Mood Indigo

  ‘Don’t cough … We’re there … Here it is.’

  Professor Gnawknuckle’s sign was an immense jaw swallowing a fist so voraciously that only the elbow was left sticking out. It amused Chloe. She laughed very quietly, very low, because she was scared to cough any more. All round the walls were illuminated coloured photos of the miraculous cures performed by the professor, although the lights weren’t working at that moment.

  ‘Look,’ said Colin. ‘He’s a big specialist. The other houses haven’t got such fancy decorations.’

  ‘It only proves that he’s got lots of money,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Or lots of taste …’ said Colin. ‘It’s very artistic.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chloe. ‘Just like a high-class butcher’s.’

  They went in and found they were in a large round vestibule all gleaming white. A nurse came up.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Colin. ‘We may be a little late …’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said the nurse haughtily. ‘The professor has finished operating for today. Would you follow me, please?’

  They did, and the sharp high sound of their footsteps echoed on the polished floor. There was a set of doors in the circular wall, and the nurse led them to the one which had a miniature copy of the giant swinging sign outside stuck on it in embossed gold. She opened the door and stood back to let them in. They pushed a massive transparent inner door and found themselves in the professor’s surgery. He was standing in front of the window, shampooing his beard with a toothbrush dipped in extract of opoponax.

  He turned round when he heard them and went up to Chloe, holding out his hand.

  ‘Well, now, how do you feel today?’

  ‘Those pills were terrible,’ said Chloe.

  The professor’s face darkened and he looked like an octoroon.

  ‘That’s annoying …’ he murmured. ‘I was afraid that might happen.’

  He stood still for a moment, almost in a trance, then realized he was still holding his toothbrush.

  ‘Hold this,’ he said to Colin, shoving it into his hand. ‘Sit down, dear,’ he said to Chloe.

  He walked right the way round his room and then sat down himself.

  ‘Now look,’ he said to her, ‘you’ve got something on your lung. Or something in your lung, to be more precise. I hoped that it would be …’

  He stopped and suddenly sprang up.

  ‘Talking about it won’t do any good,’ he said. ‘Come with me. Put that brush down anywhere you like,’ he added for Colin’s benefit, who really had no idea what to do with it.

  Colin wanted to go with Chloe and the professor, but he would have had to sweep aside a kind of heavy but invisible veil which came down between them. His heart struck up an offbeat and strangely anguished rhythm. He used all his might to resist this and, clenching his fists, got hold of himself again. Collecting all his strength together, he managed to take a few steps forward and then, just as he touched Chloe’s hand, it disappeared.

  She gave her hand to the professor and he led her into a little white room with a chromium ceiling, and the whole of one wall filled by a great shining intricate apparatus.

  ‘I’d prefer it if you sat down,’ said the professor. ‘It won’t take long.’

  In front of the machine there was a red silver screen framed in crystal, and a single black control button scintillating like a gem at the base.

  ‘Are you going to wait?’ the professor asked Colin.

  ‘If I may,’ said Colin.

  The professor switched on. The light fled from the room in a silver stream which shot away under the door and through a ventilating grille just over the machine. Little by little a different kind of light began to glow on the screen.

  39

  Professor Gnawknuckle tapped Colin on the back.

  ‘Don’t worry, my boy,’ he said to him. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  Colin looked down, and looked crushed. Chloe was holding his arm. She was making a tremendous effort to appear gay.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It won’t take long.’

  ‘Sure,’ murmured Colin.

  ‘At any rate,’ added the professor, ‘if she follows my treatment, she’ll probably get better.’

  ‘Probably,’ said Colin.

  They were in the round white waiting-room and Colin’s voice echoed back from the ceiling as if it were coming from a great distance.

  ‘In any case,’ concluded the professor, ‘I’ll send you my bill whatever happens.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Colin. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done, doctor …’

  ‘And if she doesn’t get better,’ said the professor, ‘you must come back and see me again. If all else fails, there’s still an operation – we haven’t even mentioned that yet …’

  ‘Of course,’ said Chloe, pressing Colin’s arm. This time she began to sob.

