Mood Indigo

  ‘It is his birthday, after all,’ frowned Colin.

  Through the opening between the double doors he could see the other boys and girls. A dozen of them were dancing, but most of the others were standing close to each other, with their hands behind their backs, in pairs of the same sex, exchanging extremely unconvincing impressions with even more unconvincing expressions.

  ‘Take off your coat,’ said Isis. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you the way to the boys’ cloakroom.’

  He followed her, squeezing past another pair of girls who were emerging, in the opposite direction, along with the compacted sounds of snapping bags and puffing powder, from Isis’s bedroom which had been transformed into a girls’ cloakroom for the occasion. Iron hooks and rails, borrowed from the butcher’s, hung from the ceiling, and as decorations Isis had also borrowed a couple of closely skinned sheep’s heads to grin at the end of each row.

  The boys’ cloakroom, which had been set up in Isis’s father’s study, consisted solely of the suppression of all the furniture in the said room. One simply unwrapped one’s carcass on the floor – and that was that. Colin gave a brilliant performance, but lingered for a second in front of a mirror.

  ‘Come on! Hurry up!’ said Isis impatiently. ‘I want to take you to meet some really charming girls.’

  He held both her wrists and drew her towards him.

  ‘Your dress is a dream,’ he said.

  It was a simple little dress of almond-green cashmere, with great gilded ceramic buttons, and the low back was filled in with a wrought-iron portcullis.

  ‘Do you like it?’ said Isis.

  ‘It’s a dream of a dream,’ said Colin. ‘Can you put your hand through the bars without being bitten?’

  ‘Better not try,’ said Isis.

  She broke loose, seized Colin’s hand and dragged him to the centre of maximum perspiration. They elbowed their way past a sharp member of the sexy sex and a sexy member of the sharp sex who had just arrived, slipped round a corner of the corridor and reached the central fulcrum of fun by going through the dining-room door.

  ‘Just a second! …’ said Colin. ‘Are Alyssum and Chick there already?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Isis. ‘Come on, this is …’

  Half the girls were presentable. One of them was wearing an almond-green cashmere dress with great buttons of gilded pottery and, in its low back, a modesty vest of the most unusual design.

  ‘That’s the one I want to meet first, please,’ said Colin.

  Isis shook him and told him to behave himself.

  ‘Are you going to be a good boy, my lad? …’

  But he already had his eyes on a different girl, and was dragging his guide towards her.

  ‘This is Colin,’ said Isis. ‘Colin, this is Chloe.’

  Colin took a tremendous gulp. His mouth felt as if it were stuffed with the frizzled crumbs of burnt doughnuts.

  ‘Hallo!’ said Chloe.

  ‘Ha … Have you been put into an arrangement by Duke Ellington?’ asked Colin … And then he ran away because he knew he had said something very silly.

  Chick grabbed him by the flap on the back of his jacket.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going? You can’t run away like that. Look what I’ve got! …’

  He pulled a little book bound in red morocco out of his pocket.

  ‘It’s the first edition of Heartre’s Spewpuke Paradox…’

  ‘So you managed to find it at last?’ said Colin.

  Then he remembered that he was running away – and so he started to run again.

  Alyssum stood in his way.

  ‘Do you mean to say you’re going home without even having one tiny little dance with me?’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Colin, ‘but I’ve just done something idiotic and I can’t possibly stay any longer.’

  ‘But if somebody looks at you like this, how can you possibly refuse?’

  ‘Oh, Alyssum …’ groaned Colin, putting his arm round her and nestling his cheek into her hair.

  ‘What’s the matter, my poor dear old Colin?’

  ‘I’ve put my damned silly foot into it and ruined everything, blast it! See that girl there? …’

  ‘You mean Chloe? …’

  ‘Do you know her? …’ said Colin. ‘I said the silliest thing to her, and that’s why I was running home.’

  He did not add that it was as if one of those German brass bands where you can hear nothing but the big drums was playing at full blast inside his noon-blue shirt.

  ‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’ said Alyssum.

  Chloe had red lips, dark brown hair, a gay happy smile, and a dress that might just as well not have been there at all.

