The collected stories (8 page)

At once, he was friendlier. We had found common ground as struggling writers.

'It's hand to mouth with me,' he said.

I said, 'I was having this very conversation with Sir Charles Moonman just the other night.'

'He hasn't got my worries,' said Wibbert, though when I had said Sir Charles's name Wibbert looked closely at me, the way a person peers from a high window to an interesting spectacle below.

'You'd be surprised.'

'If it was a struggle for that pompous overpraised old bastard?' he said. 'Yes, I'd be very surprised.'

'Have you ever met him?'

Wibbert shook his head.

'Why don't you come over some evening? You might change your mind.'

Wibbert said, 'He'd probably hate me.'

'Absolutely not,' I said.

'How can you be so sure?'

'Because I'm sure he's read your poetry, and if he has how could he fail to be an admirer of yours?'

This did the trick. Wibbert wrote his telephone number on the back of my hand in ballpoint, and as he had to hold my hand in his in order to do this it was noticed by the others at Miss Byward's as a rather eloquent gesture.

'You're not leaving,' said Miss Byward, when I asked for my cape.

so

ALGEBRA

'A dinner engagement. Unfortunately. I would so much rather stay here and chat. It's been lovely.'

She released me and afterward I wondered whether she had not said those very words to me. On the bus home I thought how much more satisfying it was to be a host than a guest.

I went home and after four tries typed a letter to Sir Charles, which I copied out in longhand - I liked the look of spontaneous intimacy in a handwritten letter. I was sure he would appreciate it. I told him about Wibbert and said that Wibbert was dead keen to meet him, if we could fix a day.

The reply from Sir Charles came in the form of an invitation from the Royal Society of Literature in which I was named as his guest at a lecture by Cyril Crowder on 'Our Debt to Hugh Walpole.' Although a reply was not requested I dashed off a note to the Society's secretary and said I'd be delighted to attend. And another to Sir Charles. On the day, I was so impatient I arrived early and chatted to the only person I could find, a little old lady fussing at a table. I had very nearly invited her to meet Sir Charles when she revealed herself as one of the tea ladies and said, 'I should have a cream bun now if I was you. They're always the first to go.'

Just before the lecture the room filled with people, Sir Charles among them. I blushed when a man, on being introduced to me by Sir Charles, said yes, indeed, he knew my work well. Sir Charles was pleased, and so was I, but I quickly took myself to a corner of the room. Here, a group of people were talking to a man who was obviously the center of attention. I made a beeline for this man, but instead of speaking, simply listened to what the others were saying. The man smiled at me a number of times.

'His friendship with James amounted to influence,' someone said. 'I believe it was very great.'

'Deep,' said the man, and smiled at me.

I swallowed my fear and said, 'Profound.'

'That's it,' said the man and thanked me with his eyes.

'They're calling you, Cyril,' said a woman. 'You're on.'

This was Cyril Crowder! But he took his time. He said, 'You'll have to excuse me. I must do my stuff. Perhaps I'll see you afterward. There are drinks downstairs in the Lodge.'

Cyprus sherry, Hungarian Bull's Blood that was red ink, a semi-sweet Spanish white, and a mongrel Corsican rose.

WORLD S END

The dinner I gave for Cyril Crowder, Sir Charles and Lady Barbara, Virginia Byward, and Wibbert was one of my most memorable. It was further enhanced by the appearance after dinner (I had only six chairs) of Tanya and Mr Momma - and Mr Momma brought his records. Naturally I left them to themselves, kept their glasses filled with some vintage Muscadet (1971), and let them become quite tipsy. Very late in the evening, Cyril took me aside. I told him again how much I had enjoyed his lecture, but he interrupted, saying, 'Have you ever thought of addressing the Society?'

'I wouldn't dare.'

'Oh, do.'

'I'm not even a member,' I said.

'We can put that right,' he said, and he hollered across the room, 'Charles - how about making Michael a Fellow at the next committee meeting? All in favor say, "Aye!"'

'Aye!' came the shout from the sofa.

And Mr Momma said, 'High!'

'Motion carried,' said Cyril. 'Now what will you speak on?'

