The Melting Man

He sat down in my chair and looked, his face wreathed in a rapturous smile, at the whisky bottle.

I gave up. I could have thrown him out, but it would have been an effort. And against all that bonhomie and cheerfulness any resentment would have been churlish. Churlishness and effort, I decided, could be postponed for ten minutes by which time my pie would be ready.

I tipped some whisky into a glass for him.

'Water or soda, Mr Alakwe?'

'With many thanks, neither.' He took the glass from me, sipped, nodded approval and said, 'A very nice place you have here. My own flat I share with three others. They are most uncongenial types but useful for business contacts. You have any idea how much I am authorized to offer you?' Big smile, another sip of whisky, and a fat hand momentarily adjusting and smoothing down the floral tie. It should have had dahlias and chrysanthemums on it, but it didn't.

I sat in the other armchair and just studied him, in silence. The silence puzzled him.

He said, 'I say, Mr Carver, have you any idea how much I am authorized to offer you?'

'And I say, Mr Alakwe, Esquire, that you'd better begin at the beginning. As a suggestion, in what role are you here? Representation? Specialities? Import and Export or—'

'I am, Mr Carver, representing.'

'Who?'

He sipped again at the glass. 'Damn fine whisky. Would I imagine be a good proprietary brand?' He squinted at the bottle. 'Yes. Very good mark.'

'Who?' I repeated.

'Let us say friends of friends who have friends who have very delicate susceptibilities towards matters which affect their political, industrial, commercial and international reputations, etcetera and etcetera.' He smiled. 'You see I have need to be discreet. So, naturally—'

I lay back in my chair and shut my eyes. "Wake me,' I said, 'when you come to the point.' He laughed.

I opened my eyes.

He winked at me, and said, 'Five hundred pounds?' I shut my eyes.

'Guineas, Mr Carver. That would be—'

'Five hundred and twenty-five pounds.'

'Ah, then you agree? Good. Very sensible, Mr Carver. And if you wish for some advice as to investing such a sum, I have a proposition which would double your money in six months. After that, another proposition that would double that amount in a similar time, and so on ad nauseum. In some years you are a millionaire, thanks to Jimbo Alakwe.'

'Esquire, or Mister?'

I opened my eyes.

He genuinely looked a little crestfallen but it didn't last long, the thick lips spread, the fine teeth shone, the pudgy nose wrinkled and the bright eyes spun in their sockets promisingly as though when they stopped the whole jackpot would come spouting out of his mouth. In a way, it did.

'One thousand. Not pounds, Mr Carver. Guineas. Which is one thousand and fifty pounds.'

I stood up and said, 'The only word you've said so far which makes sense is the word "millionaire". I suggest you take it from there very quickly.' I moved to the door. 'Not. that I want to be rude — especially to a man of your ebullience. But I want my supper. Okay?'

'Okay. Ebullience. Splendid word. Yes, that is me. Okay. These friends of friends, etcetera and etcetera, would like you to relinquish your commission with a certain gentleman. Then you get the money. Okay?'

He stood up, and I had no doubt that he thought that it was going to be as simple and painless as that. Only a fool would turn down one thousand guineas.

I held the door open. 'What was their top limit, Mr Alakwe? Surely more than a thousand?'

He said, 'I think I am smelling a good aroma. Your supper, no doubt? The cheque will be sent.'

I shook my head.

'Don't bother. When I take a job I stay with it.'

He was genuinely concerned for me, surprised, no doubt, at my lack of common sense.

'Please, Mr Carver, for your own sake. This is not a situation which calls for any high-mindedness or lofty idealism. Just work and money, Mr Carver. Perhaps one thousand five hundred pounds.'

'No. And don't make it guineas. Just tell them I'm not interested in their money.'

'Absolutely?'

'Absolutely.'

He came by me, as near stunned as he had ever been, I imagine. In the hall he stopped, eyed me, shook his head and said, brightening a little, 'Yes, now I understand. There can only be one explanation. You are eccentric. Very eccentric'

'Something like that.'

'Well, Mr Carver, all I can say is that it is your privilege to be that. But it is dangerous. These people — you understand, I only act for them — please be polite they say, this man is intelligent, good-mannered and understanding. But these people may now take other action. D for drastic action, Mr Carver.'

'And you would act for them?'

'Well, naturally, if they pay me. One thousand five hundred pounds or guineas — for the first time I meet a sensible chap who says no to it. You know' — hope sprang briefly to life — 'it would be arranged, the payment I mean, so that you would not have to pay tax.'

'Goodnight, Mr Alakwe.'

I opened the door for him and he went reluctantly past me and paused on the doormat, carefully scuffing his shoes on it.

'Tell me,' I said, 'in your dealings with these friends of friends, etcetera and etcetera, did you ever come across a countryman of yours called Joseph Bavana?'

'Bavana? Why of course. He is my husband-in-law.'

'Your what?'

'Well, if that is not right… I mean, he is married to my second wife. Who now, of course, is a widow. So now, of course, maybe, I shall take her back.'

'You know Bavana's dead? How he died?'

'Of course. I tell them not to use that way first of all. Joseph always was accident prone. This Mr Carver, I tell them from reading their first report, is not a man to deal with like that, but Joseph persuaded them.'

'And what are you going to advise them now?'

'I like you, Mr Carver. You are polite and respectable with me. I shall tell them you ask for five thousand pounds. That gives you a few days to think about it. I know them. They will say, "God man, five thousand — for doing nothing? Offer two thousand five hundred, guineas if necessary." Then I come to you. You accept' — his face began to beam — 'and we shall be happy. You should expect me tomorrow. Don't worry, Mr Carver.' He thumped his chest with the handle of his umbrella. 'A willing heart is mine. For a friend I got all the way.' He tipped his bowler and turned away, borne on a euphoric cloud of human kindness.

I went back into the flat to be greeted by the smell of burning from the kitchen.

* * *

Mrs Meld woke me with a thump on the door and a few exuberant lines of Yellow Submarine. I'd noticed recently that she'd slowly been bringing her repertoire up to date.

'Good morning, Mr Carver. How was the pie?'

'Splendid,' I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

'What you need,' she said, 'is a woman to look after you — not that you can't cook as well as any woman, but it's the cooking that does it. Time you've done it, as I tell Meld, it puts you right off. And then things like laundry, you never think about them. You going to stay a bachelor all your life?'

I said, 'Go away. I want two eggs, lightly fried, and some bacon, crisp.'

'Ten minutes, then. And I'll fix a nice steak and kidney for tonight.'

I got out of bed. 'Don't bother. Tonight I shall be in France, eating omble chevalier, straight from the lake. You know what omble is?'

'Well, if it ain't fish, I don't know what it would be doing in a lake. But anyway, that accounts for the spade across the road maybe. He was there when Meld went off at seven. France, is it, and more of your larrikins? You have a nice life, Mr Carver, but you need a good woman to share it with.'