“I’m sorry, Charlie, but I don’t remember you ever being especially idealistic. In fact, you were always utterly selfish and hedonistic…”
“Okay, maybe we were all decadent slobs back then, the lot of us. But there’s always been this other person, somewhere inside of me, wanting to come out. That’s what drew me to her…”
“Charlie, when was this? When did this happen?”
“When did what happen?”
“This affair.”
“There was no affair! I didn’t have sex with her, nothing. I didn’t even have lunch with her. I just… I just made sure I kept seeing her.”
“What do you mean, kept seeing her?” I’d drifted back into the kitchen by this time and was gazing at my concoction.
“Well, I kept seeing her,” he said. “I kept making appointments to see her.”
“You mean, she’s a call girl.”
“No, no, I told you, we’ve never had sex. No, she’s a dentist. I kept going back, kept making things up about a pain here, discomfort of the gums there. You know, I spun it out. And of course, in the end, Emily guessed.” For a second, Charlie seemed to be choking back a sob. Then the dam burst. “She found out… she found out… because I was flossing so much!” He was now half-shrieking. “She said, you never, ever floss your teeth that much!”
“But that doesn’t make sense. If you look after your teeth more, you’ve less reason to go back to her…”
“Who cares if it makes sense? I just wanted to please her!”
“Look, Charlie, you didn’t go out with her, you didn’t have sex with her, what’s the issue?”
“The issue is, I so wanted someone like that, someone who’d bring out this other me, the one that’s been trapped inside…”
“Charlie, listen to me. Since the last time you called, I’ve pulled myself together considerably. And quite frankly, I think you should pull yourself together too. We can discuss all of this when you get back. But Emily will be here in an hour or so, and I’ve got to have everything ready. I’m on top of things here now, Charlie. I suppose you can tell that from my voice.”
“Fucking fantastic! You’re on top of things. Great! Some fucking friend…”
“Charlie, I think you’re upset because you don’t like your hotel. But you should pull yourself together. Get things in perspective. And take heart. I’m on top of things here. I’ll sort out the dog business, then I’ll play my part up to the hilt for you. Emily, I’ll say. Emily, just look at me, just look how pathetic I am. The truth is, most people are just as pathetic. But Charlie, he’s different. Charlie is in a different league.”
“You can’t say that. That sounds completely unnatural.”
“Of course I won’t put it literally like that, idiot. Look, just leave it to me. I’ve got the whole situation under control. So calm down. Now I’ve got to go.”
I put the phone down and examined the pot. The liquid had now come to the boil and there was a lot of steam about, but as yet no real smell of any sort. I adjusted the flame until everything was bubbling nicely. It was around this point I was overcome by a craving for some fresh air, and since I hadn’t yet investigated their roof terrace, I opened the kitchen door and stepped out.
It was surprisingly balmy for an English evening in early June. Only a little bite in the breeze told me I wasn’t back in Spain. The sky wasn’t fully dark yet, but was already filling with stars. Beyond the wall that marked the end of the terrace, I could see for miles around the windows and back yards of the neighbouring properties. A lot of the windows were lit, and the ones in the distance, if you narrowed your eyes, looked almost like an extension of the stars. This roof terrace wasn’t large, but there was definitely something romantic about it. You could imagine a couple, in the midst of busy city lives, coming out here on a warm evening and strolling around the potted shrubs, in each other’s arms, swapping stories about their day.
I could have stayed out there a lot longer, but I was afraid of losing my momentum. I went back into the kitchen, and walking past the bubbling pot, paused at the threshold of the living room to survey my earlier work. The big mistake, it struck me, lay in my complete failure to consider the task from the perspective of a creature like Hendrix. The key, I now realised, was to immerse myself within Hendrix’s spirit and vision.
Once I’d started on this tack, I saw not only the inadequacy of my previous efforts, but how hopeless most of Charlie’s suggestions had been. Why would an over-lively dog extract a little ox ornament from the midst of hi-fi equipment and smash it? And the idea of cutting open the sofa and throwing around the stuffing was idiotic. Hendrix would need razor teeth to achieve an effect like that. The capsized sugar bowl in the kitchen was fine, but the living room, I realised, would have to be re-conceptualised from scratch.
I went into the room in a crouched posture, so as to see it from something like Hendrix’s eyeline. Immediately, the glossy magazines piled up on the coffee table revealed themselves as an obvious target, and so I pushed them off the surface along a trajectory consistent with a shove from a rampant muzzle. The way the magazines landed on the floor looked satisfyingly authentic. Encouraged, I knelt down, opened one of the magazines and scrunched up a page in a manner, I hoped, would find an echo when eventually Emily came across the diary. But this time the result was disappointing: too obviously the work of a human hand rather than canine teeth. I’d fallen into my earlier error again: I’d not merged sufficiently with Hendrix.
So I got down on all fours, and lowering my head towards the same magazine, sank my teeth into the pages. The taste was perfumy, and not at all unpleasant. I opened a second fallen magazine near its centre and began to repeat the procedure. The ideal technique, I began to gather, was not unlike the one needed in those fairground games where you try to bite apples bobbing in water without using your hands. What worked best was a light, chewing motion, the jaws moving flexibly all the time: this would cause the pages to ruffle up and crease nicely. Too focused a bite, on the other hand, simply “stapled” pages together to no great effect.
I think it was because I’d become so absorbed in these finer points that I didn’t become aware sooner of Emily standing out in the hall, watching me from just beyond the doorway. Once I did realise she was there, my first feeling wasn’t one of panic or embarrassment, but of hurt that she should be standing there like that without having announced her arrival in some way. In fact, when I remembered how I’d gone to the trouble of calling her office only several minutes earlier precisely to pre-empt the sort of situation now engulfing me, I felt the victim of a deliberate deception. Perhaps that was why my first visible response was simply to give a weary sigh without making any attempt to abandon my all-fours posture. My sigh brought Emily into the room, and she laid a hand very gently on my back. I’m not sure if she actually knelt down, but her face seemed close to mine as she said:
“Raymond, I’m back. So let’s just sit down, shall we?”
She was easing me up onto my feet, and I had to resist the urge to shake her off.
“You know, it’s odd,” I said. “No more than a few minutes ago, you were about to go into a meeting.”
“I was, yes. But after your phone call, I realised the priority was to come back.”
“What do you mean, priority? Emily, please, you don’t have to keep holding my arm like that, I’m not about to topple over. What do you mean, a priority to come back?”
“Your phone call. I recognised it for what it was. A cry for help.”