Mood Indigo

  The little trucks were all lined up inside the door of the church. Colin and Alyssum got into the first one and went straight off. They immediately found they were in a shadowy vaulted tunnel smelling of religion. The truck thundered along the track like lightning, and echoing music skidded along behind them. At the end of the tunnel the truck pushed through a pair of doors, turned sharply, and Saint Roland o’ the Kirk appeared in a green spotlight. He stuck out his tongue at them, and Alyssum clung tightly to Colin. Spiders’ webs swept across their cheeks, and fragments of prayers sprang into their minds. The second vision showed the Virgin and the third was God himself, who had a black eye and looked horribly grim and grumpy. Colin managed to remember a whole prayer and quickly whispered the words to Alyssum …

  The truck came out under the dome with a deafening crash and stopped dead. Colin got out, let Alyssum go to her seat and then waited for Chloe who emerged soon after them.

  They looked at the inside of the church. An enormous crowd of people was there. Everybody they knew had come. They were all listening to the music and making the most of the splendour and fun.

  The Husher and Adam Browbeadle, leapfrogging about in their best robes, appeared heralding Father Phigga who had the Hamarishi Pibosh on his arm. Everybody stood up, and the Hamarishi Pibosh sat down in a big velvet chair. The noise of the other chairs scraping on the floor tiles was very harmonious.

  The music came to a sudden stop. Father Phigga knelt down before the altar, banged his head three times on the carpet, and the Unisexton Bedull went down to lead Colin and Chloe to their places while the Husher was arranging the Twenty-Four-Sheet Music Boys on each side of the altar. By now a profound silence had filled the church and everybody was holding their breath.

  Great rays of light were shining everywhere, trying to pick out anything golden so that they could burst out again into every direction. The wide yellow and purple painted stripes made the nave of the church look like the abdomen of an enormous sleeping wasp – seen from the inside.

  Very high up the Minstrels began to hum a distant chorus. The clouds came in to listen. They smelt of coriander and mountain grass. It was warm in the church and the audience felt as if it were wrapped in an atmosphere of gracious cotton-wool.

  Kneeling before the altar on a pair of inflated prayer-cushions covered in white velvet, Colin and Chloe, hand in hand, were waiting. Father Phigga was quickly flicking through a big book in front of them because he couldn’t remember the recipe. From time to time he would throw a glance at Chloe because he was very taken by her dress. At last he stopped turning the pages, lifted his head, made a sign to the conductor with his hand, and the orchestra attacked the overture.

  Father Phigga took a deep breath and began to sing, supported by a backing of eleven baffled trumpets playing in unison. The Hamarishi Pibosh was quietly dozing, his hand on his cross-bucolic. He knew that they would wake him up when it was his turn to sing.

  The overture and prelude were written on old classic blues themes. For the anthem, Colin had asked them to play an arrangement by Duke Ellington of a popular old song, ‘Chloe’.

  Over the rail, beyond Colin, you could see Jesus on his big black cross. He seemed pleased that he had been invited and was watching everything with keen interest. Colin was holding Chloe’s hand and smiled shyly up at Jesus. He began to feel a little tired. The service had cost him quite a lot – five thousand doublezoons – but he was happy because it had all turned out so well.

  There were flowers all round the altar. And he was very fond of the music they were playing at that moment. He looked at Father Phigga and let him see that he had recognized the tune. Then he let his eyes close gently, leaned forward very slightly, and said ‘I will’.

  Chloe said ‘I will’ too, and Father Phigga shook both their hands with great vigour. The orchestra struck up again louder than ever, and the Hamarishi Pibosh got up to make the sermon in his ebony diction. The Husher hurriedly slipped between two rows of the congregation to bring his cane down smartly on Chick’s fingers because he was looking at his new book instead of paying attention.

