Mood Indigo (15 page)

They went out of the bedroom and into the hall. Chloe stopped by the window.

‘What's happened here? It's not as bright as it used to be …'

‘Of course it is,' said Colin. ‘It's full of sunshine!'

‘It isn't,' said Chloe. ‘I can remember clearly that the sun used to come up to that pattern on the carpet, and now it only goes as far as this …!'

‘It depends on the time of day,' said Colin.

‘No, it doesn't depend on the time of day, because it was exactly at the same time as it is now! …'

‘Then we'll take another look tomorrow at the same time,' said Colin.

‘No, look now. It used to come up to the seventh repeat of the pattern. And now it's only on the fifth …'

‘Come along,' said Colin. ‘We're late.'

Chloe smiled at herself as she went past the big mirror in the tiled corridor. Her trouble couldn't be serious, and from now on they would go out for lots of walks together. He would get his doublezoons straightened out and find that he had enough left for them to lead a very pleasant life. Perhaps he might even go out to work …

The lock gave a steely click and the door closed behind them. Chloe held on to his arm. She was taking light little steps. Colin took one for every two of hers.

‘I'm happy,' said Chloe. ‘The sun is shining and the trees smell good!'

‘Of course!' said Colin. ‘Spring is here!'

‘Is it?' said Chloe, giving him a wicked wink.

They turned to the right. There were two buildings to go past before reaching the medical district. A hundred yards farther on they could begin to smell the anaesthetics. On windy days the smell came even closer. The pavements were different here. They were wide flat canals, covered over with concrete grilles and narrowly spaced bars. Under the bars ran streams of antiseptic and ether, dragging drifting swabs of cotton-wool stained with damp and pus – and occasionally with blood – along with them. Long filaments of semi-coagulated blood tinged the volatile flux here and there, and shreds of half-rotten flesh twisted over
themselves and slowly rolled away like melting icebergs that had grown too soft. The atmosphere was full of the smell of ether. Strips of gauze and dressings were swept along by the current too, loosely unwinding their sleepy spirals. At the side of every house a chute came straight down into the canal. Each doctor's speciality could be told by carefully watching the orifice at the bottoms of these tubes for a few moments. A rolling eye tumbled down one of them, looked at them for a minute or two, and then disappeared under a large sheet of spongy red cotton-wool like a dying jellyfish.

‘I don't like this,' said Chloe. ‘The air may be very healthy, but it isn't very easy on the eye …'

‘No,' said Colin.

‘Let's walk in the middle of the road.'

‘Fine,' said Colin. ‘But we'll get run over.'

‘I was wrong to say no to the car,' said Chloe. ‘I've got no legs left.'

‘You're lucky he doesn't live in the middle of the big surgical centre …'

‘Be quiet!' said Chloe. ‘Are we nearly there?'

She suddenly started coughing again and Colin turned pale.

‘Please don't cough, Chloe! …' he begged. ‘I'm trying, Colin …' she said, restraining herself with tremendous difficulty.

‘Don't cough … We're there … Here it is.'

Professor Gnawknuckle's sign was an immense jaw swallowing a fist so voraciously that only the elbow was left sticking out. It amused Chloe. She laughed very quietly, very low, because she was scared to cough any more. All round the walls were illuminated coloured photos of the
miraculous cures performed by the professor, although the lights weren't working at that moment.

‘Look,' said Colin. ‘He's a big specialist. The other houses haven't got such fancy decorations.'

‘It only proves that he's got lots of money,' said Chloe.

‘Or lots of taste …' said Colin. ‘It's very artistic.'

‘Yes,' said Chloe. ‘Just like a high-class butcher's.'

They went in and found they were in a large round vestibule all gleaming white. A nurse came up.

‘Do you have an appointment?' she asked.

‘Yes,' said Colin. ‘We may be a little late …'

‘It doesn't matter,' said the nurse haughtily. ‘The professor has finished operating for today. Would you follow me, please?'

