Mood Indigo

  They looked at the walls. On long shelves of crinkled green copper were rows of bottles full of liniments for lineaments, salted balm-cakes, peppermints and mustard plasters. From the end jar on each shelf emanated a fluorescent barrier. In a conical recipient of thick smoked glass swollen tadpoles were helterskeltering down in spirals. When they reached the bottom they darted off again up to the surface and began their eccentric gyration all over again, leaving a whitish wake of ruffled water behind them. At the side of an aquarium several yards long the shopkeeper had set up a laboratory bench to carry on experiments on nozzle-frogs. Here and there several rejected frogs were lying around, each of their four hearts still feebly beating.

  On the wall behind Chick and Colin there was a vast fresco showing the remedy-man in process of fornication with his mother, wearing Lucrezia Borgia’s racing outfit. On tables there were multitudes of pill-making machines and some of them were working – although not very quickly.

  The pills, coming out through an exhaust-pipe of blue glass, were caught by wax hands which put them into little paper bags and wrapped them up.

  Colin stood up to look more carefully at the machine nearest to him and lifted up its rusty tin cover. Inside it, a composite animal, half-flesh, half-metal, was rapidly killing itself by swallowing the basic materials and expulsing them in the form of little round pills.

  ‘Come and look, Chick,’ said Colin.

  ‘What?’ asked Chick.

  ‘There’s something very peculiar here! …’ said Colin.

  Chick looked. The animal had an elongated jaw with a rapid lateral movement. Under its transparent skin, thin tubular steel ribs could be seen and a digestive tract which seemed to be working in slow motion.

  ‘It’s a modified rabbit,’ said Chick.

  ‘D’you think so?’

  ‘Yes. Everybody’s doing it,’ said Chick. ‘It’s the latest thing. You just keep the bits you need. There, you see, he’s kept the mechanism of the digestive system, but flung out the chemical part and the metabolism. It’s much more simple than making pills with a mould in the old way.’

  ‘What does it feed on?’ asked Colin.

  ‘Chromium carrots,’ said Chick. ‘They used to make them in the factory where I worked when I first left school. Then it’s given the ingredients of the pills …’

  ‘It’s a fine invention,’ said Colin, ‘and it makes very pretty pills.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chick. ‘They’re as round as can be.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Colin, going back to sit down.

  ‘What?’ asked Chick.

  ‘How much of the twenty-five thousand doublezoons I gave you before I went on my honeymoon have you got left?’

  ‘Er! …’ replied Chick.

  ‘It’s about time you made up your mind to marry Alyssum. It’s wearing her out carrying on the way you carry on!!!’

  ‘I know …’ replied Chick.

  ‘Well, you must still have about twenty thousand doublezoons. That ought to be plenty to get married on, all the same …’

  ‘Yes, but …’ said Chick.

  He stopped because it was hard to come out with it.

  ‘Yes, but what?’ insisted Colin. ‘You’re not the only one with money problems.’

  ‘I know,’ said Chick.

  ‘Well then?’ said Colin.

  ‘Well,’ said Chick, ‘I’m afraid I’ve only got three thousand two hundred doublezoons left …’

  Colin suddenly felt very low. Shadowy objects with dull blunt spikes were going round and round inside his head, making a noise like the distant tide coming in from afar. He sat up on the seat.

  ‘It can’t be true,’ he said.

  He was weary, as weary as if he had been hounded and whipped over a long steeplechase.

  ‘It can’t be true …’ he repeated … ‘You’re leading me on.’

  ‘I’m sorry …’ said Chick.

  Chick was standing up. With the tip of his finger he was scratching the corner of the nearest table. Pills were rolling out of the glass exhaust making a noise like the clicking of billiard-balls, and the scrumpling of the paper-bags by the dummy hands created a portrait in muzak of a West End-ian piscatorial parlour.

  ‘But what did you do with it all?’ asked Colin. ‘Bought loads of Heartre,’ said Chick. He felt in his pocket.

  ‘Look at this. I found it only yesterday. Isn’t it marvellous?’

  It was A Bouquet of Belches bound in coarse-grained morocco, with coloured plates by Kierkegaard.