'First things first,' I said, and uncorked a bottle of port (1972), decanted it through my hanky, and poured three inches into a schooner.

'That wine's a gentleman,' said Cyril.

'So you can understand why I was so keen to lay it down.'

After Sir Charles and Lady Barbara left, Mr Momma put his records on the gramophone and did his drunken Cypriot shuffle. Wibbert waltzed with Tanya. I was tapped on the shoulder. Cyril had taken off his spectacles. He said, 'May I have the pleasure?' and slipped his arm around my waist.

Friendship is algebra, but there are operations most people are too impatient or selfish to perform. Any number is possible! There is a cynical side to this. Ronald used to say that you can sleep with anyone you like - you only have to ask. That is almost entirely selfish. But one can be unselfish, even in sleeping around - in giving everything and expecting nothing but agreeable company. 'Giving everything,' I say; but so little is actually required - a good-natured remark, a little flattery, a drink.

But I have been bold. Not long after my election to the Royal Society I saw a production of Streetcar Named Desire, with Annette Frame playing Blanche Dubois. I wrote her a fan letter. She replied.

ALGEBRA

I replied. We exchanged letters on a weekly basis - mine were letters, hers postcards. Then I popped the question. Would she join me for a drink? We agreed on a date and though she was leery at first she stayed until the wee hours. Now I count her as one of my dearest friends. Algebra.

I sometimes think that in my modest way I have discovered something that no one else knows. When Virginia Byward got her OBE it was I who helped her choose her dress and I who drove her to the Palace. A year before I would not have believed it to be possible, and yet as we rounded Hyde Park Corner I realized we were hurrying to meet the Queen. 'Alice,' Virginia calls me when she is a little tipsy and tearful. But the life I have is the life I have always wanted. I am surprised that no one has realized how simple it is.

Once, I thought that in agreeing to attend my parties these people were doing me an enormous favor, taking time off from busy schedules to flatter my vanity. Later I saw how empty their lives were. Td have lunch with anyone remotely human,' Wibbert once said. It was the saddest thing I had ever heard. Now it is clear that if it were not for me they would drearily write their books and live drearily alone and be too proud and unimaginative to invite each other round.

They take me as I am. I pose no threat; but more, I believe I have brought some joy into their lives - as much into Mr Momma's as Sir Charles's. It is only awkward when, very late in the evening, their gratitude gets the better of them and they insist on hearing something about my latest book. I say it's dreadful, everything's up the wall, I haven't written a word for ages. And they accept this. They even seem a bit relieved when I change the subject and uncork another bottle.

The English Adventure

'You have read already The Times?

'I just did so.'

Tor my lateness I am deeply sorry, but there was the parking. So much of traffic in this town now. I think it is the Germans and their campings. It is fantastic'

'I hate the campings. And the Germans are a shame. You see? There are some at that table. Listen to them. Such a language.'

'I much prefer the English.'

'Indeed. Quite so.'

'Why are you drinking genever at this hour?'

'For The Times. I had the tea and finished it. But there was still more of The Times. I could not have more tea, so I took some genever. And so I finished The Times, but I still have the genever.''

'Henriet! You will be drunk for Janwillem!'

'It is easier to speak English if one is drunk, and tonight is Janwillem's church.'

'A lousy night for Janwillem.'

'He likes the church, Marianne. Last week he has missed the church and he has been so ashamed.'

'I mean that. Happy as a louse on a dirty head. We say "a lousy time" for a happy time.'

'We say a jolly time.'

'A jolly time, thank you. Did you learn this in The Times?

'I learned this in England.'

'Have you had a jolly time in England?'

'A lousy time.'

'Henriet! You are drunk already. So I will have the tea. Last week, I had the tea, but no English. I said to the boy, "One pot of tea and two cakes, if you please." But he did not reply in English. It was so insulting to me. I think he did it to be wicked. When he brought the tea I said, "Please," but he only smiled at me. I was so deeply sorry you were not here. You would have said more.'

'The young boy?'

THE ENGLISH ADVENTURE

The old boy.'

'I would have said more.'

