English?), got a sandwich from Cranks, puked it up in the bog, had a spat with the French, sent reminders to Harvey Nicks and the new shop in Harrogate. Just the usual.’
And Penny, breathing exasperation into the phone, always came back with, ‘You know exactly what I mean. What did you do?’
And so I’d give up. ‘Three and a half.’
‘Not bad for a Tuesday.’
‘Bloody