  22

  The Hamarishi Pibosh had gone. Colin and Chloe were in the undervestry collecting all the handshakes that their friends were giving them to bring them luck. Some people brought them useful tips for the night, and a passing pedlar suggested they might like some helpfully instructive photos. They began to feel very weary. The music was still playing and people were dancing in the church where they were serving holy ices and pious refreshments with little codfish sandwiches. Father Phigga had got back into his everyday clothes with a big hole in the seat of his pants – but he was looking forward to buying himself a new outfit out of the five thousand doublezoons. Moreover, he had just swindled the band in the traditional manner by refusing to pay for the conductor’s name since he had pancaked out before the start of the service. Adam Browbeadle and the Husher were undressing the Twenty-Four-Sheet Music Boys and folding up their fancy costumes. The Husher was making a special fuss of the little girls. The Hush-Hushers and Offsidesmen, taken on as extras, had scooted. The Daubers’ van was waiting outside. They were getting ready to scrub off the yellow and purple stripes and put them back into horrible caked-up old tins.

  Standing on each side of Colin and Chloe, Alyssum and Chick and Isis and Nicholas were also making a collection of handshakes. The Kissitwell brothers were just handing in theirs. When Pegasus saw his brother getting too close to Isis, he pinched his bottom as viciously as he could, yelling out at the same time about what a terrible pervert he was.

  There were still a dozen people left. They were Colin and Chloe’s very special friends who were going to the wedding reception and feast. They all left the church, taking one last look at the flowers on the altar. The cold air hit them when they reached the steps outside. Chloe began to cough and hurried down the steps into the warm waiting car. She huddled up into the cushions and waited for Colin.

  The others stood on the steps and watched the Minstrels go off – because they were all badly in debt they were being taken away in a black van, whose hooter played the tune ‘Maria’. They were squeezed up inside it as tightly as a bunch of asparagus so, to get their own back, they all blew into their instruments which, when the fiddlers did it, made the most abominable din that had ever been heard in the district.

  23

  Colin’s bedroom was a perfect cube in shape, which made the ceiling seem fairly lofty. The daylight came in through a window two feet high which ran all the way round the walls at a height of about four feet ten from the floor. The floor had thick burnt-orange close-carpeting, and the walls were hung with natural leather.

  The bed did not stand on the floor, but was on a projecting platform half-way up the wall. It was reached by means of a little ladder of perfumigated oak with satin bronze and organza aluminium fittings. The space under the platform with the bed on it became the dressing-room. There were bookshelves in it, some comfortable armchairs and a photo of the Dalai-Lama.

  Colin was still asleep. Chloe had just woken up and was looking down at him. Her hair was dishevelled and she looked even younger that way. There was only one sheet left on the bed – the one underneath them. The rest had flown all round the room – which was heated by currents of warm air. She was sitting now, her knees drawn up to her chin, rubbing her eyes – then she stretched out and let herself fall back. The pillow curved gently under the charming weight of her head.

  Colin was flat on his belly, cuddling the bolster and drooling like a big baroque cherub. Chloe started laughing and knelt down beside him to give him a vigorous shake. He woke up, raised himself on his wrists, sat up and kissed her before he opened his eyes. Chloe allowed him to do all this without objecting, carefully guiding him to all the best places. Her golden skin was as soft and sweet as marzipan.

  The grey mouse with the black whiskers climbed all the way up the ladder and came to tell them that Nicholas was waiting. They remembered they were going on the
ir honeymoon and leapt out of bed. When the mouse realized that they weren’t looking, it delved deeply into a giant box of sapodilla goodies that was at the side of the bed.

  They washed themselves very quickly, put on matching outfits and hurried to the kitchen. Nicholas had asked them to take breakfast in his kingdom. The mouse followed them, but stopped in the corridor. It wanted to find out why the suns weren’t coming through as brilliantly as usual, and give them a good telling-off when they did.

  ‘Well,’ said Nicholas, ‘did you sleep well?’

  Nicholas’s eyes had dark rings round them and the rest of his complexion matched.