They did, and the sharp high sound of their footsteps echoed on the polished floor. There was a set of doors in the circular wall, and the nurse led them to the one which had a miniature copy of the giant swinging sign outside stuck on it in embossed gold. She opened the door and stood back to let them in. They pushed a massive transparent inner door and found themselves in the professor's surgery. He was standing in front of the window, shampooing his beard with a toothbrush dipped in extract of opoponax.

He turned round when he heard them and went up to Chloe, holding out his hand.

‘Well, now, how do you feel today?'

‘Those pills were terrible,' said Chloe.

The professor's face darkened and he looked like an octoroon.

‘That's annoying …' he murmured. ‘I was afraid that might happen.'

He stood still for a moment, almost in a trance, then realized he was still holding his toothbrush.

‘Hold this,' he said to Colin, shoving it into his hand. ‘Sit down, dear,' he said to Chloe.

He walked right the way round his room and then sat down himself.

‘Now look,' he said to her, ‘you've got something on your lung. Or something
in
your lung, to be more precise. I hoped that it would be …'

He stopped and suddenly sprang up.

‘Talking about it won't do any good,' he said. ‘Come with me. Put that brush down anywhere you like,' he added for Colin's benefit, who really had no idea what to do with it.

Colin wanted to go with Chloe and the professor, but he would have had to sweep aside a kind of heavy but invisible veil which came down between them. His heart struck up an offbeat and strangely anguished rhythm. He used all his might to resist this and, clenching his fists, got hold of himself again. Collecting all his strength together, he managed to take a few steps forward and then, just as he touched Chloe's hand, it disappeared.

She gave her hand to the professor and he led her into a little white room with a chromium ceiling, and the whole of one wall filled by a great shining intricate apparatus.

‘I'd prefer it if you sat down,' said the professor. ‘It won't take long.'

In front of the machine there was a red silver screen framed in crystal, and a single black control button scintillating like a gem at the base.

‘Are you going to wait?' the professor asked Colin.

‘If I may,' said Colin.

The professor switched on. The light fled from the room
in a silver stream which shot away under the door and through a ventilating grille just over the machine. Little by little a different kind of light began to glow on the screen.

Professor Gnawknuckle tapped Colin on the back.

‘Don't worry, my boy,' he said to him. ‘It'll be all right.'

Colin looked down, and looked crushed. Chloe was holding his arm. She was making a tremendous effort to appear gay.

‘Of course,' she said. ‘It won't take long.'

‘Sure,' murmured Colin.

‘At any rate,' added the professor, ‘if she follows my treatment, she'll probably get better.'

‘Probably,' said Colin.

They were in the round white waiting-room and Colin's voice echoed back from the ceiling as if it were coming from a great distance.

‘In any case,' concluded the professor, ‘I'll send you my bill whatever happens.'

‘Of course,' said Colin. ‘Thank you for everything you've done, doctor …'

‘And if she doesn't get better,' said the professor, ‘you must come back and see me again. If all else fails, there's still an operation – we haven't even mentioned that yet …'

‘Of course,' said Chloe, pressing Colin's arm. This time she began to sob.

The professor pulled his little beard with both hands.

‘It's all very worrying,' he said.

They said nothing for several minutes. A nurse could be seen through the transparent door. She knocked twice, very softly. A green light above the door lit up in front of her and said ‘Come In'.

‘There's a gentleman asking me to let your visitors know that Nicholas has arrived.'

‘Thank you, Nurse Scritch,' said the professor. ‘Tell him to wait. They won't be long.' And the nurse went off.

‘Well!' murmured Colin, ‘then we'll say good-bye to you, doctor …'

‘Of course …' said the professor. ‘Good-bye … Look after yourselves. See if you can get away for a few weeks …'

‘Wasn't the verdict favourable?' said Nicholas without looking round as he turned the ignition key.

Chloe was still weeping into the white fur and Colin looked dead. The smell of the pavements rose higher and higher. Fumes of ether filled the street.

‘Hurry,' said Colin.

‘What's wrong with her?' asked Nicholas.

‘Oh, things couldn't be worse!' said Colin.

