Something to Tell You (31 page)

As I hurried home—thinking of myself bent forward, like a fleeing question mark—a section from Dante’s
Purgatory
came to me: “Accurst be thou, / Inveterate wolf! whose gorge ingluts more prey, / Than every beast beside, yet is not fill’d; / So bottomless thy maw.”

I rang Ajita and arranged to see her. She was the person I wanted to see, the person I felt least anxious with at the moment. Then I thought how much I admired Bushy’s curiosity about his inner world, and the fact that he realised the benefit of becoming acquainted with it, recognising, too, that he couldn’t do this alone.

I’d been considering Ralph Waldo Emerson and his essay “Circles,” the first words of which are: “The eye is the first circle.” For the next few days I could look at a door and imagine an eye at the keyhole—an eye followed by a head, by a body, a man. A man who had come to hunt me down, arrest me, condemn me. For what? For being a criminal; for committing the most monstrous crime of all. Things are always what they seem.

I suspected Wolf was watching me, but he didn’t come to the flat. Perhaps he was only my dream. Echoes of echoes, and nothing known for sure.

Yet if I felt paranoid, it wasn’t without reason. Murdering someone is no way to get rid of them. Speaking from experience for once, I’d say it’s a guarantee of their repeated return. At the same time, I was hoping that Wolf had decided that persecuting me was a futile idea and had gone away. Not that I really believed or expected this. Our own wishes are no guide to reality. As far as I could work out, he had come to London only to find me and to remind me, over and over, of my crime.

At lunchtime a few days later the door bell rang, and I knew I hadn’t succeeded in keeping the Wolf from the door.

I asked, as he came in, “By the way, how did you find me?”

“I’d been thrown out of my home. My clothes, my collection of antique swords, everything was gone. During the day, in the library where I’d keep warm, I saw a book by you, in German. It was a sign you were asking to see me. It wasn’t difficult to get an address. Don’t forget my father was a cop. Now, I’m dirty.”

“Sorry?”

“Please, will you let me wash here?” He was unshaven and dishevelled. “You cannot refuse a man a little water.”

He wanted me to cook him scrambled eggs while he took a shower and freshened up. At this point he was only asking for things it would be difficult to refuse. He was trying to make his way further into my life, and I was getting used to him again.

However, when he’d washed and eaten, I told him, in my firmest voice, that financially I was on the run and always had been—every month I was one step ahead of what I owed. I had given Josephine my stake in the house, but she constantly requested more money. These days reparation for the crime of leaving your lover was limitless. Money had become the substitute for love. On top of that I had to pay for Rafi’s education for another ten years. Henry blamed Thatcher; I blamed Blair for being unable to provide good state schools for the over-eleven.

I said, “No one becomes an analyst for the money. There are scores of therapies and not enough sick people, if you can believe it. In London you fall over wealthy people everywhere, most of them without much natural intelligence or talent. It makes me crazy that I didn’t think about my financial situation as a younger man, instead of walking around depressed and arguing with myself.”

“What you say makes me unhappy. Couldn’t we do something?”

“It’s too late.”

“Yes, why would you bother when you’re all set? I am not. You know why.”

Everything bad which had happened to him since the night in the garage was my fault. If he hadn’t volunteered—out of sincere goodness—to help a mate whose girlfriend was being mistreated, he wouldn’t be in this position now: a man who had been persuaded into a murder that had stained his entire life.

He said, “I had a drink with Ajita. Lovely house she’s got there.”

“You went in?” He didn’t reply. I said, “How did you find her?”

He enjoyed watching me consider the question.

“I followed you,” he said.

The day before, she and I had met for lunch in a Moroccan place in South Kensington that I liked. Ajita was wearing a white trouser-suit and looked, in the modern style, more or less ageless. She was carrying numerous shopping bags, as well as books on psychology and Freud she’d picked up at Blackwell’s. She was eager to learn about my work and how I became involved in it. “That whole chunk of your life, truly I know nothing of,” she said.

It wasn’t transference, the unconscious or the Other that Ajita wanted to hear about. It was the guy who loved to shit himself in public, and wanted to do it more; the woman who stuck needles in her breasts and thighs until she bled, and orgasmed, and the man who covered his penis with insects and said he wanted literally to fuck my brain.