  Colin took the book and looked at it, but he did not see the pages. He could see the eyes of Alyssum, on the day he was married, and the look of sad wonder that filled them as she admired Chloe’s dress. But Chick wouldn’t understand that. His eyes never rose so high.

  ‘What on earth can I say to you? …’ murmured Colin. ‘So you’ve spent the lot? …’

  ‘I got two of his manuscripts last week,’ said Chick, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement. ‘And I’ve already recorded seven of his lectures …’

  ‘Yes, yes …’ said Colin.

  ‘Why did you ask me?’ said Chick. ‘Alyssum doesn’t care whether I marry her or not. She’s happy as she is. You know I like her a lot, especially as she’s crazy about Heartre too!’

  One of the machines seemed to have got out of control. A cataract of pills tumbled out and there was a blinding violet flash when they fell into the paper bag.

  ‘What’s happening?’ said Colin. ‘Is it going to explode?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Chick. ‘All the same, don’t go too close.’

  Somewhere in the distance they could hear a door closing, and the remedy-man suddenly popped up behind the counter.

  ‘I kept you waiting,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Colin reassured him.

  ‘But I must …’ said the shopkeeper. ‘I did it on purpose. I have to do it to keep up my position.’

  ‘One of your machines seems to have got out of control …’ said Colin, pointing to the one that was going crazy.

  ‘Aha! …’ said the remedy-man.

  He leant over, took a rifle from under the counter, put it to his shoulder, carefully took aim and fired. The machine sprang into the air, did a somersault and fell back exhausted.

  ‘It wasn’t anything,’ said the salesman. ‘Now and again the rabbit gets the upper hand over the steel and has to be put down.’

  He picked up the machine, pressed on the base plate to extract the juices, and hung it on a nail.

  ‘Here’s your remedy,’ he said, taking a box from his pocket. ‘Be careful, it’s very potent. Don’t take more than it says on the label.’

  ‘Fine!’ said Colin. ‘Tell me, what do you think it’s for?’

  ‘Couldn’t say …’ replied the shopkeeper.

  He plunged a long hand with twisted nails into his white mop.

  ‘It might be for all kinds of things …’ he concluded. ‘But most ordinary plants wouldn’t stand up to it for very long.’

  ‘Oh, I see!’ said Colin. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘It’s very expensive,’ said the shopkeeper. ‘You ought to cosh me and run off without paying …’

  ‘Oh!’ said Colin, ‘I’m too tired.’

  ‘Well, it’s two doublezoons,’ said the shopkeeper.

  Colin took out his crocket.

  ‘You know,’ said the shopkeeper, ‘it’s really daylight robbery.’

  ‘I don’t mind …’ said Colin in a lifeless voice.

  He paid up and went. Chick followed him.

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ said the remedy-man, going to the door with them. ‘I’m very old and I wouldn’t put up a fight.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t spare the time,’ mumbled Colin.

  ‘That’s not true,’ said the shopkeeper. ‘Or you wouldn’t have waited so long …’

  ‘I’ve got the remedy now,’ said Colin. ‘Good-bye.’ He walked across the street diagonally in order t
o save his strength.

  ‘You know,’ said Chick, ‘just because I’m not marrying Alyssum, it doesn’t mean that I’m going to leave her …’

  ‘Oh!’ said Colin. ‘I can’t give you any advice … After all, it’s your business …’

  ‘That’s life,’ said Chick.

  ‘It isn’t,’ said Colin.

  36

  The wind blew a path between the leaves, took it, and came out on the other side of the trees loaded with the perfume of buds and flowers. People were walking on air and breathing more deeply because there was plenty of freshness about. The sun slowly unfolded its rays and chanced them in the sky, cautiously prying into places which it could not strike directly, bending them round curved and ornate angles, but banging against very black things and drawing them back immediately as if it were a clockwork ormolu octopus made by Fabergé. Its immense burning carcass came slowly closer and closer until, finally immobile, it began to turn the waters of the continent to vapour and all the clocks struck three.

  Colin was reading a story to Chloe. It was a love story in which everybody lived happily ever after. They were up to the part where the hero and heroine were sending letters to each other.

