The Nothing

  ‘I started feeling queer, Zee. I’m hearing things, as you said you do. Waiters don’t just say “Dear Pussy” to customers at random. I’ve told no one the school story.’

  ‘Not quite no one. Gibney and I are not no one.’

  ‘Zee, darling, please, you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?’

  ‘I’m trying to elevate you. Why would I inform a waiter that you were buggered by your music master as he whistled Don Giovanni?’

  ‘Didn’t you tell Waldo?’

  I imagine her shaking her head and looking around as if for a handy exit.

  At last, ‘I mentioned it.’

  ‘Did you tell him about the rest? How we went to the teacher and Gibney lost his temper and attacked him?’

  ‘Some of it might have slipped out. Waldo is very persuasive, Eddie. He has a grip on me.’

  ‘What a bastard he is, planting a wasp in my head.’

  ‘That’s why only you can help me escape. He’s suffocating us. Let’s get it over with and be free.’

  ‘How can we be free when you’ve made such a lunacy with your talk?’

  ‘Being raped is nothing to be ashamed of. These days people go on television to discuss it. We should put your account on the website, with a photo. You wrote about it once in a psychology magazine.’

  ‘I refused to give my name.’

  ‘You should now. It would create traffic. Waldo says it would make a solution out of a problem.’

  ‘That’s sick. I don’t want to make a career as a rape victim. What would the children think? I’m disgusted to even think about it.’

  ‘You weren’t a victim. That’s what’s interesting. You couldn’t wait to be raped. You wore tight trousers.’

  ‘That is mad.’

  ‘I like you when your blood is up.’ There is a pause. ‘Don’t forget, you’ve killed before.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Bow.’

  ‘But he jumped before he could go to jail.’

  ‘With your encouragement, Eddie, let’s face it. You helped him make the decision. It was a good job, well done. The best thing you did.’

  ‘I didn’t do it!’

  ‘I’ve added it to your credit, darling.’

  There is lots I can’t hear. I sip my vodka and gargle with it. I enjoy imagining him with his head in his hands, wondering what he’s got himself into.

  ‘Don’t blub or turn against me, Eddie, when I’m exhausted from trying to work things out. Remember, I’m the one keeping you from destitution. Didn’t Gibbo say tonight that he couldn’t see any way forward for you? Unless …?’

  ‘Unless … unless … What can I do, Zee? What do you want from me?’

  ‘Without me, Waldo would put you out on the street. He’s ruthless. Count your mercies.’

  ‘I’m trying to do that.’

  ‘You want us to have a future. You need to be manly. You know what the kiss-off is.’ There’s a pause. ‘What is that noise? Is it Waldo? Will you see to him?’

  ‘Why is it my turn?’

  ‘You won’t enjoy paying your own bills, and they’re considerable …’

  Eddie comes into my room, turns on a light and looks at me.

  ‘Are you awake, dear friend?’

  ‘Can you turn me over?’

  As he is doing it, she comes in behind him.

  ‘It’s easy. Do this.’ She snatches up a pillow. ‘You are a nuisance, Waldo. You’ve been naughty, you know you have. I’m tired of your meddling. Let me see you.’

  She holds the pillow over my face. She pushes down.

  Eddie grabs her arm. ‘Zee!’ he says. ‘He can’t breathe!’

  She stops. Eddie stares at her.

  ‘God, Zee— We could go to prison for this.’

  ‘Eddie, please, this is mercy. We’ll ask for it one day. Do it in stages. Take your time. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s begged me to let him go. He’s had enough. Let eternity take him and we can be free.’

  At the door she stops.

  ‘When you’re done, Eddie, come into my arms. I’ll be waiting.’

  EIGHTEEN

  She steps in, kisses him on the cheek and leaves.

  He leaves me too. But I can hear him moving about in the living room. His hands are not still.

  I am getting impatient. He must get on with it before I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss anything. If you can’t enjoy your own death, what can you enjoy?

  ‘Eddie, Eddie …’

  This brings him to the doorway. She has left the pillow on the end of the bed. He picks it up and moves towards me.