  ‘Marvellously,’ said Chloe, letting herself sink on to a chair as she was finding it hard to stay standing.

  ‘How about you?’ asked Colin, who stumbled and picked himself up again once he was sitting on the floor, having made no effort to catch himself on the way down.

  ‘I took Isis back home,’ said Nicholas, ‘and she gave me a drink like a good girl should.’

  ‘Weren’t her parents there?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas, ‘just her two little cousins, and they absolutely insisted that I should stay.’

  ‘How old were they?’ asked Colin insidiously.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Nicholas, ‘but from the feel of them, I’d say that one was about sixteen and the other eighteen.’

  ‘Did you spend the whole night there?’ asked Colin.

  ‘Hrmm! …’ said Nicholas … ‘All three of them were a little bit squiffy, so … so I had to put them all to bed. Isis’s bed is very wide – the kind where there is always room for one more. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I slept with them.’

  ‘Slept? …’ said Chloe … ‘The bed may have been wide, but it must have been very hard because you don’t look as if you got much rest.’

  Nicholas gave a very unnatural little cough and started fiddling with his electrical gadgets.

  ‘Taste this,’ he said, trying to change the subject.

  It was some apricots stuffed with dates and figs in an unctuous syrup that was candied on top.

  ‘Will you be all right for driving?’ asked Colin.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘This is scrumptious,’ said Chloe. ‘Do bring some with us, Nicholas.’

  ‘I’d prefer something more fortifying,’ he replied.

  And under the eyes of Colin and Chloe he concocted a revolting brew for himself. Into a glass of white wine he mixed a spoonful of vinegar, the yolks of five eggs, two oysters, four ounces of raw minced meat, some fresh cream and a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. The whole lot slipped down his gullet with a noise like a cyclotron doing a ton.

  ‘Well?’ said Colin, who had almost split his sides laughing when he saw the face Nicholas was pulling.

  ‘That’s better …’ replied Nicholas, after a tremendous gulp.

  Indeed, the bags under his eyes shrivelled up as if they had been smoothed away with benzine, and his whole complexion seemed to take on a new brilliance and glow. He shook his feathers up, clenched his fists, and roared. Chloe looked at him, slightly worried.

  ‘You haven’t got stomach-ache, Nicholas?’

  ‘Of course not! …’ he bellowed. ‘It’s all gone. You drink the rest – and then we’ll set off.’

  24

  The big white car carefully carved its way over the lumps and bumps and through the ruts and furrows of the groovy road. Colin and Chloe, sitting at the back, looked sadly and soulfully at the passing landscape. The sky was overcast. Red birds flew as low as the telegraph wires, going up and down with the same monotonous rhythm, and their harsh piercing shrieks echoed back from the leaden water of the long never-ending puddles.

  ‘Why are we coming this way?’ Chloe asked Colin.

  ‘It’s a short cut,’ said Colin. ‘But you are forced to take it. The main road is worn out. Everyone kept on using it because the weather was always fine there – and now there’s only this road left. Don’t worry. Nicholas is a very good driver.’

  ‘It’s this unusual light,’ said Chloe.

  Her heart was beating fast, as if it had been squeezed inside a stiff, crusty shell. Colin put his arm round Chloe and, slipping his hand under her hair, playfully pinched the back of her graceful neck as if he were picking up a little kitten.

  ‘Oh …’ said Chloe, letting her head sink into her shoulders while Colin tickled her. ‘Hold me close … I’m so scared when I’m all alone …’

  ‘Would you like the yellow windows?’ said Colin.

  ‘I’d like all the colours …’

  Colin pressed green, blue, yellow and red buttons and a succession of correspondingly coloured panes appeared in place of the plain ones round the car. It was like being on the inside of a rainbow, and striped shadows danced over the white fur between each telegraph pole. Chloe began to feel better.

