The Last Word

Eleven

She told Harry to drive carefully and let Mamoon sleep. He’d wake up in an hour or so and they would have sexy fun later. From the car window, she made her last goodbyes and waved at some of the departing guests, one of whom was vomiting in the gutter.

Since Liana was pouting and swaying ridiculously as if she would burst under some inner pressure, Harry removed one hand from the steering wheel and pressed it against her chest.

‘Careful,’ she cried. ‘I’ve got a rose quartz crystal in my bra!’ When Harry said idly that he thought her guests had enjoyed the food, she said, ‘If you think that, you’re a fool who knows nothing about Indian cuisine. You’ll never be constipated again. Didn’t you see it was a tragedy? I don’t want to be around these grotesques.’

‘What you really want, Liana, is to be a great lady, a fashionable society hostess, with a salon, where Somerset Maugham, Arnold Bennett and, on rare occasions, Thomas Hardy, drop by for tea and talk about what’s on at the theatre.’

She said, ‘I would have to be in London to do that. Have you ever noticed how little Mamoon does for me?’

‘But you’re Tolstoy’s wife,’ said Harry. ‘Aren’t the consolations of status and respect enough?’

‘I only arranged that unappreciated dinner because Mamoon takes me nowhere. You know Dirty Ben, my psychic with the filthy mind?’

‘The short-term psychic? Is that the one you said is a tranny?’

‘Darling, with those nails he must be.’

‘Liana, can I ask, what is the point of hiring a psychic who can only see a maximum of six months ahead? Isn’t that like having a blind surgeon?’

‘I asked Dirty Ben,’ she said, ‘can’t you set Mamoon on fire? During the next six months do you see any sex for me? No way — he thinks I’ve been cursed by my ex-husband, and asked for seven hundred pounds to lift the evil intention.’

‘No chance of a loyalty discount?’

‘Harry, I’m asking you, what choice did I have? Mamoon hardly talks to me. I wrote about my need in big handwriting and left my diary out. What sort of husband walks past his wife’s diary without a second glance?’

‘Does he touch you?’

‘Not even on my birthday! For me the sacred lives inside the profane. Can a person go mad for lack of passion and love? Aren’t I still touchable? I guess you might know, Harry.’

He glanced at her. ‘You are a succulent woman, juicy as a dolphin, and at your sexual peak too. A woman of unused potential with much life ahead. Particularly during the next six months.’

‘Though I tried, my forties were not fulfilling,’ she said. ‘Tesoro, dear, divorce and all that rather dries one out.’

She described her literary admiration for Mamoon, and how, in a moment, it had turned into love. For her, it had been an ‘awakening’ — sexually, spiritually, emotionally. She saw the point of the world; everything added up and her soul filled with light and life. This went on for the first three years. Then the light began to flicker. ‘At the moment he has nothing to give me and no intention of giving it.’

Harry said, ‘You were slipping books into paper bags, Liana. Now you have the house, the land, and dogs that wag their tails at you. When Mamoon goes, you’ll get the money and you’ll be regarded with wonder as the keeper of the eternal flame. You have a lifetime’s work ahead of you, refusing permission for this or that, and attacking whichever journalist has called your husband a charlatan faggot.’

‘Harry, it is worse for women, Harry, you don’t understand. You could find a wife when you’re seventy-five. He will be my last lover. Perhaps my last man ever, and I will never be loved again. What man will go near me after Mamoon?’

‘You will have had a great artist for a husband. Liana, do you still get horny?’

Although Mamoon was snoring, Liana turned to ensure that he was truly asleep. Harry’s iPod was on low, playing Brazilian songs and Nordic jazz — soft trumpets and mellow slow pianos. Harry could hear Liana breathing rapidly. He let her listen to the music, and concentrated on driving through the dark narrow lanes overhung with bushes and trees, dimming and raising his lights as he went.

She leaned across and whispered, ‘I’m rabid, dear, rabid. I said to Julia, ideally I wouldn’t want to go without love for more than a month.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She screamed — more like a week. She informed me that a woman who doesn’t have an orgasm a day will get dry skin, and lines. According to her you should rub your lover’s semen into your forehead.’

‘She does have a milky look.’

Liana went on, ‘I shouldn’t admit this — don’t include it in the book — I put out my arms and hugged a tree.’

‘Dogs piss against trees, Liana.’ He said, ‘Would you like me to talk to him about it?’

‘Would you? And, if you don’t —’ and here she looked at him hard, ‘I might start asking you where you go at night.’

‘What?’

‘When it’s dark.’

He knew she was watching him. He said, ‘When it gets dark I like to relax, Liana. I like to drive. Sometimes I go across to Stonehenge, climb over the fence and press my cheek against the ancient rock. The relaxation helps me think about the book. My paperwork, as you call it.’