  ‘Why is it so slow? …’ said Chloe. ‘Things normally happen quicker than that …’

  ‘Are you used to things like that?’ asked Colin.

  He sharply nipped the end of a ray of sunshine that was about to jab Chloe straight in the eye. It curled away coyly and started limping over the furniture in the bedroom.

  Chloe blushed.

  ‘No, I’m not used to things like that …’ she said shyly, ‘but it seems to me …’

  Colin closed the book.

  ‘You’re right, my little Chloe.’

  He got up and sat on the bed.

  ‘It’s time for one of your pills.’

  Chloe shuddered.

  ‘They’re so nasty,’ she said. ‘Have I got to take them?’

  ‘I think you should,’ said Colin. ‘We’re going to the doctor’s tonight – and at last we’ll know what the trouble is. But you must take one of your pills now. Perhaps he’ll give you something different then …’

  ‘These are horrible,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Try to be sensible.’

  ‘It’s just as if two savage animals were fighting inside my chest when I take one. And anyway, it isn’t true … it’s no good trying to be sensible …’

  ‘It’s more fun not to be, but sometimes you just have to,’ said Colin.

  He opened the little box.

  ‘They’re a horrid colour,’ said Chloe, ‘and they smell bad.’

  ‘They are strange, I know,’ said Colin, ‘but you must take them.’

  ‘Look,’ said Chloe. ‘They’re moving! You can seem to see through them and I’m sure there’s something alive in the middle.’

  ‘If there is, it won’t live long in the water you have to drink with them,’ said Colin.

  ‘That’s silly – it might be a fish! …’

  Colin began to laugh.

  ‘Well, if it is, then it should help build up your strength.’

  He leaned across and kissed her.

  ‘Hurry up and take it, Chloe baby. Be nice!’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Chloe, ‘but promise to kiss me again afterwards!’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Colin, ‘if you’re not ashamed of kissing such a wicked husband …’

  ‘You do look rather diabolical,’ said Chloe, teasing.

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  Colin pulled a long face.

  ‘I don’t get enough sleep,’ he went on.

  ‘Kiss me, little Colin. I’m very wicked too. Give me two pills to make me good.’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ said Colin. ‘One’s enough. Just swallow. Swallow …’

  Chloe closed her eyes. She went pale and lifted her hand to her chest.

  ‘It’s gone,’ she said, with great difficulty. ‘And now it’s going to start all over again …’

  Little beads of perspiration appeared at the edges of her brilliant hair.

  Colin sat by her side and put his arm round her neck. She grabbed his hand between both of hers, whimpering.

  ‘Take it easy, Chloe baby,’ said Colin. ‘You must try …’

  ‘It hurts …’ murmured Chloe.

  Tears as big as her eyes appeared at the corners of her lids and traced cold tracks across her soft round cheeks.

  37

  ‘I can’t stand any more …’ murmured Chloe.

  She had both feet on the ground and was trying to stand up.

  ‘It’s no good,’ she said … ‘I’m so weak.’

  Colin went over and lifted her up. She held on to his shoulders.

  ‘Hold me, Colin. I’m going to fall!’

  ‘It’s being in bed that’s made you so weak …’ said Colin.

  ‘No,’ said Chloe. ‘It’s that old quack’s pills.’

  She tried to stand alone, but tottered. Colin caught her and she dragged him down on to the bed with her.

  ‘I feel fine like this,’ said Chloe. ‘Stay here with me. It’s such a long time since we’ve been to bed together.’

  ‘You mustn’t,’ said Colin.

  ‘But I must. Kiss me. I’m your wife, aren’t I?’

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Colin. ‘But you’re not well.’

  ‘It isn’t my fault,’ said Chloe, and her mouth trembled ever so slightly, as if she were going to cry.

  Colin held her close and kissed her very tenderly, as he would have kissed a flower.

  ‘Do that again,’ said Chloe. ‘And not just on my cheek. Don’t you love me any more? Don’t you want a little wife any more?’

  He held her still more tightly in his arms. She was warm and moist and full of perfume. Like a bottle from a boutique in a box padded with white satin.