  The professor pulled his little beard with both hands.

  ‘It’s all very worrying,’ he said.

  They said nothing for several minutes. A nurse could be seen through the transparent door. She knocked twice, very softly. A green light above the door lit up in front of her and said ‘Come In’.

  ‘There’s a gentleman asking me to let your visitors know that Nicholas has arrived.’

  ‘Thank you, Nurse Scritch,’ said the professor. ‘Tell him to wait. They won’t be long.’ And the nurse went off.

  ‘Well!’ murmured Colin, ‘then we’ll say good-bye to you, doctor …’

  ‘Of course …’ said the professor. ‘Good-bye … Look after yourselves. See if you can get away for a few weeks …’

  40

  ‘Wasn’t the verdict favourable?’ said Nicholas without looking round as he turned the ignition key.

  Chloe was still weeping into the white fur and Colin looked dead. The smell of the pavements rose higher and higher. Fumes of ether filled the street.

  ‘Hurry,’ said Colin.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘Oh, things couldn’t be worse!’ said Colin.

  Realizing what he had said he quickly looked at Chloe. He loved her so much – and at that moment he could have killed himself for what he had just said.

  Chloe, shrunk in her corner of the car, bit her knuckles. Her shining hair fell into her face and her high heels crushed her fur hat on the seat. She wept furiously, like a baby, but made no noise.

  ‘Forgive me, Chloe darling,’ said Colin. ‘I’m a brute.’

  He shifted up close to her and held her tight. He kissed her poor frightened eyes and felt the muffled beating of her heart inside her chest.

  ‘You’re going to get better,’ he said. ‘What I meant to say was that nothing could be worse than seeing you ill, no matter what the illness might be …’

  ‘I’m scared …’ said Chloe. ‘I’m sure he’s going to make me have an operation.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Colin. ‘You’ll be cured long before that.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ repeated Nicholas. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  He too looked very unhappy. His usual self-confidence had been punctured.

  ‘My little Chloe,’ said Colin, ‘try to calm down.’

  ‘She’s bound to be cured in no time,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘But this water-lily,’ said Colin, ‘where could she have caught a thing like that?’

  ‘Water-lily?’ queried Nicholas, incredulously.

  ‘She’s got one in her right lung,’ said Colin. ‘At first the professor thought it was only an animal growth. But that’s what it is. We saw it on the screen. It’s already very large, but it seems we ought to be able to get rid of it.’

  ‘Of course we will,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘You can’t imagine what it’s like,’ sobbed Chloe. ‘It hurts so much when it moves!’

  ‘Don’t cry,’ said Nicholas. ‘It won’t do any good and will only tire you out.’ r />
  The car went off. Nicholas drove slowly between the complicated houses. The sun disappeared little by little behind the trees and the wind grew cooler.

  ‘The doctor wants her to go up in the mountains,’ said Colin. ‘He thinks the cold weather might kill the infection …’

  ‘She must have caught it while we were away,’ said Nicholas. ‘That journey was full of horrible horrors like that …’

  ‘He also said that we must keep flowers near her all the time,’ added Colin, ‘to frighten the one inside …’

  ‘Why?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘Because if it blooms,’ said Colin, ‘it will propagate. But if we don’t let it bloom …’

  ‘Is that the only treatment?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘No …’ said Colin.

  ‘What else is there?’

  Colin did not answer straight away. He could feel Chloe crying beside him and he hated the torture he was going to have to inflict on her.

  ‘She mustn’t have anything to drink …’ he said.

  ‘What? …’ said Nicholas. ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘No,’ said Colin.

  ‘She can’t just drink nothing!’

  ‘Just two spoonfuls a day …’ murmured Colin.

  ‘Two spoonfuls! …’ exclaimed Nicholas.

  He said nothing more, but stared hard at the road and drove straight ahead.

  41

  Alyssum rang twice and waited. She thought that the front door seemed narrower than usual. The carpet seemed thin and grey. Nicholas came to the door.

