Corduroy Mansions

4. A Generous Offer

‘Half the time,’ said Dee, ‘I can’t follow what he’s going on about. It was Watergate this morning. Watergate and some guy called Nixon.’

‘Old people wander a bit,’ said Martin, her colleague at the Pimlico Vitamin and Supplement Agency. ‘I had an uncle - or something - who lost all his nouns. He had a stroke and all the nouns went. So he used the word “concept” for any noun. He’d say things like “Pass the concept” when he wanted you to pass the salt.’

Dee frowned. William was not all that old. But there was no need to correct Martin on that; the interesting thing was the salt issue. ‘He ate a lot of salt?’

‘I think so.’

‘Well, there you are,’ said Dee. ‘Sodium blockages. You know I’ll never forget when I went for iridology the first time and the iridologist looked into my eyes and said, “You eat a lot of salt.” And it was true. I really freaked out.’

Martin looked concerned. ‘How do they tell?’

‘Sodium rings in the eyes,’ said Dee. ‘It’s pretty obvious.’

Martin was silent. Then, after a few moments, ‘Could you tell? Yourself, I mean. Would you be able to tell if you looked into my eyes?’

Dee smiled. ‘Maybe. Do you want me to?’

It took Martin a minute or so to decide. Then he said, ‘Yes. It’s better to know, isn’t it?’

‘Of course you must know anyway,’ said Dee. ‘You must know whether you eat too much salt. Do you?’

Martin looked away. ‘Maybe sometimes.’

‘All right.’

There were no customers in the Vitamin and Supplement Agency at the time and Dee pointed to a chair in front of the counter. ‘Sit down, Martin. No, don’t close your eyes. I’m going to have to shine a light into them. Just relax.’

There was a small torch beside the cash register. They used it from time to time to look into the mouths of customers who wanted something for mouth ulcers or gingivitis. Dee reached for this torch and crouched in front of Martin. She rested a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His shoulder felt bony; Martin did not eat enough, she thought, but that was something they could deal with later. For now it was sodium rings.

The torch threw a small circle of weak light onto his cheek. She moved it up closely until it was shining directly into his right eye.

She felt Martin’s breathing upon her hand, a warm, rather comforting feeling. Then it stopped; he was holding his breath.

‘See anything?’ he asked.

‘Hold on. I’m just trying to see. Yes . . . Yes.’

‘Yes what? Are there any sodium rings?’

‘Yes. I think so. There are some white circles. I think those are sodium rings all right.’

She turned the torch off and stood back. Martin stared at her balefully.

‘What can I do?’

‘Eat less salt for starters.’

‘And?’

‘And the sodium rings should disappear.’ She paused. ‘But there were other things there.’

He looked at her in alarm. ‘Such as?’

‘Flecks. And quite a few yellow dots. I don’t know what those mean. I suppose we could look them up.’

They were interrupted by the arrival of the first customer of the morning. He wanted St John’s Wort and a bottle of Echinacea. Dee served him while Martin tidied the counter. Afterwards, when the customer had gone, Martin turned to her. His anxiety was evident.

‘Should I cut out salt altogether?’

She shrugged. ‘We need a certain amount of salt. If you cut out salt altogether you’d die. So maybe just a bit less.’

He nodded. There was a mirror in the washroom and he would have a quick look at his eyes in that. If he could see the sodium rings himself, then he could monitor his progress in getting rid of them.

‘It’s not the end of the world,’ said Dee reassuringly. ‘People live with sodium rings for a long time.’

‘And then they die?’

‘Maybe. But you’re not going to die, Martin. Not just yet. As long as you take sensible precautions.’

Martin looked thoughtful. ‘Supplements?’

Dee shook her head. She knew that Martin was already on a number of supplements - they all were - and probably needed nothing else. No, the yellow flecks she thought she had seen in his irises pointed to colon issues.

‘I think that you need colonic irrigation,’ she said. ‘Those yellow flecks I saw are probably related to the colon.’

Martin said nothing.

‘Colonic irrigation is the answer,’ Dee pronounced. ‘We all need it, but very few people take it up.’

Martin swallowed. ‘You have to . . .’

‘Yes,’ said Dee. ‘It’s not a very savoury subject, but it’s no use running away from it. The transit time for food through the system should ideally be less than twenty-four hours. The average time for British men - of which you, Martin, are an example - is over sixty hours. Sixty hours!’

Martin swallowed again. ‘And it involves . . .’

‘Yes,’ said Dee. ‘It does. But we don’t need to go into that. One doesn’t have to look.’

She stared at Martin. She liked this young man. There was something innocent about him; something fresh. And yet when she had looked into his irises . . .

She smiled at him. ‘Don’t be too concerned. It’s not as bad as you think it is. I’ve had colonic irrigation. I went to Thailand and had a special course of it on Ko Samui. But you don’t have to go that far.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No. Not at all.’ She reached out and patted him on the shoulder. ‘How old are you again, Martin?’

‘Nineteen. Twenty next month.’

‘Twenty years of impurity,’ mused Dee. ‘Look, why don’t you let me do it for you? It’s not difficult, you know.’

Martin looked down at the floor. He was not sure what to say. It was such a generous offer.