‘I’m saying this kindly, Harry. Be very careful. I respect your secrets, but save such Stonehenge nonsense for your girlfriend. I’m intrigued to find out what she’s like.’

‘I’m annoyed because she said she’d be here for Mamoon’s supper.’

‘Is she always elusive?’

‘Her whole life’s a no-show.’

‘I hate to say it, but you remind me of the Tarot Magician. You’ve got a lot of spiritual power. You deserve better.’ Liana said, ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’m from a puritanical, Catholic background. In my day we were punished for doubting God. I kept away from chemical experimentation. But I have read about it in modern novels. Have you ever tried cocaine — or whatever it’s called — ecstasy? Do you have any?’

‘MDMA? It’s not good for you.’

‘Then why, according to the papers, do millions of people take it?’

‘It’s enjoyable in the short term.’

‘That’s what I want,’ she breathed, ‘enjoyment in the short term. I’m beginning to feel like an old woman. My knees ache. And so does my heart.’

‘My father always said that illegal drugs are better for you than the legal stuff. How many artists have created while drunk, high on laudanum, opium, chloral or amphetamines? What have antidepressants ever done for culture?’

‘Good. If you don’t get me some of the good stuff to try, I’ll go to that nasty pub in town you have taken to drinking in.’ She touched his knee. ‘Just a little, please Harry.’ He told her she’d have to promise to be nice to him. ‘You must ask Mamoon to give his blessing for me to interview Marion. Okay?’

‘But he’s very wary of her. She was full of hate and promised a terrible revenge.’

‘What sort?’

‘We’re waiting for it to arrive. All he did was fall deeply in love with me. He won’t have her sniping at him. Don’t take the risk: if you mention her he could smash you in two.’

‘I’ve got to take that risk.’

At the house, it was a familiar difficulty for Harry getting Mamoon out of the car, into the kitchen, upstairs and onto his bed.

Liana had gone ahead of them and, in the bedroom, she turned off the lights and lit candles. Then she collapsed into her favourite yellow armchair, decorated with exotic birds, let her hair down and removed her shoes.

‘You should know,’ she said, when he forced and stumbled Mamoon through the impasse of the door and onto the bed, ‘that the arch of the foot in this shoe is the shape a woman’s foot makes in orgasm.’ She reached into her bra, took out her crystal and caressed it impatiently. ‘Wake him up.’

Harry said softly, ‘Mamoon. . Mamoon. .’

There was no response. She said, ‘You’re the Muscle Mary — slap him. He’ll thank you later. We both will.’

Harry tapped Mamoon on the cheek. ‘Come on, old fella.’

She told him to do it harder. ‘Start his engine. Splash him with water.’

Harry gave the old man a light backhander and tipped a little water over his forehead. Mamoon raised his head, opened his eyes and stared straight at Harry for a moment. Then he fell back, and closed his eyes.

Liana snorted and gestured at Mamoon’s silk pyjamas. ‘The bastard’s gone for the night. We’ll have to make our own fun. At least try and get him into those.’

‘Why am I doing this, Liana?’

‘You wanted to know him, and aren’t I dead on my feet! Don’t you think my ankles are looking puffy?’ She said, ‘To be serious for a moment, you’ve given me hope. Do you really think I can win Mamoon back in the way we’ve discussed?’

After several outraged snorts and gasps, Mamoon had returned to a deep sleep even as Harry embarked on the considerable process of getting the old man out of his trousers and into the pyjamas. Meanwhile, Harry glanced towards the window. Outside all was dark; thin rain fell. Harry went to the window: he believed he’d seen the light from a mobile phone in the distance.

He said to Liana, ‘You’ll have to be determined and use all your tricks of seduction.’

She was caressing the arm of the chair with the crystal. ‘You’re right. I’ve been too inactive.’ Elaborately, she crossed her legs. ‘I see you looking at me. He used to look at me. He loved my legs, though I think he was a bit surprised, on that wonderful day in Venice, that he had to marry the rest of me too. Harry—’

‘Yes?’

‘You’ve been very inspiring tonight. . Are you going to go where you go at night? Suppose I become frightened? What if I must cry?’

‘Don’t cry.’ At last Mamoon was done. Harry went to the door and saluted her. He thanked her for the evening and told her to sleep well. He retired to his room and locked the door. A few minutes later she came and tried it, crying out, ‘Don’t reject me like everyone else!’

He didn’t believe her heart was in it, and she soon gave up. He went to the window, climbed out and jumped down.

Julia was waiting for him in the yard, holding her raincoat over her head in the midnight rain.