She was rubbing my shoulders. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you. I’ve never wanted anyone so much. I’d never have given myself permission to touch someone like you before.’ Her fist was somewhere in my head. ‘Where did you get that hair?’
I almost said, ‘I saw it in a fridge and bought it, along with everything else you like about me.’ I wondered whether that would matter. Now, at least, I knew something. The world is different for the beautiful. They’re desired, oh yes; other bodies are all over them. But they don’t necessarily like them.
‘Come and see this,’ Patricia said, without a glance at Alicia. ‘A young man will be interested.’
I followed her through the boat to a cabin door. She pushed it. The room within was almost completely dark.
I stepped in. It took a couple of minutes for my eyes to adjust. There must have been about thirty naked people in the room, with a greater proportion of men than women. In a corner, there were Goyaesque mounds of bodies, lost in one another. It was difficult to tell which limb belonged to which body. I wondered whether some of the limbs had become independent of selves, turning into creatures in their own right, arms dancing with legs, perhaps, and torsos alone. There was music, talking, and — a lonely noise — the sound of others’ pleasure.
Patricia tugged at my shirt. ‘Let’s join in.’
‘I’m feeling queasy,’ I said. ‘I’m not used to the … motion.’
‘Where are you going?’
I hurried through the rooms, corridors and decks of the boat, looking for somewhere she wouldn’t find me for a while. For ages I heard her calling my name.
I found a small cabin. Candles were burning; the music was North African. There were oriental cushions, wall hangings, rugs, a lot of velvet. The style amused me, reminding me of the 1960s.
I liked the boat. Why couldn’t I get work as a deckhand? But I was annoyed at having to leave the Centre, where I had expected to spend the rest of my time in this body. But I had got in too far with the people there. It was no longer restful. Whatever happened tonight, I would leave the island in the morning, taking the first boat wherever it went. I would go to another island and find a job in a bar or disco.
I heard footsteps. It wasn’t Patricia, but Matte, the owner of the yacht, in shorts, bright shirt and flip-flops.
‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’
‘Am I in the wrong place?’ I got up. ‘You forgot to set aside a quiet room. It was chaotic and I needed to get away.’
He walked right up to me and stared into my eyes. ‘Always ask first.’
I said, ‘If I had a room, it’d be like this. The mid-sixties has always been one of my favourite periods.’
‘Right. Want a glass of wine now?’
‘If that’s okay. We were introduced, but in case you’ve forgotten, the name’s Leo.’
He said, ‘Matte. Why would someone your age be interested in the sixties?’
‘Must be something to do with my parents. And you?’
He was fixing drinks for both of us. ‘Those days people knew how to have a laugh.’ Cept I was the wrong age.’
His manner of speaking gave me the impression that English wasn’t his first language, but it was impossible to tell where he was from. I’d have been inclined to say, if asked, ‘from nowhere’.
‘Was this your father’s boat?’
His body stiffened. ‘Why the hell should it be?’
‘I’m asking, is it a family possession?’
He said, ‘I hate it when people suggest I haven’t worked, that I’m only a rich playboy. I do play at things — I play at being a playboy — but it’s a vacation, not a vocation.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to think of me as a fool. I’ll get out.’
He came after me and pulled me back roughly. ‘Wait right here. You have to stay now.’
‘Why?’
‘I recognise you from somewhere.’
‘How could we have met? I’m neither a teacher nor student, only a cleaner at the Centre on the island.’
‘Ever been a builder?’
‘No.’
‘Coach driver?’
‘Nope.’
‘I have seen you,’ he continued, screwing up his eyes. ‘It’s not your face that I particularly recognise.’ He walked round me then, as if I were a sculpture. ‘It’ll come back to me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I might look like a hairy idiot but I’ve got perfect vision and an excellent memory.’
He was making me nervous, more nervous, even, than Patricia. He chopped out some generous lines of coke and offered me one.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
He was snorting one himself when there was a knock on the door. It was one of his Thai staff. Matte went to him and then, to my surprise, turned to me.
‘I’m being told that someone called Patricia is looking for you.’
‘Oh, Christ.’
Matte laughed, and said to the man, ‘He can’t be found anywhere at the moment. He’s indisposed.’ He shut the door. ‘She’s after you, eh? Wants your body.’
‘Maybe I should appreciate her appreciation more. There’ll be a time when no one will want to jump my old bones.’
‘The one thing I’ve never wanted is to get old, to see your own skin blotted and withered.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I’m from a big family. As a kid, I hated grandmothers, aunts, old men and women kissing me. Their lips, mouths, breath over me — makes me nearly lose me lunch to think of it.’
I said, ‘I remember my grandmother’s cheeks and hands, her cardigan, her smell, with nothing but love. She had learned things, which made me feel safe. Anyhow, you haven’t been old yet. How do you know you won’t like it?’
‘I haven’t died yet. Or visited Northampton. I just know they won’t agree with me.’
He kept looking at me as though there was something he wanted to know or ask me.
I said, ‘I’ll only be here a minute. All I want to do is relax.’
‘You do that. I’ve got a party to run.’
‘Right.’
Somewhat self-consciously, I turned to look out at the dark sea, hoping that when I turned back he’d be gone. I heard him lock the door. Before I could speak, I was hit, and lost my bearings.
Instinctively, I imagined Matte had struck me from behind, smashing his fist onto the back of my head with some strength. That was how it felt. But he had encircled my neck with his arm, kicked my legs away and forced me to my knees. I thought: now he’s going to shoot me in the back of the head. During this I recalled, incorrectly I hope, a line from Webster: ‘Of all the deaths, a violent one is best.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Leo, shut it! If you keep still I won’t damage you.’
‘Keep still for what?’
He was searching in my hair, not unlike the way I would grab my kids and examine their heads for nits. I said, ‘I never had you down for a madman.’
‘’Scuse me,’ he said, relaxing his grip. ‘I found the mark.’
‘Mark?’
‘Didn’t you know? I guess they like to believe it’s all seamless. You can get up now. How old are you really? No need to pretend. I am nearly eighty. A good age in a man, don’t you think?’
I murmured, ‘You look well.’
‘Thanks. So do you.’
6
He said, ‘Senex bis puer.’
‘An old man is twice a boy?’
‘That’s the one. I’ve just taken up wrestling, along with the kick boxing.’ He put up his hands. ‘Wonderful sport. I’ll show you a few moves later.’