“But I’m normal, compared to this. Why am I so dull! I feel free in this city,” she went on. “I want to stay here. America’s at war. It’s horrible for people like us. I’d forgotten how wickedly realistic Londoners are.”

She wanted us to spend the afternoon together, but I had patients to see. Then she asked me to go away with her for a few days. “We can shop, sleep, talk, walk.” I had wondered whether, if she was in the mood for passion, it was a good idea. But now I was warming to the notion. I had good reason to want to get out of London, and perhaps in Venice, Ajita and I might go further with each other. I had always been a cautious and nervous fellow; maybe it was time I changed.

What I didn’t know was that Wolf had trailed me, and followed her home. How stupid of me not to have been more alert. When it came to crime, despite my efforts, I’d always be an amateur; clearly, transgression was a calling that not anyone could assume.

I told him, “She hasn’t got any money. It’s her brother’s. He collects houses. He’s got them all over the place.”

“He has? Where exactly?”

“I don’t know. Wolf, he’s tough like his father, and more powerful and brutal.”

“Thanks. I’ll be careful.” He said, “Ajita took me to a bar and ordered champagne. We drank two bottles, and ate oysters. Then we had smoked salmon and toast. She gave me a little something to help me settle into a lovely warm hotel, not far from her. I walked her back home. I didn’t go in, though she asked me. I’m not one to impose.”

“No.”

“What makes you think I’m interested in her money? It’s worse. I like her.”

“You told her your story—the time in jail?”

“It’s all I have. I can tell she’s been unhappy for a long time. Now she’s looking for something.”

He went on, “Oh, Jamal, she is still good-natured, kind and beautiful. I said to her, you are without doubt one of those women who will become more beautiful and attractive as you get older, with a sophistication younger women can only envy.” I recalled this as a recommended leg-opener of his, for use on any woman over forty. Its time had surely arrived. “Jamal, you made us knock out her father and then you let her go. Why didn’t you marry her?”

“She went away, like you and Valentin. The gang was broken up. I didn’t see her again until recently.”

“You lied to me about that, too.”

“It was private.”

“Maybe. But didn’t she want you?”

“She did, very much. She said she still liked me.”

“And you turned such a girl away?”

“I haven’t said that. We get on well.”

“Is that all?”

I continued, “From my point of view, when I met you, you were already a criminal, Wolf. I was a kid whose father had left. I was easily impressed by tough guys.”

“You call me a criminal!” he shouted. “I was never a murderer till I met you! Let the judge decide which of us was the ringleader—the one who gathered us together to commit the dirty work!”

“The judge? You’ll go down too, you know.”

He shook his head and drew his finger across his throat. “Valentin and I would be playing together in the great casino in the sky. I’ve got nothing to lose. You’ve got everything. Your wife, son, friends—everyone will be devastated by what you did. You will never escape the shame.” He then said suddenly, “Is life worth living? Is it worth the trouble, the suffering?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Listen, Wolfgang. We were good friends. We could still be friends. But you’ve got to drop the bullshit threats, okay?” He smiled. I carried on. “It’s important that Ajita doesn’t hear about what happened to her father. I’m going to be upset, I may even get into trouble. But she will be more than devastated, particularly if it comes from you. She might want to hurt herself.”

“I can’t worry about all of you when no one’s worrying about me.”

“Why don’t you go back to Berlin?”

“There’s nothing there for me!”

“Your knees are bouncing. In a fury?”

He said, “They’d taken Ulrike away to one of their houses, and then they came for me, three in the morning. Minutes later I was on the street with only the clothes I could carry. I’d considered barricading myself in and shooting at them. They were ahead of me in everything. So you see, Jamal, friend, I need a little help. I want to stay in London. I don’t care if I have to sleep on the street. I’ve done it before.”

“I will try to stop that happening to you,” I said.

“How?”

I told him again I couldn’t give him any money and that if he stopped frightening me I’d be in a better position to think about how to help him. Meanwhile, even as he had been following me, I had been trying to find him work.