  ‘Now I can see you. Pussy, Pussy, Pussy—’

  ‘Those are disgusting and insulting words,’ he says.

  ‘Didn’t you do unforgivable things behind my back? You took what’s mine. How could you do that to a friend?’

  Eddie says, ‘Hit me, if you can. I’m weak. My body was never my own. I try to please everyone. I got used to servicing people, it’s like a favour, you know it how it is …’

  I crook my finger and bid him to come closer.

  ‘Eddie, billions have committed murder, and lived with it too. I know that tonight you must do it. Walk into the light so I can see your murdering eyes.’

  I think he’s going to cry. He covers his face with a pillow. ‘There is a smell in here,’ he says.

  ‘Eddie, I have no objection to being murdered. It’ll add glamour to the last page of my CV. But do you have doubts? You should. She will imprison you. You love your life as it is.’

  ‘Why would being with Zee be worse than the hell of insecurity I already live with?’

  ‘You’ll be trapped here in our life, not yours. And what you think you want you will never have, even if you have it. She likes bad boys, ones who take liberties, who care nothing for the consequences. While you are weak. She will enslave you. You won’t have a moment’s freedom.’

  He stands there limply. Then he picks up his courage again and comes towards me.

  ‘Are you going to do it now, Eddie?’

  To cheer him up, I make a noise I want him to believe is my death rattle.

  As he approaches, I push a button on my iPad and the TV turns on. The picture is big; the sound, from my monster subwoofers on two sides, is like an attack. We hear Johnny Rotten’s voice: ‘No future! No future!’

  Music to die by.

  ‘Look, Eddie, it’s my new one,’ I say. ‘My new film. Will you watch a moment or are you in a hurry?’

  Johnny’s voice fades. A black screen. A voice, ‘Hello, I am dead’, is my announcement.

  I’ll record that again if I’m not dead tomorrow and have some spare time. It sounds a little hollow, hammy and Wellesian.

  ‘This is me, Waldo, addressing you from beyond the grave. From hell, I hope. At least it’s warm. And this is my final story. Here – this is Zee …’

  There she is, fussing about.

  ‘This is Eddie. Hear him …’ A few chirrups and some shuffling from Eddie. ‘And here I am …’

  My voice, my beard – a big selfie and a wolfish smile.

  I say, ‘You can’t deny anything, Eddie. There are many images. Look – here is your man Gibney outside my apartment. Here’s Zee. You are at dinner. Carlo took a lovely picture of you all.’

  There are photographs of Zee in many different positions. Soon there is her voice and the Götterdämmerung, her orgasms.

  ‘Everything is recorded now, Eddie. Look up at the cameras and wave goodbye.’

  ‘This is crazy, Waldo. I never intended to kill you. Where did you get that idea? I’ve only wanted you to be comfortable …’

  He backs away.

  ‘By the way,’ I call after him. ‘Ask your mentor Mr Gibbo to contact me. We must talk.’

  I hurt in every part of myself. What an evil pain is. But I cannot even rest. I can hear them arguing in the living room. She cries, ‘Eddie, you messed it up, as you do everything!’

  There is heavy movement followed by a
male cry. One of the mirrors is knocked over. She is chasing him, I suspect, as he tries to gather his things. She has caught him a blow. I hope it is on the head. He has grabbed her, I guess, and she could be strangling him, she is capable of it, his cries sounding fainter, her breathing louder. Although I’m keen for him to be dead, and would love to see his head on a plate, I don’t want his body rotting on my living room floor, or my wife behind bars.

  I gather my strength and slide out of bed to intervene. Before I reach my chair, I slip and fall. I am flapping on the floor, where I can only groan and attempt to cry out, like an elderly Gregor Samsa.

  At last the door bangs. The darkness echoes.

  Being almost murdered has exhausted me.

  NINETEEN

  Samreen says, ‘What’s happened, dear Waldo?’

  I turn as much as I can. ‘Tell me what you mean, sweet Sammy …’

  Her black hair flows down over her trench coat. She wears a wool scarf even in this weather, as she pushes me through the city, leaning forward to reach my ear.