  ‘I daren’t answer you!’ said Colin.

  So he left Alyssum, and went to ask Chloe. She looked at him. And then laughed and put her hand on his shoulder. He felt her cool fingers against the back of his neck. He curtailed the distance between their two bodies by temporarily disembraining both heads of his right biceps which had just received a judiciously commissioned cranial communication.

  Chloe went on looking at him. She shook her long silky hair out of her blue eyes, and with a firm gesture of determination applied her temples to Colin’s cheek.

  An enormous silence spread out around them, and the major part of the rest of the world faded into insignificance.

  But, as they might have expected, the record came to an end. Then, and only then, did Colin come down to earth and notice that the ceiling was made of transparent perspex and that the people upstairs were looking down at them. A wide border of water-irises sealed off the bottoms of the walls, and variously coloured vapours were escaping here and there through specially made openings in the ceiling. He also noticed that his friend Isis was standing in front of him with some refreshments on an onyx platter.

  ‘No thanks, Isis,’ said Chloe, tossing her hair.

  ‘Yes please, Isis,’ said Colin, helping a toad out of the hole and himself to a finger of Welsh rarebit pie and a Bombay duck’s egg.

  ‘You should have taken some,’ he said to Chloe. ‘They’re very good.’

  And then he coughed because he had swallowed by mistake a hedgehog quill that was hidden in one of the delicacies.

  Chloe laughed, and her pretty teeth glistened.

  ‘What is it?’

  He had to turn his back on her to finish choking and, in the end, he managed to stop. Chloe came back with two glasses.

  ‘Drink this,’ she said, ‘it’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Colin. ‘Is it champagne?’

  ‘It’s a kind of cocktail.’

  He swallowed the whole glass and choked again. Chloe couldn’t stop laughing. Chick and Alyssum came up. ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Chick.

  ‘He doesn’t know how to drink!’ said Chloe.

  Alyssum tapped him gently on the back and the echo sounded like a Balinese gong. Everybody immediately stopped dancing and went in to dinner.

  ‘There we are,’ said Chick. ‘Now we’re all quiet. How about putting on something really good? …’

  He winked at Colin.

  ‘Let’s do the Squint!’ suggested Alyssum.

  Chick dug through the pile of records near the record-player.

  ‘Dance with me, Chick,’ Alyssum said to him.

  ‘I’ve found something,’ said Chick. ‘Let’s put it on.’

  It was a boogie-woogie.

  Chloe was waiting.

  ‘You’re not going to do the Squint to that, are you? …’ said Colin, horrified.

  ‘Why not? …’ asked Chick.

  ‘Don’t look at them,’ Colin said to Chloe.

  He bent down his head and kissed her between the ear and shoulder. She trembled, but did not take her head away.

  Colin did not take away his lips either.

  Alyssum and Chick, however, gave themselves up, body and soul, to an outstanding display of the Squint – the way the coloured kids
do it.

  The record soon came to an end. Alyssum broke loose and looked for something to play next, while Chick dropped flat on to the divan in front of Colin and Chloe. He grabbed them by the legs and brought them tumbling down beside him.

  ‘Well, my lambs,’ he said, ‘having fun?’

  Colin sat up and Chloe snuggled up comfortably beside him.

  ‘She’s a lovely kid, isn’t she?’ said Chick.

  Chloe smiled. Colin said nothing, but put his arm round Chloe’s shoulders and absent-mindedly began to play with the top button of her dress – which opened down the front.

  Alyssum came back.

  ‘Move along, Chick. I want to sit between you and Colin.’

  Her choice of record was highly appropriate. It was ‘Chloe’, arranged by Duke Ellington. Colin nibbled a corner of Chloe’s hair just behind her ear. And murmured, ‘It’s you. It’s you!’

  And before Chloe could say anything, all the others came back to dance, having realized that it wasn’t time for dinner after all.

  ‘Oh! …’ said Chloe. ‘What a pity! …’

  12

  ‘Well, are you going to see her again?’ asked Chick.