'I have been thinking last week of you in England. Proper tea, proper English. I know you already for ten years, but since we are starting this English I know you better. "Lucky Henriet," I have been thinking last week, "in London with the plays and the shows, and speaking English to all the people. And I have nothing but this news and this wicked boy." You buy that shoot in London?'

'I have bought this suit in London.'

'Please. And the weather, it was nice?'

'London weather. London rain.'

'It is fantastic. And the hotel, it was good?'

'We will not speak of the hotel.'

'Janwillem, he enjoyed?'

'Janwillem is Janwillem. Here he is Janwillem, and in another place we go - how much money, tickets, taxis, rain, different people - he is still Janwillem. In London, at the hotel, we are in the room and I am sitting in the chair. I look out the window - a small square, with grass, very nice, and some flowers, very nice, and the wet street, so different. I turn again and I am happy until I see Janwillem is still Janwillem.'

'You are not going to speak of the hotel you say!'

'I was mentioning my husband.'

'He is a good man.'

'Quite so, a good man. I love him. But even if he had a few faults I would love him. I would love him more and wish him to understand. The faults make the love stronger. I want him to be a bit faulty, so I can show him my love. But he is a good man. It is so hard to love a good man.'

'Your English is fantastic. It is London. Last week I am here with this tea and this old boy. I am learning nothing. You are learning more English. It is London.'

'It is this genever. And my sadness.'

'We will then speak of the news. You have read already?'

'And the hotel and Janwillem. So many times I ask of him to understand this thing. "No," he says. "Do not speak of it." And he goes to his church. Even in London - the church, he is missing the church. And the children and the house. He is a good father, such a good one. But at the church, I have seen him three weeks ago, a festival, he is dancing with the other ladies, hugging them.

WORLD S END

He is so happy. Kissing them and holding hands. What is wrong with that? A man can do such things and it means nothing, but a woman cannot. No hugging - this is the fault. For a man it means nothing. He is going home in the car laughing, so happy while I am so very sad.'

'I have read the front page, Henriet. And some letters. Have you seen "appalling lack of taste"? We can discuss.'

'I have seen "appalling lack of taste" and I have seen the program on television to which it is referring.'

'Fantastic'

'But I cannot discuss. I will have another genever. See? He knows I want it and I have not even asked. Such a pleasant boy.'

'He is the boy who insulted me.'

'It is only natural, Marianne. You speak in English. He is wishing to be friendly.'

'I do not wish to be friendly.'

'He is not the old boy. He is the young.'

'I am drinking tea. He is the old.'

'Perhaps he would enjoy an adventure. It means nothing to them.'

'We shall speak of the news instead.'

'It is the thing Janwillem does not understand at all and he will never understand. "Do not speak of it!" But if he has an adventure I can understand. I can love him more. But he has no adventure. I have told you about Martin?'

'The librarian. He gives you books.'

'He gives me pinches.'

'We shall talk of the books.'

'And he tells me how easy it is. It means nothing to him. He wants me to spend the night with him. I tell him impossible. An afternoon, he says. After the lunch period he puts the library in the hands of his assistant and we leave. To my house. Four hours or five. Before Janwillem comes home, before Theo breaks from school. How does he know it is so easy? But he knows too much about this. How does he know? I ask him. He has three girl friends, or two - anyway, more than one. He boasts about them, and of course I cannot have an adventure with Martin. He would boast of me/

'Maybe he would boast of you.'

l Or talk about me. Men talk.'

'Janwillem would be so sad.'

THE ENGLISH ADVENTURE

'Janwillem would kill me. He could not stand it. I wonder if I can stand it? One day I am home with my throat - one afternoon. I am walking around the house. Strolling around the house. Not in our bedroom. Janwillem's clothes are there. He is so neat. In Theo's room. Yes, I think, that is where we would have our adventure. I go into Theo's room. Stamp collection, maps, Action-Man.'

'Fantastic'

'I cannot have an adventure in my son's room with Martin. Action-Man. It would make me sad.'

'I am glad I am older than you, even if my English is not good. But we will go to Croydon in April.'

'In London it is wonderful even in the rain. The people are different, and so polite. If you speak to them they speak. If you don't speak they are still polite.'