‘I entirely agree,’ Chippy said.
‘Waiter,’ Blackwhite called. ‘I believe you have forgotten our hosts.’
‘Sorry, gentlemen. For you?’
‘But if you are interested, Pablo and his boys are a painting group. They work together at the same time on one canvas.’
‘Steak tartare. Like the Italians. Or the Dutch.’
‘Steak tartare. One man painting the face.’
‘Steak tartare. The other painting the scenery. Steak tartare. What am I saying? Just a salad.’
‘Not quite,’ Blackwhite said. ‘This is more an experiment in recovering the tribal subconscious.’
‘Shall we say, en vinaigrette?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know about Jung and the racial memory.’
‘With vinegar.’
‘That’s just about how I feel.’
‘They have produced some very interesting results. A sort of artistic stream-of-consciousness relay. But in paint. A sort of continuous mutual interference.’
‘This sounds very interesting, Mr White,’ Bippy said.
‘We don’t want to offend Pablo,’ Tippy said.
‘Or Sandro or Pedro,’ Chippy added.
‘But we have to be sure, Mr White.’
‘Foundationland has its own rules, Mr White.’
‘Mr White, we have to write reports.’
‘Mr White, help us.’
‘Mr White, we have made this journey to see you.’
‘I don’t know, gentlemen. We can’t just brush off Pablo and his boys just like that. An appropriate word, don’t you think? Let us see how they feel.’
Bippy, Tippy and Chippy looked at Pablo, Sandro and Pedro.
‘Ask them,’ Blackwhite said. ‘Go on, ask them.’
‘What do you feel about this, Mr Pablo?’ Bippy asked.
‘If any money going, give it to Blackwhite,’ Pablo said.
‘Give it to Mr White,’ Sandro said.
‘Is what I say too,’ said Pedro.
‘You see, Mr White,’ Chippy said. ‘You must shoulder your responsibilities. We appreciate your desire to nurse struggling talent. But—’
‘Exactly,’ said Tippy.
Blackwhite didn’t look disappointed.
The food came. Pablo and his friends began sawing. Blackwhite scooped avocado, poured wine.
Blackwhite said, ‘I didn’t want it to appear that I was pushing myself forward. I wanted you to meet Pablo and his boys because I thought you might want to encourage something new. I feel that you chaps have got quite enough out of me as it is.’
There was a little dismissing laughter. I swallowed oysters. Leonard peeled prawns.
‘And also,’ Blackwhite went on, ‘because I felt that you might not be altogether happy with the experimental work I have on hand.’
‘Experimental?’ Tippy said.
‘Oh, this sounds good,’ Leonard said.
‘Gentlemen, no artist should repeat himself. My interracial romances, though I say it myself, have met with a fair amount of esteem, indeed acclaim.’
‘Indeed,’ said Bippy, Tippy and Chippy.
‘Gentlemen, before you say anything, listen. I have decided to abandon the problem.’
‘This is good,’ Leonard said. ‘This is very good.’
‘How do we abandon the problem?’ Blackwhite said.
Pablo reached forward and lifted up a wine bottle. It was empty. He held it against the light and shook it. Chippy took the bottle from him and set it on the table. ‘There is nothing more there,’ he said.
‘I have thought about this for a long time. I think I should move with the times.’
‘Good old Blackwhite,’ I said.
‘I want,’ Blackwhite said, ‘to write a novel about a black man.’
‘Oh, good,’ Leonard said.
‘A novel about a black man falling in love.’
‘Capital,’ said Bippy, Tippy and Chippy.
‘With a black woman.’
‘Mr White!’
‘Mr White!’
‘Mr White!’
‘I thought you would be taken aback,’ Blackwhite said. ‘But I would regard such a novel as the statement of a final emancipation.’
‘It’s a terrific idea,’ Leonard said.
‘Tremendous problems, of course,’ Blackwhite said.
‘Mr White!’ Bippy said.
‘We have to write too,’ said Chippy.
‘Our reports,’ said Tippy.
‘Calm down boys,’ Bippy said. ‘Mr White, you couldn’t tell us how you are going to treat this story?’
‘That’s my difficulty,’ Blackwhite said.
‘Your difficulty,’ Chippy said. ‘What about ours?’
‘Black boy meets black girl,’ Tippy said.
‘They fall in love,’ said Bippy.
‘And have some black children,’ said Chippy.
‘Mr White, that’s not a story.’
‘It’s more like the old-fashioned coon show. The thing we’ve been fighting against.’
‘You’ll have the liberals down your throat.’
‘You will get us the sack. Mr White, look at it from our point of view.’
‘Calm down, boys. Let me talk to him. This is a strange case of regression, Mr White.’
‘I’ll say. You’ve regressed right back to Uncle Remus, right back to Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox.’
‘Do us another Hate and we’ll support you to the hilt.’
‘Give us more of the struggler, Mr White.’
‘Calm down boys. Much depends on the treatment, of course. The treatment is everything in a work of art.’
‘Of course,’ Blackwhite said, scooping up the bonne femme sauce from the dish in the waiter’s reverential hand.
‘I don’t know. You might just work something. You might have the black man rescued from a bad white woman.’
‘Or the black woman rescued from a bad white man.’
‘Or something.’
‘We’ve got to be careful,’ Blackwhite said. ‘I have gone into this thing pretty thoroughly. I don’t want to offend any ethnic group.’
‘What do you mean, Mr White?’
‘He is right,’ Leonard said. ‘Mr White, I think you are terrific.’
‘Thank you, Leonard. And also, I was toying with the idea of having a bad black man as my hero. Just toying.’
‘Mr White!’
‘Mr White!’
‘Mr White!’
‘I am sorry. I have used a foolish word. One gets into such a way of talking. Reducing the irreducible to simple terms. I don’t mean bad. I just mean ordinary.’
‘Mr White!’
‘Calm down, Tippy.’
‘What do you mean, Mr White? Someone bad at ball games?’
‘And tone deaf?’
‘You just want a cripple,’ Leonard said.
‘The thought occurred to me too, Leonard,’ Blackwhite said. ‘They just want a cripple.’
‘Who the hell said anything about a cripple?’
‘Calm down, Bippy.’
‘Kid,’ Chippy said. ‘Forgive me for talking to you like this. But you are committing suicide. You’ve built up a nice little reputation. Why go and throw it away now for the sake of a few crazy ideas?’
‘Why don’t you go home and write us another Shadowed Livery?’
‘Do us another Hate.’
Leonard said, ‘I intend to support you, Mr White.’
Blackwhite said, ‘I am rather glad this has turned out as it has. I believe I understand you gentlemen and what you stand for. It mightn’t be a bad idea, after all, for you to extend your patronage to Pablo and his boys.’
‘Anything to follow, Mr White?’ the waiter said. ‘A zabaglione? Crème de marrons?’
‘I require nothing but the bill,’ Blackwhite said. ‘Though those boys look as though they require feeding.’ He nodded towards Pablo and his friends.