  They were sitting down to Nicholas’s latest creation – pumpkin and walnuts.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Colin. ‘I don’t know what to do. She’s such a nice girl … Last time, when we were out with Isis, she drank an awful lot of champagne …’

  ‘And it suited her marvellously,’ said Chick. ‘She’s extremely pretty. Don’t look so miserable! … Guess what I found today? A copy of Heartre’s Choice Before Eructation printed on an unperforated toilet roll.’

  ‘Fine. But where d’you get all the money from?’ said Colin.

  It was Chick’s turn to look glum.

  ‘It did cost me a lot, but I can’t do without it,’ he said. ‘I need Heartre. I’m building up a collection and I must have everything he’s done.’

  ‘But he won’t stop doing things,’ said Colin. ‘He writes at least five articles a week …’

  ‘I know,’ said Chick.

  Colin helped him to some more pumpkin.

  ‘What can I do to see Chloe again?’ he said.

  Chick looked at him and smiled.

  ‘I can see I’m boring you stiff with my stories about Jean Pulse Heartre,’ he said … ‘I wish I could do something to help you. But what can I do? …’

  ‘It’s awful,’ said Colin. ‘I’m full of despair and yet, at the same time, I’m horribly happy. It’s a nice kind of feeling to want something as badly as that.’

  ‘I wish,’ he went on, ‘I were lying deep in lightly toasted grass, with sunshine and warm earth all around – the grass crisp and yellow as straw, you know what I mean, with hundreds of little buzzing insects, and clumps of soft dry moss too. One lies flat on one’s tummy and stares. A hedge, some pebbles, a few gnarled trees and half-a-dozen leaves complete the scene. They’re a great help.’

  ‘And Chloe?’ said Chick.

  ‘And Chloe, of course,’ said Colin. ‘Chloe on my mind.’

  They were quiet for a few moments. A bottle seized the opportunity presented by these moments to send out a crystalline sound that bounced backwards and forwards between the walls.

  ‘Have some more wine,’ said Colin.

  ‘Yes,’ said Chick. ‘Thanks.’

  Nicholas brought in the rest of the meal – pineapple shortbread with orange cream.

  ‘Thank you, Nicholas,’ said Colin. ‘What would you do if you were me and you wanted to see a girl you were in love with again?’

  ‘Good Lord, sir,’ said Nicholas, ‘I see what Mr Colin means … But I must confess, sir, that such a thing has never happened to me.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Chick. ‘You’re as tough as Tarzan. But everybody isn’t like you!’

  ‘Thank you for the compliment, sir. I’m very touched,’ said Nicholas. ‘If I were Mr Colin, sir,’ he continued, addressing himself to Colin, ‘then I would try – using as an agent the person at whose home I had met the person whose presence Mr Colin seems to be missing, sir – to gather what information I could concerning the habits and whereabouts of this said person.’

  ‘Despite its convoluted phraseology, Nicholas,’ said Colin, ‘I think that your idea does indeed have possibilities. But you know how silly you are when you’re in love. And that’s why I didn’t tell Chick that I’d thought of doing exactly what you’ve described a long time ago.’

  Nicholas went back to the kitchen.

  ‘He’s priceless,’ said Colin.

  ‘Yes,’ said Chick. ‘He certainly knows how to cook.’

  They drank some more wine. Nicholas came back with an enormous cake.

  ‘Here’s an extra dessert,’ he said.

  Colin picked up a knife, but held himself back just as he was going to cut the first slice.

  ‘It’s too beautiful to cut,’ he said. ‘Let’s wait a moment.’

  ‘Procrastination,’ said Chick, ‘is a prelude in a minor key.’

  ‘What made you say that?’ said Colin.

  He took Chick’s glass and filled it with golden wine that was as heavy as syrup but flowed like trampled ether.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Chick. ‘It came without thinking.’

  ‘Taste!’ said Colin.

  They both emptied their glasses.

  ‘It’s wild! …’ said Chick, whose eyes began to glow and sparkle like traffic lights.

  Colin put his hand on his heart.

  ‘It’s better than that,’ he said. ‘It’s out of this world.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Chick. ‘Because you’re out of this world too.’