  ‘Mum moves more slowly. That’s natural as one ages. But she looks at you and she listens. She pays attention. This is new. When she walks in the park with the children, she lets them lead her. She was never like that with us.’

  ‘How was she?’

  ‘Frustrated and angry. She didn’t want to be with us. You know she was, let’s say, quite strong with her children?’

  ‘I had some idea.’

  ‘With my father too. She said, “He doesn’t even beat me.” When she’d been angry and hit us she was contented. Or she would hold us down in the bath until we thought we would drown. After waterboarding us, she’d eat well. But she knew she couldn’t do the mad stuff with you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Waldo, you rescued her. Once she got you, she lost interest in us, thank God. But I was angry for years. After so long, I like her a bit more.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Truthfully, has she ever been that way with you? You don’t answer. She’d suffocate us, you know.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you? Again you don’t reply, Waldo.’ I turn to look at her, but she looks into the distance. ‘I will speak to her in the next few days.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m afraid she’ll die before we’ve talked it through and I’ll be left with mouthfuls of unused words.’

  ‘I hope you say it. I like a Hollywood ending.’

  Zee is at the movies with the children. Samreen enjoys taking me round the old places: Earl’s Court, South Kensington, Chelsea. It looks unrecognisable to both of us. We stop outside the Troubadour and talk. But not for long. Samreen doesn’t know it, but I have to be somewhere. I text Anita and tell her to prepare. I am on my way. She knows what to do. I am not one for revenge, but in Gibbo’s case I can make an exception.

  ‘I have a new slowness too,’ I tell Samreen. ‘And I love Zee as much as ever.’

  ‘She loves you. The way she looks at you. And she is a little afraid of you, as usual. There is a new melancholy there. What is that? Why did you ask me to come to London a few days earlier?’

  ‘You must talk to Zee about that.’

  ‘Don’t blaspheme near her now, wise Waldo.’ She goes on, ‘Mama’s hair is undyed and she sits with her Koran and prayer beads, counting. I see there is a prayer mat in her room. The Arabic words must calm her. Religion tells you everything when there is disarray. But yesterday, on the street, she was wearing a long skirt, and she covered her head.’

  ‘Did you ask her why?’

  ‘No. Even here, in London, people look at covered women with hatred. I wonder if she will fast? We did as children because of my father, but has she done it recently?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have it: she’s thin as it is.’

  Sammy says, ‘Mummy was alienated from the truth, she says. There is materialism, mental disease and perversion. The hijab makes her feel strong. Did she fall under the influence of someone evil?’

  ‘God is easily taken in, Samreen. He’s asleep and he’s a fool. As a devout sceptic, I am not so gullible. All I can say is, I intend to go on with this marriage until I die.’

  ‘Mine is coming to an end, Daddy. How did you keep yours alive so long?’

  ‘Genius.’

  She says, ‘You know what my mother’s greatest fear is? Of losing you. Of your death. It has haunted her. “Without him there’ll be nothing,” she says.’

  She pushes me on, a long way, until we get to Carlo’s. It is after lunch. There is a table by the window. We can have tea.

  Zee replaced Eddie with God: a wise choice, in my view. But I do wonder what this disillusionment and the collapse of her hopes will do. She will recover, I believe. It will take time. Not that I have that.

  ‘Waldo, wake up,’ says Samreen. ‘That man is waving at you. Over there, across the road, isn’t that your friend?’

  She turns me around. It is Anita, with Gibney. She has brought him along. I am pleased to see him. It is time for some shock and awe. Time to bite the head off the snake.

  He is pleased too. He is trying to cross the road towards me, with some urgency.

  ‘Are you sure you want to talk to that man, Waldo? He looks a little angry. Is he Anita’s PR?’

  Anita, behind him, comes over to kiss me as Gibney looks on, wondering how to approach this. For a moment he looks at a loss. Illness has some consolations: you can’t grab a man in a wheelchair by the lapels and hurl him into the traffic.

  Gibney offers his hand but I can’t touch it. He bends forward to address me.

  ‘Ah, Waldo, I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Would you join me a moment to discuss your unreasonableness?’