Realizing what he had said he quickly looked at Chloe. He loved her so much – and at that moment he could have killed himself for what he had just said.

Chloe, shrunk in her corner of the car, bit her knuckles. Her shining hair fell into her face and her high heels crushed her fur hat on the seat. She wept furiously, like a baby, but made no noise.

‘Forgive me, Chloe darling,' said Colin. ‘I'm a brute.'

He shifted up close to her and held her tight. He kissed her poor frightened eyes and felt the muffled beating of her heart inside her chest.

‘You're going to get better,' he said. ‘What I meant to say was that nothing could be worse than seeing you ill, no matter what the illness might be …'

‘I'm scared …' said Chloe. ‘I'm sure he's going to make me have an operation.'

‘Of course not,' said Colin. ‘You'll be cured long before that.'

‘What's wrong with her?' repeated Nicholas. ‘Is there anything I can do?'

He too looked very unhappy. His usual self-confidence had been punctured.

‘My little Chloe,' said Colin, ‘try to calm down.'

‘She's bound to be cured in no time,' said Nicholas.

‘But this water-lily,' said Colin, ‘where could she have caught a thing like that?'

‘Water-lily?' queried Nicholas, incredulously.

‘She's got one in her right lung,' said Colin. ‘At first the professor thought it was only an animal growth. But that's what it is. We saw it on the screen. It's already very large, but it seems we ought to be able to get rid of it.'

‘Of course we will,' said Nicholas.

‘You can't imagine what it's like,' sobbed Chloe. ‘It hurts so much when it moves!'

‘Don't cry,' said Nicholas. ‘It won't do any good and will only tire you out.'

The car went off. Nicholas drove slowly between the complicated houses. The sun disappeared little by little behind the trees and the wind grew cooler.

‘The doctor wants her to go up in the mountains,' said Colin. ‘He thinks the cold weather might kill the infection …'

‘She must have caught it while we were away,' said Nicholas. ‘That journey was full of horrible horrors like that …'

‘He also said that we must keep flowers near her all the time,' added Colin, ‘to frighten the one inside …'

‘Why?' asked Nicholas.

‘Because if it blooms,' said Colin, ‘it will propagate. But if we don't let it bloom …'

‘Is that the only treatment?' asked Nicholas.

‘No …' said Colin.

‘What else is there?'

Colin did not answer straight away. He could feel Chloe crying beside him and he hated the torture he was going to have to inflict on her.

‘She mustn't have anything to drink …' he said.

‘What? …' said Nicholas. ‘Nothing at all?'

‘No,' said Colin.

‘She can't just drink nothing!'

‘Just two spoonfuls a day …' murmured Colin.

‘Two spoonfuls! …' exclaimed Nicholas.

He said nothing more, but stared hard at the road and drove straight ahead.

Alyssum rang twice and waited. She thought that the front door seemed narrower than usual. The carpet seemed thin and grey. Nicholas came to the door.

‘Hallo! …' he said. ‘Have you come to see them?'

‘Yes,' said Alyssum. ‘Are they home?'

‘Chloe's here,' said Nicholas. ‘Come in.'

He closed the door. Alyssum looked at the carpet.

‘It's not as light here as it used to be,' she said. ‘What's happening to everything?'

‘I don't know,' said Nicholas.

‘It's funny,' said Alyssum. ‘Didn't there used to be a picture here?'

‘I can't really remember …' said Nicholas.

He put a thoughtful hand through his hair.

‘As a matter of fact,' he said, ‘you do get the impression that there's a jinx on things here.'

‘Yes,' said Alyssum. ‘You certainly do.'

She was wearing a brown suit, very well cut and had a big bunch of jonquils in her hand.

‘At any rate,' said Nicholas, ‘
you're
blooming. How're things?'

‘Yes, I'm fine,' said Alyssum. ‘Chick bought me a suit. Look …'

‘It suits you,' said Nicholas.

‘I'm lucky,' said Alyssum, ‘that the Marchioness de Mauvoir is the same size as me. It's second-hand. Chick wanted a scrap of paper that was in one of the pockets, so he bought it for me!'