  ‘Hallo! …’ he said. ‘Have you come to see them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alyssum. ‘Are they home?’

  ‘Chloe’s here,’ said Nicholas. ‘Come in.’

  He closed the door. Alyssum looked at the carpet.

  ‘It’s not as light here as it used to be,’ she said. ‘What’s happening to everything?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘It’s funny,’ said Alyssum. ‘Didn’t there used to be a picture here?’

  ‘I can’t really remember …’ said Nicholas.

  He put a thoughtful hand through his hair.

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘you do get the impression that there’s a jinx on things here.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alyssum. ‘You certainly do.’

  She was wearing a brown suit, very well cut and had a big bunch of jonquils in her hand.

  ‘At any rate,’ said Nicholas, ‘you’re blooming. How’re things?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ said Alyssum. ‘Chick bought me a suit. Look …’

  ‘It suits you,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘I’m lucky,’ said Alyssum, ‘that the Marchioness de Mauvoir is the same size as me. It’s second-hand. Chick wanted a scrap of paper that was in one of the pockets, so he bought it for me!’

  She looked at Nicholas and added, ‘You don’t look too well.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Nicholas. ‘I feel as if I’m getting old.’

  ‘Let’s have a look at your passport,’ said Alyssum. He delved into his revolver pocket. ‘Here you are,’ he said.

  Alyssum opened the passport and turned pale. ‘How old were you when this was taken?’ she asked gravely.

  ‘Twenty-nine …’ said Nicholas. ‘Look …’

  He counted the wrinkles. There were at least thirty-five. ‘I can’t understand it …’ he said.

  ‘It must be a mistake,’ said Alyssum, ‘because you don’t look older than twenty-nine.’

  ‘But I only looked twenty-one then,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘We’ll soon get it put right for you,’ said Alyssum.

  ‘I like your hair,’ said Nicholas. ‘Come on, come and see Chloe.’

  ‘What’s wrong with everything here?’ said Alyssum, twice as gravely.

  ‘Oh!’ said Nicholas. ‘It’s her illness. It’s affected us all. It will all get put right soon and then I’ll grow young again.’

  Chloe was lying on the bed, dressed in mauve silk pyjamas with a dressing-gown of pale orange-beige quilted satin. There were lots of flowers all round her, mainly orchids and roses. But there were also hydrangeas, cyclamen, ornettes, baloulettes, rhodridons, camellias, large branches of peach blossom, almond blossom and great armfuls of hibiscus. Her breasts were uncovered and a large blue tendril appeared to be tattooed on the gilded amber skin of the one on the right. Her cheeks were slightly pink, her eyes brilliant but without their old shine, and her hair light and electrified like silken thread.

  ‘You’ll catch cold!’ said Alyssum. ‘Cover yourself up!’

  ‘No,’ murmured Chloe. ‘I’ve got to be like that. Doctor’s orders!’

  ‘What pretty flowers!’ said Alyssum. ‘Colin will ruin himself …’ she added gaily to make Chloe laugh.

  ‘He will,’ murmured Chloe. She gave a feeble smile.

  ‘He’s looking for a job,’ she said in a low voice. ‘That’s why he isn’t here.’

  ‘Why are you talking like that?’ asked Alyssum.

  ‘I’m thirsty …’ said Chloe, breathlessly.

  ‘Do you really only have two spoonfuls a day?’ said Alyssum.

  ‘Yes …’ sighed Chloe.

  Alyssum went close and kissed her.

  ‘You’ll be better in no time.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chloe. ‘I’m going away tomorrow in the car with Nicholas.’

  ‘What about Colin?’ asked Alyssum.

  ‘He’s got to stay,’ said Chloe. ‘He’s got to work. My poor dear Colin! … He’s got no doublezoons left …’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Alyssum.

  ‘The flowers …’ said Chloe.

  ‘Is it getting bigger?’ murmured Alyssum.

