He asked her how she read her love now, as devotion, or the siren call of masochism?
‘Until you said it, I thought it was the first. Now you tell me.’
Self-sacrifice would be the hardest addiction to shift. He said, ‘Mamoon felt uneasy, with all that relentless love and possessiveness coming at him.’
‘That’s what you would feel. I know some puny men are afraid of women. But why would you say that about him?’
‘He fled.’
‘So he’s the victim here, after all.’
He said, ‘I guess it’s wonderful to fall in love, but falling out of it, losing the illusion — now there’s a necessary art, which might profitably be learned.’
‘I suppose that is what you will write. I must do my book then.’ She sighed. ‘I seem to have ruined my life, and you appear to have saved yours.’
‘Not so fast,’ he said. ‘My girlfriend and I did a test back in London, and she’s having a child. We talked about children, but never agreed on anything definite. Myself, I still feel I’m an adolescent.’
‘You’re mis-recognising yourself,’ she said. ‘That is very dangerous.’
‘How to see straight?’
‘That is the thing.’
‘How, how?’
‘It’s been done already, the straight seeing,’ she said. ‘You’ve seen. Now you cover it up. You hide yourself from yourself.’ She kissed him. ‘Don’t forget, conventionally, you actually have what most people want. Send me a picture of the little one.’
Nineteen
Harry guessed there was something wrong with Rob when, the afternoon after his return to London, Rob suggested they meet in the frantic bar of a railway station. It was not the case that Rob was intending to take a journey: he said he only liked ‘anonymous places’ or ‘non-spaces’ now. As soon as they met, Rob commented on the number of anxious bodies rushing around them, saying how the limbs had lost contact with their owners and resembled electrified stumps.
Rob had been drinking and was sweaty and shaking excessively, even for him. He appeared to have shoved most of his clothes in a kit bag that didn’t close, and Harry could see a slew of manuscripts, Bulgarian, Albanian and Tunisian novels, and poetry books. As there was the stench of the grave about the editor, Harry got down from his stool, saying it was awkward, and insisted they sit at a table where Rob was further away.
‘Don’t I look a hundred per cent?’ said Rob. His eyes widened and he glanced around furtively, as if he were about to be attacked. Harry remembered how gentle his father was with paranoiacs, speaking to them quietly, and without intrusive questions, often just repeating what they said in a whisper. He managed this until Rob informed him that he was intending to accompany him to Mamoon’s place in the country.
‘You are? Why?’ asked Harry.
‘Don’t you think it would be a good place to detox? We can talk through the material while strolling about the woods. I can help you organise it.’
‘Rob, I’m not ready for that,’ said Harry. ‘All you need to know is that India was terrific.’
‘And America?’
‘I had to beg for it, but finally it turned out to be good stuff, with Marion. She’s very similar to Liana in her brashness and confidence. Mamoon must know that people go for the same types without seeing it. But she’s more intelligent and shrewder than Liana. She knows him better. However, it turns out she loved the curmudgeonly old cunt non-stop for years, and still does, remarkably enough. She even fetched other women for him.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste. Particularly with literary giants, Harry, you will find that the women fling themselves into the fire head first. We fans are on the wrong side of literature.’
Harry said, ‘She gave him everything he wanted, and plenty of what he didn’t want. There was so much of it, he had to run for his life, even if it meant going back to the moaning lush Peggy who’d swallow anything, except his semen.’
‘No wonder he hid in the shed writing.’
‘He regrets the hiding, I suspect. It did him no good to miss out on the kisses. Still, it cheers me to think what a torment the bastard endured with both of them. It must have been a relief when Liana turned up, his escape from the labour of love. He must have believed everything would get easier.’
‘Did it work out for Mamoon? What’s it really like down there in the country with him? I guess I’ll find out later tonight.’ Harry must have looked surprised. ‘But I’m already packed. And this is juicy stuff, Harry. I can’t wait to hear more!’
‘In due course.’
‘What the fuck?’ said Rob. ‘Aren’t you going to let me sniff the sock?’
‘Rob, you sound a little manic. Your words are too close together. You don’t look at your all-time best.’
He said, ‘Did you get objective confirmation of the Mamoon violations? You can’t just stick any fucking gossip in one of my books: the lawyers will rip it right out.’
‘I understand that.’
Rob said he was rereading Mamoon’s second book, which was improving with age. He saw it alclass="underline" how Marxism and fundamentalism both require and enjoin silence, and that where there is silence evil is done. Far from fading, the writer had become a more crucial figure. He and Harry should shout out to the world that Mamoon still existed and people should hear him. Rob went on to say that things were not good for him either. ‘The wife’s thrown me out of the house. We had an altercation involving violence — on her side. She says I’m a paranoid alcoholic with a personality disorder.’
‘Who’d have thought it?’
‘I am narcissistic, too, apparently, as is anyone who doesn’t think about her continuously. I’m going to get treatment for depression. If the pills don’t work, I’m going to ask to have electricity put through me to jolt me into full health. Will you hold my hand when I’m plugged into the AC/DC?’
‘Rob, it was you who suggested that things were not good for me.’
‘Sorry, I forgot. They are not good for you. They couldn’t be worse, no.’ He leaned towards Harry. ‘Watch out all around — from behind, the side and the front.’
Harry laughed. ‘For what? I’ve just been in New York discussing the book with the American publisher. I’m full of ideas. He was pleased.’
Rob leaned towards him. ‘There’s a young gun, just out of college, more businesslike, less drippy and dreamy than you. When you left the country Liana hopped off to London to meet with him secretly. She told him how difficult you are, with your unusual hard-on for the truth, and she gave him encouragement.’
‘She did that to me?’
‘The young gun was guaranteeing he could turn the biography around in a year, and give Mamoon a lovely fresh gloss — the last of the post-war literary geniuses, there being only blogs, trolls and amateurs from now on. I could hear Liana’s vagina clapping with enthusiasm.’
‘You’re joking, Rob. I signed a contract.’
‘If Liana gives the word, you’re gone like a used condom. Me and Lotte, my super-soft sidekick, are making a superhuman effort to hold you in place.’
‘How?’
‘We’re using threats — among other things. Liana has to trust me: I said the young gun doesn’t have half your brain or ability. It sounds as if you’ve been doing good work. I bought you more time. You must press on, friend. Without my protection it will get dirty. I wouldn’t want to see you on antidepressants. What’s up? Your coat is going on. You’re looking away. You’re dashing off tonight — but, please, not without me.’
‘Sorry, Rob, I don’t want to be rude, but I need to see Alice properly.’
When Rob said he did too, Harry got up, paid the bill and started to walk away. Rob followed him, still talking. ‘I say — let’s meet soon, with the material in front of us. Perhaps on site. I could feel purified down there amongst the goats, fish and dung.’ He went on, ‘And if I can’t confirm the material’s decent, it’s curtains and creative writing for you, dude. You get me?’