Bushy had asked the Harridan to let Wolf work behind the bar at the Cross Keys. Wolf could sleep in the room upstairs where the strippers changed, the one he and the Harridan used for their lovemaking; Wolf would, no doubt, be face down in the same fuck-stained sheets. At night there was no one there, and as local boys were always trying to break into the pub, he could keep an eye on it. If he was lucky he’d get to hurt someone, and with moral impunity, always the nicest way.

“What do you think of the job?” I waited while he wondered about it. He didn’t seem delighted. “Wolf, you know how to take your chances. I’ve got to go away for a few days, and you can’t stay here. Give it a try.”

“Sleeping in a bar—is that my worth?”

“Pretty much. There are many friendly girls and dozens of scams going down. Tonight you’ll be in a better position than last night. You should leave Ajita alone.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Who said I was going to see her again? She and I said a lot to each other. She needed to talk, she couldn’t stop. I think I was her therapy, but there’s nothing else going on, don’t worry.” He gave me his mobile number. “When do I start?”

I was pleased to see I’d startled him when I said “Right away.” I drew him a map, led him gently to the door and celebrated when I shut it behind him.

That evening I went to Miriam’s for a drink. Bushy was out front, cleaning the car. “It’s working,” he said. “Relieved?”

Wolf had successfully arrived at the Cross Keys; the Harridan had already pinched his arse and evaluated his muscles. I said I couldn’t help wondering whether it was wretched for Wolf to work in such a place. Were we humiliating him? Would it make him more pissed off? On the other hand, the Wolf I remembered was interested in most people. He’d like the girls; he’d soon be sleeping with one of them and helping the others.

It had been Bushy’s idea. He must have been hoping that the Harridan, being keen on men, would fancy Wolf, thus releasing Bushy, who’d be able to trade at the Cross Keys without harassment from her. At the same time, Bushy would be able to “have a look” at Wolf, sussing out how bad and desperate he might turn out to be.

“Good,” I said. “Let’s park Wolf there for a while and see what happens. He might settle down. Thanks, Bushy, for sorting this out for me. I appreciate it. Do you have any more dreams? It’s a fair exchange, I think.”

“Bushy don’t want that,” he said, looking around as though to ensure we weren’t being observed. “Bushy want something else now.”

“What is it?”

“I bin getting itchy fingers. I’m going to play again,” he said. “I got to do it sober, like I got to do everything sober now, otherwise Miriam will cut me off, she already threatened. I had a group, a few years ago, but we fighted onstage. One night they all walk off and only me left there. Since then I done just the one gig. What I want…”

“Yes?”

“Will you come with me? I get nervous, I sweat buckets, my nose starts to run. And you know what it means if that happens.”

“What?”

“With diarrhoea comin’ out me nose? I’ll ’ave to get outta there. I’ll be so embarrassed I could hurt myself. But if you’re there, doctor in the house, I’ll be good.”

If he’d been my patient, I’d have said no, it was something he had to get through himself. Since he wasn’t, I could go and see him play guitar, while drinking and talking with Henry and Miriam.

“Sure,” I said.

“Now you’ve agreed, I’ll arrange it for definite—at the Caramel Sootie.”

“The Kama Sutra?”

“They know me there personally. I never have to give my name: I helped them with their heating. You can imagine, they were grateful.”

“Can’t it be a more ordinary venue? Why not the Cross Keys?”

“It’s dark, innit, at the Sootie? They’re screwing. They won’t be interested in me.”

“Or your nose.”

“That’s it. An’ what’s that Woody Allen joke Henry told me? If sex between two people is great, sex between five people is even better!”

“But what could be worse,” I replied, “than to feel desire and have it satisfied immediately?”

“Shrinky, don’t be alarmed up. It ain’t compulsive to screw if you don’t wanna. Meself, I wouldn’t touch some of them people with asbestos gloves on. But Henry and Miriam rate it better than sex. There’s this twenty-stone guy who lies there, and birds dressed as schoolgirls—”

“They’ve told me about the Sootie, thanks.”

“You’ll do it?”

“I’ll have to ask Henry and Miriam.”

“Let me embrace you, man.”

He held on to me before saying, “You knows you’ll ’ave to look right, dress up an’ all. The only other way they’ll let you in is bollock naked, and I can tell you, there’s draughts in there which will cut you in two. Henry and Miriam will help you. I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “My comeback and your come-out.”