  Sparse and faded green moss ran along both sides of the road and, every now and again, there was a gnarled gesticulating tree. Not a breath of wind rumpled the cloaks of mud which squelched under the wheel of the car. Nicholas worked hard to keep the car under control and struggled to make it stick to the middle of the subsiding roadway.

  He looked round for a second.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said to Chloe, ‘it won’t be like this for long. The road gets better soon.’

  Chloe looked out of the window by her side and shuddered. A squamaceous monster was standing beside a telegraph pole staring at them.

  ‘Colin, look! … What’s that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think it’s dangerous …’

  ‘It’s only a man repairing the telegraph wires,’ Nicholas called over his shoulder. ‘They’re dressed like that so that they don’t get all muddy inside …’

  ‘But it … it was horribly ugly …’ murmured Chloe.

  Colin kissed her.

  ‘Don’t be scared, Chloe dear, it was only a man …’

  The road began to feel firmer under the wheels of the car. A glimmer of light tinted the horizon.

  ‘Look,’ said Colin. ‘The sun is rising …’

  Nicholas shook his head to show that he was wrong.

  ‘It’s the copper mines,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to go through them.’

  The mouse, sitting by the side of Nicholas, cocked up an ear.

  ‘It’s true, I’m afraid,’ said Nicholas. ‘But it will be warmer there.’

  The road took several more turns. Now steam began to rise from the mud. The car was surrounded by white clouds with a strong smell of copper. Then the mud became completely solid and the old road emerged, cracked and dusty. Far ahead the air was trembling as if it were hovering over a great furnace.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Chloe. ‘Can’t we go another way?’

  ‘It’s the only way,’ said Colin. ‘Would you like to look at the Cookery Book? … I’ve brought it with us …’

  They had brought no other luggage, counting on buying everything on the way.

  ‘Shall I lower the coloured windows?’ asked Colin again.

  ‘Please,’ said Chloe. ‘The light isn’t so bad now.’

  The road twisted again sharply, and they were suddenly in the midst of the copper mines. The mines went down on each side in steps, a few yards at a time. Enormous deserts of arid greenish copper unrolled out into infinity. Hundreds of men, dressed in goggled dungarees, were moving around in the flames. Others were stacking up the fuel in regular geometric pyramids. Electric trucks were continuously bringing more. Under the effects of the heat, the copper melted and ran in red streams fringed with spongy slag that was as hard as stone. At certain spots it was directed off into great reservoirs where pumps poured it into oval pipes.

  ‘What a terrible job! …’ said Chloe.

  ‘They’re very well paid,’ said Nicholas.

  Some of the men stopped to watch the car go past. The only thing that could be seen in their eyes was a look of lightly m
ocking pity. They were big and strong, and they looked as if nothing could harm them.

  ‘They don’t like us,’ said Chloe. ‘Let’s go away.’

  ‘It’s because they’re working …’ said Colin.

  ‘That’s not a reason,’ said Chloe.

  Nicholas put his foot on the accelerator. The car whizzed over the frowning road, breaking through the barrier of noise from the machines and the smelting copper. ‘We’ll soon be on the old road again,’ said Nicholas.

  25

  ‘Why were they so scornful?’ asked Chloe. ‘Work isn’t so wonderful …’

  ‘They’ve been told that it is,’ said Colin. ‘And lots of people do believe that it’s good. But nobody really thinks it is. They do it out of habit and precisely in order not to have to think about it.’

  ‘At any rate, it’s stupid to do work that machines could do just as well.’

  ‘Those machines have still got to be made …’ said Colin. ‘And who’s going to do that?’

  ‘Mm … Of course,’ said Chloe. ‘If you want an egg, you need a chicken – but once you’ve got a chicken you can have millions of eggs. So it’s best to begin with the chicken.’

  ‘What we need to find out,’ said Colin, ‘is who it is that stops people making such machines. They must need more time. People waste their time living, so that there’s none left over for them to work in.’