  ‘The water-lily?’ said Chloe, very quietly. ‘No … I think it’s going away …’

  ‘So you’re happy then?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chloe. ‘But I’m so thirsty.’

  ‘Why don’t you put the light on?’ asked Alyssum. ‘It’s dark in here.’

  ‘It’s been like it for some time,’ said Chloe. ‘It’s been like it for some time. We can’t do anything about it. You try.’

  Alyssum went to the switch and a feeble halo wobbled round the bulb.

  ‘The bulbs are dying,’ said Chloe. ‘The walls are closing in too. And the window in here is shrivelling up!’

  ‘It can’t be true,’ said Alyssum.

  ‘Just look …’

  The window which used to run round the whole room now filled no more than a couple of rectangles with very rounded corners. A kind of beanstalk had grown up in the middle, joining top and bottom, and blotting out the sun. The ceiling had very obviously sunk lower and the platform under Colin and Chloe’s bed was now only a few inches above the floor.

  ‘How can a thing like this happen?’ asked Alyssum.

  ‘I don’t know …’ said Chloe. ‘Oh, look, here’s a spot of light.’

  The mouse with the black whiskers had just come in, carrying a corner broken from one of the kitchen corridor tiles which sent out a brilliant glow.

  ‘When it gets too dark,’ explained Chloe, ‘it always brings me a little.’

  She stroked the little animal who put its loot on the bedside table.

  ‘It’s nice of you to come and see me, all the same,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Oh,’ said Alyssum, ‘you know I’m very fond of you.’

  ‘I know,’ said Chloe. ‘And how’s Chick?’

  ‘Oh, fine!’ said Alyssum. ‘He’s bought me a suit.’

  ‘It’s pretty,’ said Chloe. ‘It suits you too.’

  She stopped speaking.

  ‘Are you in pain?’ said Alyssum. ‘You poor darling.’

  She went over and put her hand on Chloe’s cheek.

  ‘Yes,’ groaned Chloe. ‘And I’m so thirsty.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alyssum. ‘If I kissed you, it might quench it a little.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Chloe.

  Alyssum leaned over her.
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  Chloe sighed, ‘Your lips are so cool …’

  Alyssum smiled. Her eyes were damp.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘Not far,’ said Chloe. ‘Up in the mountains.’

  She turned on her left side.

  ‘Do you love Chick very, very much?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alyssum. ‘But he loves his books more than me.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that,’ said Chloe. ‘Maybe it’s true. But if I hadn’t been married to Colin, then I’d have been so pleased if you could have lived with him.’

  Alyssum kissed her again.

  42

  Chick came out of the shop. There was nothing in there to interest him. He walked along, looking down at his feet in their buffalo-hide shoes, and was surprised to see that one was trying to lead him one way, and the other in the opposite direction. He thought for a few moments, mentally bisected the angle between the two, and set off straight along the line thus produced. He narrowly escaped being run over by a fat greasy taxi and owed his salvation entirely to a graceful leap which landed him right on the feet of a man on the pavement who let out a curse and went straight into hospital to be put together again.

  Chick went on his way. There was a bookshop straight ahead. He was in Jimmy Noone Street and the sign was painted in imitation of the one outside Lulu White’s Mahogany Hall. He pushed the door, which pushed him equally roughly back, so he went in through the shop-window without any further argument.

  The bookseller, perched on top of the complete works of John Galsworthy who had conceived them especially for this purpose, was smoking the pipe of peace. It was a very pretty one made of briar and he was constantly stuffing it with olive leaves. By his side there was also a spittoon for any bait he might swallow, a wet towel for refreshing his temples, and a bottle of Provodka to back up the effects of his smoking.

  He gave Chick a smelly disembodied look.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘Just to look at your books …’ replied Chick.

  ‘Look then,’ said the man, and he took aim at the spittoon with his lips – but it was only a false alarm.

  Chick went into the bowels of the shop. There was an atmosphere favourable for discovery. He squashed a few insects as he walked farther in. The place smelt of old leather and the smoke of burning olive leaves – which makes a pretty foul stink.