  ‘I’m sure that if we drink enough,’ said Colin, ‘Chloe will walk in at any moment.’

  ‘There’s no proof!’ said Chick.

  ‘Are you daring me?’ said Colin, holding out his glass.

  Chick filled them both.

  ‘Wait a moment!’ said Colin.

  He put out both the centre light and the little lamp on the table. The only light left in the room came from the green lamp shimmering over the Scottish ikon where Colin usually carried out his meditations.

  ‘Oh …’ gasped Chick.

  In the crystal goblets the wine shone with a trembling phosphorescent glow which seemed to emanate from a myriad luminous spots of every colour beyond the rainbow.

  ‘Drink up!’ said Colin.

  They drank. The sparkle stayed on their lips. Colin put on the lights again. He seemed to hesitate for a moment.

  ‘We aren’t going to make a habit of it,’ he said, ‘so let’s finish the bottle.’

  ‘How about cutting the cake?’ said Chick.

  Colin seized a silver knife and began to carve a spiral into the shiny white icing. He suddenly stopped and looked in surprise at what he had done.

  ‘I’m going to try something,’ he said.

  He took a holly leaf from the sprig on the table. Holding the cake in one hand he began spinning it round quickly on the tip of his finger, and with the other hand he put one of the spikes of the holly into the groove.

  ‘Listen! …’he said.

  Chick listened. It was ‘Chloe’, in an arrangement by Duke Ellington.

  Chick looked at Colin. He had turned very pale.

  Chick took the knife from his hands and plunged it firmly into the cake. It split into two, and inside it there was a new article by Heartre for Chick, and a date with Chloe for Colin.

  13

  Colin stood on the corner of the square, waiting for Chloe. The square was perfectly round, with a circular church in the middle surrounded by pigeons, single flower-beds, double benches and, all round the edge, a stream of cars and buses. The sun too was waiting for Chloe, but it was passing the time while waiting in making shadows, germinating the seeds of wild oats in inconvenient cracks, flinging open shutters, pushing up blinds and making a lamppost, that was still alight because an elebeast had forgotten it, hang its head in shame.
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  Colin rolled back the tops of his gloves and rehearsed his first sentence. This grew quickly shorter and shorter as the moment drew nearer. He had no idea what he and Chloe were going to do. Maybe he could take her to a tea-shop, although he wasn’t very fond of them. Middle-aged ladies gobbling cream cakes by the dozen with their little fingers sticking out always made him feel sad. He could only visualize stuffing as an honourable pastime for men as it took none of their natural dignity away from them. He couldn’t take Chloe to the pictures – she would never agree to that. Nor to the Parliadium – she’d be bored. Nor to the human races – she’d be scared. Nor to the Cobblered Vic or the Old Witch – there’s Noh playing there. Nor to the Mittish Bruiseum – there are wolves in their Assyrian folds. Nor to Whiskeyloo – there’s not a single train there … only Pullman hearses.

  ‘Hallo! …’

  Chloe came up behind him. He quickly pulled off his glove, got tangled up with it inside out, punched himself on the nose, yelled ‘Yowl’ … and took her hand. She gave a tremendous smile.

  ‘You’re very clumsy! …’

  A long-haired fur coat the same colour as her hair, a little fur hat, and Alice boots with fur tops.

  She took Colin’s arm.

  ‘Let me take your arm. You seem a bit clueless today! …’

  ‘Things did go better last time,’ admitted Colin.

  She laughed again, looked at him, and laughed even louder.

  ‘You’re laughing at me,’ said Colin, crestfallen and feeling sorry for himself. ‘It’s not very kind of you.’

  ‘Are you pleased to see me?’ said Chloe.

  ‘Oh, yes! Oh, yes! …’ said Colin.

  They started walking, letting the first pavement they came across guide their steps. A little pink cloud came down from the air and drew up close beside them.

  ‘I’m going your way,’ it winked.

  ‘Let’s step on then,’ said Colin.

  And the cloud wrapped itself round them. Inside the cloud it was warm, and it smelt of candy-floss and cinnamon.

  ‘Nobody can see us any more! …’ said Colin. ‘But we can still see everything that is going on! …’