Soon as possible.
What do you say Paul, you think we can get it all up and running in two weeks. Paul was already on his feet. Oh yes. What does that make it. How about the seventh of November, we’ve got nothing on. November seven suit you. Nothing sooner. That’d be the earliest to tell the truth. Mobled. What. November seven. Paul said your commission was twenty two percent. Did he. That sounds a bit high. Doesn’t it. Why don’t we say fourteen percent. Who pays the removalists’ fees. You do. We do.
We do. Alright. November seven then. It’s agreed. Bloody cold for this time of year. All round nodding. Excellent. Well it was truly a pleasure, very kind of you to have us, considering. Thank you for the bubbly. Really charming. Rare such a warm reception. Don’t usually find ourselves in a partie carrée. Paul.
Right.
Well, thank you, goodbye. We’ll be in touch about the removalists. Thank you. ’Bye. Goodbye. ’Bye ’bye. Which way do I turn this. ’Bye for now. Eliza shut the door behind them and sank towards the carpet. Floorboards. There was never any carpet. We looked at. I checked out the window. Are we going to see them again. I don’t know. Our glasses may deceive us in many things. Look what I found in these pants. Eliza crossed to the divan, reached under a seat cushion and dug out the cash for the bookcase, then she thumbed through it twice before letting it patter into a neat stack on that no longer perennial surface for our affairs next to a meniscus of spilt champagne and the champagne cork. Rising like a candle flame buried in the wood. Following her lead I got a tea towel from the kitchen and squilgeed up the mess then I threw the tea towel in the bin. Outside the traffic was building, or had been, once upon a time. Here we go. It’s possible you may be losing your head. Or your handes. That would be a decorous exergue to the principle of separation. Offering baskets of Dead Sea fruit in a cephalophoric procession, on a pier glass. Make way for the square world development. What did I say about lifting apart I seem to recall that was better. Robbed at the Foule Oke. High above the future tumult I straightened my stockings if I hadn’t started ripping my hair out by the roots already, rhetorically. Forget it it’s too late now. In the meantime Eliza had packed the rest of her thing. We came face to face again in the living room. Well. Don’t forget your toothbrush. Some modern touches here and there. Avast. Yes, the stink, that was it. Ab asse. Secreuit. An accepted conceit. Give it back sharper. Pirite’s life for. Never thought to mention the little dents in all the silver. White mane in the coudé. Ripples gone. Pinguis Phrygiae. Hollow bosome. Naught but smelted cannonry and walnut if you ignore the rest. Not to mention my honest cure. It was a flat stone. Thought I’d lost it years ago. See if I can’t garble this with a little thoroughness. Got gloop in my eye, unless that’s the brain evaporating. Make me a rainbow. No, then here I am but tract of something with empty purse above the buried currents, smooth again as the in the oblivious dawn, penitent at least a bit. I think that will do mucking the galley. All these pins and needles almost make you want to jump back off the tortoise I mean the ship of immemorial ivory, go down and then what ah, balanda, this must be the capricious end to photocopying in the dictionary, hack, what, dropsey, I mean the company name, no such thing as clean linen, the false rod runneth under the surly fell of cold, cold dealing if not dissed up to prick the winding sheets, the surd slugs, adhere strictly to the damp in general, sure you were dreamin’ anyhow to count on lacin’ it ’round with your coils the accursed Thing and draggin’ it whole from the hornblende couch or your boke of excelsior or whatever, to whop a stillborn metaphor, supposing if you weren’t stuck here between the media threshing vnderstories for what, der, interrest, it might have been worth something. Obviously not to be transferred. Well. Throws some light on the other fantasmagora. Had a large feeld to ere. Gotta. N. Forth the remnant, no. Moss. Will have it all down soon, the worst of both worlds, unless of course it is there in front of you already on the tip, the right word, on the vanished dustheaps of your abiding haunts. Our templum with its oblique visitors. On solids at least you keep running over your own horseshit footsteps, lutaceous enough to sling behind you but softly on Her heels or She’ll kick you in the. N. Ouch. A more appropriate crop for analysis. This bird guts herself. Must be a comfort in cacology you don’t get from the other especially when it comes up this way with all your secret assets. Still impossible apparently to loosen the chain of. Eliza crossed her arms, eyed the fascicle of withered banknotes on the occasional table and no doubt glanced in my direction. Og in my froat. Ife been serfed! Now then.
Like we agreed.
Yeah in more ways than one she said quite dryly, dropping her knapsack across her wide shoulder and patting her new plaits.
8
e n o w i said. wide. woops. there goes monday. open. cell. whats this made of. bumwool. in my. like a flick. a gen lick. peepers. orgen. molten. before. weaver. after. stardust. or before. nema. when theres no. no little people. and the fulness thereof. sitting in the. blank. it was over me. was in it. as if. them. in them. shiners. get wriggling. i said. no use hiding under there. blank. mother. come on chicken stop rucking under there and get up. time to get up. get up. there she is. theres my baby doll. youre getting too old for this. ooplah. now hurry on. have my hands awfully full today without you playing peekaboo. go on get in there. got to spend it. hear her behind me, lift it, whoop, crack, make it again. no going back now. not for ages. not till its time again. golden.
golden. and there was dad at table already with his cup and his plate half emptied and the newspaper held up by its own starch and two well placed fingers. he bent it down. good morning my girl. it was prickly it looked so smooth from a distance. mother comes bustling up from behind. has the milk come in the dumb waiter. yes my dear and the ice. his hand over his mouth. what was that, mite. what did you say.
i love milk.
my little movie star. we will have to introduce you to the neighbours. check it, dear. so much is contaminated.
i thought id go over to plunkett street later see if i can get something fresh for lunch.
fine. we are so well connected here.
you do like it. and its so modern. they have escapes in the well like ours only in manhattan.
yes it is a new home. i feel at home. it is very close to the office. too large but we will have more family.
it needs filling out.
there will be a big family.
we sold too much from the old place. it was hard to imagine that it would be this big, even after seeing it. it is very fine. the tradesmen have to enter wearing suits. did you know that. they get changed in the basement. mr jones told me and now i see them, calling at the door in baroda street wearing suits.
and you are not afraid.
of what, love.
perhaps these razor gangs. of what do they call it, the dirty half mile. i mean of the people. it has seen better days. such grand houses. they say it was built as an affront and as an example. i suppose that is all behind us now.
and we live in the tallest most modern building and there is music all the time and celebrities and i hear theres a little cinema under the roof, did you hear that, a real little private cinema, and trams direct into town and just look out the window. im sure i dont know what razor gangs want with people like us. thats newspapers for you. why the streets are full of children. dont you like it here, chick.
she is a vedette. she likes the attention. everybody up and down the stairs asking for my mite. ah but you take the lift like a little queen. we are discreet.
and he puts his knuckle under my chin and i look into his pale blue eyes and i see myself.