Russell Hoban - Angelica's Grotto

‘Looks that way to me.’

Watching Klein, DeVere was reminded of cop movies in which a guilty man with a foolproof alibi sat in his chair the same way Klein was sitting in his. ‘So,’ he said, ‘how would you assess your present situation?’

Klein thought about that for a while. ‘You’ve seen in amusement arcades a brightly lit glass case full of little prizes, and you have to manoeuvre a pair of claws to pick up what you can?’

‘Yes, I’ve seen those.’

‘Well, I’ve done the best I could with my claws.’

‘What exactly have you picked up?’

‘Little treats, little bits of Melissa-time.’

‘No more than that?’

‘Treats and bits are all I can manage — the whole Melissa is beyond my grasp.’

‘Would you want the whole Melissa?’

‘Actually, I like it the way things are now.’

‘You think that’s the best you can do?’

‘It’s the best I want to do; it feels right.’

‘Why do you think that is?’

‘Let me ask you a question: what do you think your function as a psychologist is?’

‘Helping people to work through their problems.’

‘And who decides when they’ve done that?’

‘Usually it’s the patient and the psychologist together.’

‘What if they don’t have the same opinion?’

‘Can you elaborate?’

‘Take Bruno Schulz’s little eunuch, grovelling at the bedside of the woman he can’t have while a stallion licks her bottom — would you say he’s worked through his problems?’

‘I very much doubt it.’

‘But maybe that’s how he wants things to be; maybe he likes that arrangement.’

‘And what about you? Is that an arrangement you’d like?’

‘You’re a lot younger than I am, Leon. Maybe how you are now isn’t how you’ll be when you’re my age.’

‘You’re not answering my question.’

‘Look, in these sessions you’ve had me putting all kinds of things into words and you’ve helped me get to where I don’t have to put everything into words any more. I know the way I am now probably isn’t your idea of a good way to be but it feels right for me, OK? And from here on out I think I can go it alone.’

‘Are you saying that you want these sessions to stop?’

‘That’s what I’m saying.’

DeVere ran his thumbnail down the outside edge of the notes stacked in Klein’s file. ‘It’s your choice of course, but I have to say that I think there’s still work to be done.’

‘There’s always work to be done but it doesn’t always take two people to do it.’

‘Then all I can say is, good luck and I hope you won’t be sorry.’

‘I feel lucky already, Leon, and I’ve given up feeling sorry.’

Melissa drove skilfully and with assurance, taking the van smoothly up the Embankment, over the Vauxhall Bridge, thence by various turnings to Camberwell New Road and Camberwell Grove. The day was delicately grey with a light rain, Klein’s favourite kind of weather; the auguries were good, he felt, and things were definitely moving forward. Camberwell was lively with shops and off-licences; the colours were intensified by the rain and all of his senses were heightened.

‘Well,’ said Melissa, ‘there’s no turning back now: once you know where I live you’ll always be able to find me.’

‘Does that bother you?’

‘No. We’ve come a long way from your first visit to Angelica’s Grotto and this is where we are now.’

‘Every life is a winding road, Melissa.’ She was wearing a short denim skirt and black stockings as always. He put his hand on her thigh and she let it stay there.

She was able to park close to the house, a Georgian one with three storeys and a front garden. ‘The flat’s in the basement,’ she said as they went up the steps to the front door.

Knowing for the first time where Melissa lived and actually being in her place overwhelmed Klein with its intimacy, made his heart beat faster. He thought of her dressing and undressing; he thought of her naked in the bath. He recalled their telephone conversation when she’d been with Lydia: he’d imagined a huge bed in a large room full of warm colours — orange, rose, crimson. There were silk sheets and oriental cushions and flowers, possibly a canary as well. Their bodies had been golden in the lamplight of his mind.

Melissa led him through the hallway, down a narrow staircase, and suddenly they were in the bedroom. A bit of the front garden was visible through a small window that allowed a little grey rainlight to reveal a threadbare green carpet, a double bed in cracked white enamel with a rumpled India-print bedspread, a night table, a chest of drawers, and a chair with a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans draped over the back of it.

Smells funky, said Oannes.

On the floor by the chair were a pair of trainers several sizes too large for Melissa. ‘Whose are those?’ said Klein.

‘Leslie’s.’

‘He’s your partner?’

‘He’s an employee. We work late hours and he spends a lot of time here.’

‘Much of it in bed with you.’

‘I never promised you a nunnery, Harold. I need regular servicing.’

‘I see.’

‘That’s a very unfriendly “I see”. Is one displeased?’

Klein was imagining the two of them in bed, Melissa with her legs wrapped around Leslie. He heard her orgasm, watched the kissing that followed, heard her sighs of satisfaction.

‘Harold,’ she said, ‘are you displeased?’

‘I don’t know — it’s just that I hadn’t realised that I’d be subsidising Leslie as well as you.’

‘He’s part of Angelica’s Grotto. And it’s not as if we’re proper lovers, you know — he’s not the only one I take to bed.’

‘Yes, of course that makes a big difference.’

‘Are you going to sulk now?’ She put her arm around him and brought her face close to his. He affected indifference. ‘Don’t be that way, Harold — be nice.’ She kissed him and it was impossible not to return the kiss. There was a pounding of feet overhead. ‘Children,’ she said. ‘Three of them. I’d love to get out of here. Wouldn’t you like to have me closer to you?’ She kissed him again and put his hand on her breast. ‘Wouldn’t it be good if you and I and Leslie were all under one roof? We could all work in peace and you’d be able to keep an eye on things,’ another kiss, ‘night and day.’ He looked into the middle distance. ‘Come on, Harold, you know you’ve been longing to see me do it with a stallion.’ He looked at the ceiling, noted the cracks. ‘And of course,’ another kiss, ‘there’s a lot to be said for three in a bed.’

‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘whether the gratification of one’s desires is really what life is all about?’

‘You have to admit that it’s not a bad way to pass the time while you’re wondering, mmm?’

‘Do you think my place would do? I doubt that I could survive the hassle of moving house.’

‘Your place would be lovely; it’s a great location and it’d be the best possible arrangement. What about the finances? Will you give me a lump sum or do you want to do a contract of some kind? I don’t want to sound too heartlessly practical but if you were to hop the twig without putting something in writing I’d be left high and dry, wouldn’t I.’

‘I won’t leave you high and dry, Melissa. That’ll all be taken care of

She kissed him again and hugged him. ‘Whatever you think of me, Harold, I really am very fond of you. Underneath all the surface crap there is something good between us, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, Melissa, there is.’

‘And do I taste good?’