  ‘Yes please,’ said Chloe, stretching herself out … ‘Yes, please, do that again …’

  38

  ‘We’ll be late,’ said Colin.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Chloe, ‘we’ll blame it on your watch.’

  ‘You really don’t want to go by car? …’

  ‘No …’ said Chloe. ‘I want to be seen walking in the street with you.’

  ‘But it’s a long way to go!’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Chloe … ‘When you … kissed me just now, it made me fit again. I feel like walking a little.’

  ‘I’ll tell Nicholas to come and pick us up in the car afterwards, shall I?’ suggested Colin.

  ‘Oh! Yes, please …’

  To go to the doctor’s she had put on a friendly little blue dress, very low cut with a V-neck, and a little ocelot jacket with a hat to match. Dyed serpent-skin accessories completed the outfit.

  ‘Come along, pussy!’ said Colin.

  ‘It isn’t cat,’ sulked Chloe. ‘It’s ocelot.’

  ‘That’s far too hard for me to spell,’ said Colin.

  They went out of the bedroom and into the hall. Chloe stopped by the window.

  ‘What’s happened here? It’s not as bright as it used to be …’

  ‘Of course it is,’ said Colin. ‘It’s full of sunshine!’

  ‘It isn’t,’ said Chloe. ‘I can remember clearly that the sun used to come up to that pattern on the carpet, and now it only goes as far as this …!’

  ‘It depends on the time of day,’ said Colin.

  ‘No, it doesn’t depend on the time of day, because it was exactly at the same time as it is now! …’

  ‘Then we’ll take another look tomorrow at the same time,’ said Colin.

  ‘No, look now. It used to come up to the seventh repeat of the pattern. And now it’s only on the fifth …’

  ‘Come along,’ said Colin. ‘We’re late.’

  Chloe smiled at herself as she went past the big mirror in the tiled corridor. Her trouble couldn’t be serious, and from now on they would go out for lots of walks together. He would get his do
ublezoons straightened out and find that he had enough left for them to lead a very pleasant life. Perhaps he might even go out to work …

  The lock gave a steely click and the door closed behind them. Chloe held on to his arm. She was taking light little steps. Colin took one for every two of hers.

  ‘I’m happy,’ said Chloe. ‘The sun is shining and the trees smell good!’

  ‘Of course!’ said Colin. ‘Spring is here!’

  ‘Is it?’ said Chloe, giving him a wicked wink.

  They turned to the right. There were two buildings to go past before reaching the medical district. A hundred yards farther on they could begin to smell the anaesthetics. On windy days the smell came even closer. The pavements were different here. They were wide flat canals, covered over with concrete grilles and narrowly spaced bars. Under the bars ran streams of antiseptic and ether, dragging drifting swabs of cotton-wool stained with damp and pus – and occasionally with blood – along with them. Long filaments of semi-coagulated blood tinged the volatile flux here and there, and shreds of half-rotten flesh twisted over themselves and slowly rolled away like melting icebergs that had grown too soft. The atmosphere was full of the smell of ether. Strips of gauze and dressings were swept along by the current too, loosely unwinding their sleepy spirals. At the side of every house a chute came straight down into the canal. Each doctor’s speciality could be told by carefully watching the orifice at the bottoms of these tubes for a few moments. A rolling eye tumbled down one of them, looked at them for a minute or two, and then disappeared under a large sheet of spongy red cotton-wool like a dying jellyfish.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Chloe. ‘The air may be very healthy, but it isn’t very easy on the eye …’

  ‘No,’ said Colin.

  ‘Let’s walk in the middle of the road.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Colin. ‘But we’ll get run over.’

  ‘I was wrong to say no to the car,’ said Chloe. ‘I’ve got no legs left.’

  ‘You’re lucky he doesn’t live in the middle of the big surgical centre …’

  ‘Be quiet!’ said Chloe. ‘Are we nearly there?’

  She suddenly started coughing again and Colin turned pale.

  ‘Please don’t cough, Chloe! …’ he begged. ‘I’m trying, Colin …’ she said, restraining herself with tremendous difficulty.