  ‘There is no man keener to hear the truth about himself, Mr Gibney. I only hope you will take the time to show me your cosh.’

  Samreen asks if I mind being left. She excuses herself to do a little shopping. She’ll be back later to pick me up. Anita agrees to take over. They exchange phone numbers in case I have a queer turn.

  I have my objections to Mr Gibney but there are things I want to know. Doesn’t civilisation mean keeping your temper when there is no reason for restraint?

  We sit down, Anita bearing the fearful look of a walnut about to be placed in a nutcracker. What can she do except pick at her fingers? Pietro fetches the menu; Carlo comes out and throws himself over us. I ask Pietro for my favourite lapsang and a jug of hot water.

  At last I say, ‘It is unusual not to see you lurking outside my house like a man about to steal the pictures, Mr Gibney. Are you keen to see my Peter Blake or other possessions?’

  ‘Not interested.’

  ‘How is your boy Eddie?’

  ‘You’ll know something about it. He’s been ill and injured on the shoulder and in the eye. He’s in a hostel.’

  ‘Grim?’

  ‘The smell isn’t gorgeous. He shares a room with six other men. And he’s working in the bar at the club.’

  ‘How are your new plans developing? Patricia Howard’s the new mark, isn’t she? She’s coming to dinner. I’ll be sure to discuss it with her.’

  ‘Why would you object to people being introduced to one another?’ says Gibney. ‘Anita did mention that you were isolated and paranoid, with a filthy temper—’

  ‘Gibbo,’ Anita says. ‘That’s enough. He’s not paranoid.’

  Gibney takes her hand and pats it while he speaks to me. ‘Eddie called you Master. He liked to spend time with you. He said you knew what you were doing.’

  ‘That’s a nice thing to say. Can I ask you something? Why did he have the bad taste to play with my wife? Or would he play with just anyone’s wife? I’ve heard he was somewhat indiscriminating.’

  Gibney snorts. ‘I’m reluctant to be the one to inform you, but your wife was gagging for it. You hadn’t noticed? What were you looking at all day? He was satisfying her. I’m afraid it was a fitter man’s work. She took him, and she did him over, promising to set him up in
business and find him a flat and other stuff. She conned him, and, I’m afraid to have to tell you, he didn’t find sex with her congenial.’

  I glance at Anita. ‘If you really are rough trade, Mr Gibney, I’m going to be very disappointed if you don’t do something nasty today. I have some standards, and would never trust anyone who wears pointed shoes. But you are, I hear, Eddie’s manager. Your slave didn’t get the money or the woman, but you nearly took down a sick man with your scheme to enrich yourself through him.’ I add, ‘You are aware that your boy also tried to murder me?’

  Gibney, who is a jumpy, nervous fellow and appears to be doing something irritating with his face, laughs at this.

  ‘How can Eddie be the murdering sort? Your wife had a grudge against you. You two crooked darlings tried to pin the blame on him.’ He leans towards me. ‘Zee’s aggressive and never described you as anything but a monster. I’ve been worried about Eddie and his devotion to you both. Your wife took him for a right ride with her wiles and words.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘You were happy to let him be used by your wife while he kept her satisfied. Nothing is for free, everyone pays for sex. She knew it would cost her now … But when he demanded some equality you tormented him, poor man. You messed with his head. You mocked his kids and the abuse he went through. You both knew what had happened to him in the past, didn’t you?’

  ‘I was made aware of the part you played in the demise of Bow.’

  ‘That’s also my fault, is it?’

  ‘It lifts me to hear how blameless you are, Mr Gibney.’

  He says, ‘Eddie was found collapsed on the street when he finally escaped that night. She attacked him with a Golden Globe—’

  ‘A Bafta. They’re well made.’

  ‘She hurt him badly because he didn’t do what she said. He ran from you, out of London, towards the airport, where he intended to fly somewhere to escape for good. He had taken a substantial overdose and had to be carted off to hospital. His daughter has had a kind of breakdown. They both need a lot of care. I am very disappointed in your family, Waldo. And I’m letting you know that—’ He takes Anita’s hand, holds it up and kisses it. ‘At least I have her.’