‘They’ve given you a sextant and a compass,’ said Fallok, ‘and there’s no better navigator than you, Captain.’ How can I suspend my disbelief? I thought. He has such confidence in me as HMS Body sails away and leaves me in command of this overloaded vessel that must face seas too big for it. Smaller and smaller in the distance grows the ship that is no longer mine. And down, down, down goes Justine in the fathomless deep, flickering on the screen of the ocean mind, riding, riding, riding to the blackness and the stillness below the flickering.
I came all the way awake and went to where I’d stood to talk to Grace. ‘Irv?’ she shouted.
‘I’m here,’ I shouted back.
‘I woke up,’ she said.
‘Yes, Grace?’
‘I’m an alone kind of person, really …’ she said.
‘Me too,’ I said.
‘I was wondering …’ she said.
‘Wondering what?’
‘Nothing, really.’
‘Tell me, Grace, go on.’
‘You tell me what you think I was wondering, OK?’
‘OK. You were wondering about me?’
‘Yes. Don’t stop.’
‘Wondering how I feel about you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Grace, when I think about you and me I remind myself that I’m eighty-three years old and I haven’t got a whole lot of future in front of me.’
‘Maybe whatever there is is enough, Irv, if …’
‘If there’s love?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you waiting for me to say something?’
‘I think so.’
‘Fnerg,’ said Inner Irv.
‘I didn’t catch that,’ said Grace.
‘Come on, Grace — I’m too old for this kind of thing.’
‘The question you have to ask yourself,’ she said, ‘is, “Do I feel dead?”’
‘Well, no.’
‘Prove it.’
‘Grace,’ I shouted, ‘I love you, OK?’
‘I love you too, Irv. Well, goodnight then.’
‘Goodnight, Grace.’ We both (she told me later) kissed the air in front of us and went back to sleep.
36 Chauncey Lim
2 February 2004. I knew I’d have to start catching up with my business and I thought I might as well begin on this quiet Monday. I made myself a sandwich lunch, then on my way out I went into the restaurant where Justine was eating latkes Liu Hai.
‘Enjoying your lunch?’ I said.
For a moment she seemed not to recognise me. ‘Sure,’ she said.‘I’m home on the Jewish-Chinese range.’
‘I’m off to my place to see what needs doing,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘See you,’ she said.
As I was leaving I saw Charles, the black man who works at the restaurant. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘there’ve been a lot of dead rats lately.’
‘Why tell me about it?’ I said.
‘Just sharing the local news,’ he said. ‘They’ve all had their heads bitten off. And no blood in them.’
‘Thanks for sharing,’ I said. ‘Mind how you go.’
‘You too,’ he said.
It’s a long slow trip from Golders Green back to town. Some of the people on the train seemed to be staring at me and I tried not to notice but found myself wondering if I’d become someone to be stared at; I knew that I was no longer the Chauncey I used to be before I took up with Justine. My disgust had become depression and my thoughts were dreary. Some things that can be done are better left undone, and Justine was one of them.
I got off at Tottenham Court Road and walked to D’Arblay Street. There were not many people about in that part of Soho and the streets were full of emptiness. When I got to Chauncey Lim, Photographic Novelties, the place seemed small and from another time, as if I’d come back to the house of my childhood. There were a couple of notes stuck to the door and inside there were some letters on the floor. From Everything for the Office in Bangkok there was an invoice for a gross of Whoopee Spinners, and from Educational Products in Akron, Ohio, a cheque for a gross of After-School Pencil Peepshows. The others were from people who wanted to know what had happened to their orders. The place smelled stale, my photographic novelties were rubbish, and the acupuncture chart and Aunt Zophrania’s calendar on the wall looked stupid.
I wrote a cheque for Everything for the Office, locked up, posted the cheque to Bangkok, and went on to Berwick Street and All That Glisters. Grace was alone, drinking vodka and looking terrible. ‘What’s the matter?’ I said.
‘Haven’t you heard about Istvan?’ she said.
‘No. What happened?’
‘He’s dead.’
It wasn’t as if we’d ever been that close, but Fallok’s death knocked me sideways. I sat down suddenly and Grace gave me all the details while I listened and shook my head in disbelief. ‘It was J Two that finished him,’ she said. ‘I told Inspector Hunter but he wouldn’t believe me.’
‘Two Justines!’ I said. ‘Whose idea was that?’
‘Mine,’ she said. ‘Irv and I did it together with Irv’s nephew Artie. Artie did most of the work, actually.’
‘Where’s J Two now?’
‘Nobody knows.’
‘And Irv?’
‘He’s in hospital.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘He came down with double bronchial pneumonia after we spent a night in the nick.’
‘You were locked up?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What for?’
‘As I said, Hunter wouldn’t believe us when we told him about J Two and he got pissed off so he nicked us.’
‘Of course he wouldn’t believe it, Grace. I shouldn’t have gone up to Golders Green. What you needed around here was a voice of reason.’
‘Whatever. I can’t get over it that Istvan’s dead because of me.’
‘“If you can’t get over it you must get over it anyway.” Wise words from a famous teacher, Grace.’
‘Confucius?’
‘No, Rabbi Yisakhar Baer of Radoshitz.’
‘Those famous rabbis could sit around being wise because their wives did all the work. Wisdom is foolishness and foolishness is wisdom in my book. What are your plans now?’
‘I’m waiting for word from Elijah.’
‘The prophet Elijah?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘How’s he going to contact you?’
‘In a dream, I expect. That’s how he did it last time.’
‘Lucky you. When you see him, maybe you could tell him I’d be grateful for advice if he’s in the neighbourhood.’
‘OK. What’re you going to do now?’
‘Finish this bottle. Would you like to help me?’
‘Yes, thanks. That’s the best offer I’ve had today.’ So we sat there drinking and shaking our heads. Grace put on some music to help us along: Johnny Cash, The Man in Black. She started the CD on ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’. We were well into Monday afternoon but that was the right song for the occasion.
By now I was feeling that wherever I was, I should be somewhere else. Trouble seemed to be waiting for me round every corner but if I didn’t go back to Golders Green I was afraid Golders Green would come looking for me. So I went. While I was standing on the platform at Tottenham Court Road I saw a rat down among the cables by the tracks. It was looking up at the platform, and when it saw me it seemed to take fright and scurried back the way it had come.
The train was half empty; stations came and went as it plodded northward and it emerged aboveground as the sun was setting in the full dreariness of Monday evening. When I got to Elijah’s Lucky Dragon I went right up to the flat. Justine was nowhere to be seen. Elijah greeted me with ‘How’re they hangin’, Chaunce?’