Geoff Nicholson - Street Sleeper

‘Well,’ thinks Hirst, ‘there was a war on, after all. I suppose it must have been good for morale to know that the enemy was driving around in vehicles ‘without any special brilliance’.’

♦

The bedroom was a soft-pornographer’s dream of heaven. The concept resembled a hall of mirrors decked out with purple, black and chrome accessories. The bed was vast and a tangle of silk and fur, and Marilyn’s mother, in order that she might contrast nicely with the rest of the room, was wearing a couple of flaps of white silk.

But Ishmael didn’t get much of a chance to look around the room, and Marilyn’s mother didn’t get much of a chance to look round him, because she reached for the dimmer-switch and the room descended into romantic dusk.

She relaxed on the bed. Ishmael tried to keep his face averted.

‘Make us a couple of drinks,’ she said.

He went to the Chinese sideboard, black and glossy, and took as much time as he could pouring two whiskies. It enabled him to keep his back to the bed.

‘When I saw you loading those heavy televisions into that van, I thought ‘I’ve got to have him’. That’s the kind of woman I am, Gerry. I take what I want, Gerry, and I want you — urgently.’

Ishmael continued taking his time with the drinks.

‘God, you are the strong silent type, aren’t you?’

Ishmael could hear her settling herself on the bed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had tossed her head back into the sea of pillows, and that her eyes were closed in anticipation of some impending ecstasy. He filled her glass to the brim. He took it over to the bed and placed it in her hand. Some of the whisky spilled on to her chest.

With eyes still closed she knocked back half the drink then said, ‘Do it to me, stud. Do it now and do it hard.’

♦

Now it is 1946. It is ‘Post-war’. Why then, Hirst asks himself, does this Humber attitude persist? He has now in his possession a volume called Investigation into the Design and Performance of the Volkswagen or German People’s Car . It reprints the Humber report and compares that modified military vehicle with a side-valve Hillman Minx Mark HI, and also with a post-war Volkswagen which has recently been sent from Wolfsburg to Humber’s experimental department.

For Hirst it is like reading the school report of his first-born. At first the report seems favourable, favourable enough certainly for Sir William Rootes to arrange a visit to Wolfsburg. There are all sorts of options that Sir William might take up. He could have the rights to manufacture the Volkswagen, in Germany, in Britain, modified as he sees fit, on almost any terms he cares to name.

The visit is brief and formal, and at the end of it Sir William announces that he does not want Wolfsburg, does not want the Volkswagen, does not want any part of them, not at any price, not even as a gift, not even if you paid him.

Later the men from Ford will say much the same, and by then Hirst will have stopped being surprised. Morale is as much an issue in peace as it is in war. Of course one doesn’t fight a world war merely to decide at the end of the day that actually the Germans had one or two good ideas.

♦

Ishmael was shocked. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Perhaps he was not quite as liberal as he liked to think. Of course he was all for Marilyn’s mother being who and what she wanted to be. However, it still came as a bit of a stunner to be mistaken for a bit of rough by one’s prospective mother-in-law.

He did think, briefly, about doing it now and doing it hard, if for no other reason than it would keep her quiet and that she might fall asleep afterwards, but he decided against it. He’d had a rough couple of days. He was nervous as a kitten just being in the house, never mind her bedroom, so he doubted that he would be anybody’s idea of a stud. Also, he wasn’t Gerry. Also, although he knew that love and hate are often like two ponies in the same harness, he didn’t find it especially easy to have any sexual feelings for a woman who had already beaten him up twice. Also, he wondered whether it might technically be a form of incest.

Fortunately alcohol came to the rescue. Marilyn’s mother finished her drink. He gave her his own drink and that went rapidly in the same direction.

‘Come down here, damn you,’ she said. ‘I want to get a good look at you.’

She yanked him by the shoulders and he fell clumsily across the purple sheets. She gave him an uncoordinated, but deeply-felt French kiss. Ishmael felt safe enough kissing. While he was involved in that activity his face would be too close for Marilyn’s mother to focus on.

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ she moaned when they broke for breath. ‘That’s very nice.’

Then she pulled away. She held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes.

‘You’re not Gerry at all,’ she said. ‘You’re…’

And then she passed out.

It was time Ishmael had a piece of luck.

♦

Hirst realizes, and is frequently reminded, that technology is no more apolitical than art or military science. And if we find it hard enough to hate the sin but love the sinner, how can we hate the sinner yet still want to develop one of his pet projects?

One way is to assert that the Volkswagen was the product of Ferdinand Porsche, rather than of Adolf Hitler. Dr Porsche has just been made sharply aware that engineering is not an abstract or neutral activity. If, before the war, he was unaware of Hitler’s use of motorsport as propaganda for international Nazism, his sudden incarceration by the French as a war criminal must have removed the scales from his eyes.

The French, of course, do not seriously believe that Dr Porsche is a war criminal in any true sense, in fact they find his activities in the war so atrocious that they try to enlist his help in developing the Renault 4CV.

♦

Ishmael left Marilyn’s mother to her dreams, gently closed her bedroom door and went in search of the staircase to Marilyn’s room. It was not hard to find. It was short, steep and led only to one door. He searched among his keys and found the one that opened the door. He turned it. The door opened. He stepped inside.

‘Marilyn,’ he said, in a loud whisper.

He could make out a pile of clothes on the floor. He could make out the bed, and asleep in the bed, her hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, Marilyn.

He shook her gently and placed a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes opened, registered terror, then recognition, then terror again, then they refused to commit themselves.

‘Oh, Marilyn, it’s been so long.’

‘My God, what are you doing here?’

‘I’m your knight in shining armour. I’ve come to rescue you.’

‘That’s very nice, but…’

‘You don’t need to say anything. Words are useless at times like this. It’s all right, I know what’s been happening. How could they lock you up? How patriarchal can they get?’

‘I’m sure Daddy thinks he has my best interests at heart.’

‘Do you?’

‘Well, usually.’

Marilyn turned on her bedside lamp. Ishmael could see she was naked in bed. It had never been like this with Debby.

‘How did you get in?’ Marilyn demanded. ‘How did you even know where I lived? How did you unlock my door? How are you ever going to get away with this?’

‘There’s a fast car waiting. I have friends ready to take you away from all this.’

‘Whereto?’

‘There’s a railway arch I suppose we could stay in.’

Marilyn wasn’t impressed.

‘Or, or, I’ve met some people on a commune.’

‘Now I’ve always wanted to stay on a commune. It could really help me with my novel. You haven’t asked me how my novel’s going.’