Russell Hoban - Angelica's Grotto

‘Delicious.’

‘Perhaps you should refresh your memory.’

He refreshed it. The room took on warm colours; almost his tinnitus was like a canary.

‘Show me the website setup,’ he said.

‘Through here.’

Beyond the bedroom were a tiny kitchen and a small room in which were two computers with modems, a printer, a scanner/copier, a fax machine, and three telephones. These occupied a long table and there was also a drawing table with a lightbox on it. There were two chairs; the rest of the space was filled by filing cabinets. ‘This is where it all happens,’ said Melissa.

‘Amazing. I was expecting a much bigger setup, more like the control room for the national grid.’

‘This is all you need — it’s mostly in the software. We can’t use a British ISP so we’ve got a file-transfer-protocol access to a Dutch server. We put everything together here and shoot it over there and it ends up on the Net where professorial types like you can drop in for intellectual stimulation. As I’ve said, we could really use one more person for the filing and the housekeeping on the database; it’s difficult doing this and my job at King’s as well.’

‘How long have you been running the website, Melissa?’

‘It’s only about six months although it seems longer.’

‘And what got you started on Angelica’s Grotto?’

‘I told you, Harold, I stabbed my father twelve times.’

‘In other words, you’re not going to explain.’

She cocked her head, closed one eye, and made a little noise out of the side of her mouth. ‘My history is not part of the deal. Mystery yes, history no.’

‘Will you tell me, at least, why you chose the Ingres painting of Ruggiero and Angelica for your website?’

‘Yes, I will. For centuries, Harold, women have been chained to the rock of male fantasies, so I thought I might as well use naked Angelica to attract the types I wanted to study.’

‘Emotionally dysfunctional types like me.’

‘Right. So far I’ve compiled data on the eighty-one men who’ve been answering my questions as you did. Their fear of women and their feelings of inferiority are shown in how they react to the website material and what they say when we talk one to one — all of them feel less than equal to the female.’

‘Do you think men ever will feel equal to women?’

‘Obviously they can’t feel equal until they are equal, and whether or not that’ll ever happen I can’t say. But before any change can happen there has to be recognition of the present situation, and that’s the object of this study.’

‘I’m afraid I’m too old to change, Melissa.’

‘Nobody’s asking you to. I’m not exactly a role model either and I’m too perverse to change, so I guess the two of us will have to carry on being less than perfect.’

‘Is it possible that perversity is natural, that everything generates its own variations?’

‘That’s something else I’d like to look into but it’ll have to wait until I finish this project.’

‘While we talk there’s nobody minding the store.’

‘At this time of day we just let the website run itself. Later we’ll do one-to-ones and take phone calls.’

‘Where’s Leslie now?’

‘He’s working in a porno flick and won’t be back till this evening.’

‘Don’t you worry about AIDS?’

‘We both get tested regularly and we always take precautions.’

‘I can understand the appeal of rough trade, but he’s so, so …’

‘He’s so what, Prof? So black? So well-hung? So good at giving me satisfaction?’

‘Is he producing or performing in this porno flick?’

‘Performing, and he’s a very reliable performer, believe me — much in demand.’

‘The people who make these films, do you associate with them at all?’

‘It’s a company called Labyrinth. They put me on to Lydia. She’s the female lead in ‘Monica’s Monday Night’. She also appears under different wigs in the other picture stories. She’s very good but she’s not cheap.’

‘Who’s Angelica?’

‘That’s Shannon. I got her from Labyrinth too.’

‘She looks like a Waterhouse nymph.’

‘Who’s Waterhouse?’

‘A Victorian painter. You must have seen reproductions of Hylas and the Nymphs or The Lady of Shalott here and there?’

‘I don’t recall but the Tennyson poem is certainly a load of crap. If she wanted Lancelot she could have found better ways of getting his attention than dying. That poem is a kind of snuff movie but it’s respectable because they never actually get down to business. Typical wanker chauvinist piggery. And I doubt that Waterhouse’s nymphs ever got up to or down to what Shannon does in a day’s work.’

‘At Labyrinth, are there any women called Kimberly or Tiffany?’

‘Several. Do you want their phone numbers?’

‘Not yet.’ Klein’s mind, like a tongue going into a cavity, kept giving him pictures of Melissa and Leslie doing what the Lady of Shalott and Lancelot didn’t. ‘You said that Leslie was an employee. Does his pay cover sexual services?’

‘Yes, it does. With men I take nothing that I don’t pay for.’

‘What about Lydia? Do you pay her for sex?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Some things I’ll explain, Harold — others not.’

‘And you’re paying me with sex in advance for what you expect to get from me.’

‘I’ve told you: you’ve got the quids and I’ve got the quos. We also have something more but don’t try to define it and don’t try to romanticise it, OK?’

‘OK, Melissa, I promise not to. If you’ll drive me to Oval Underground Station I can make my way home from there.’

‘Leaving in a huff, are we?’

‘In a train, if you’ll drop me off at the station.’

‘So where are we, Prof?’

‘In Rubicon Grove, Lola. I’ll let you know when I’ve made the crossing.’

Nobody said anything in the van on the way to the station. Melissa took Klein’s hand and put it on her thigh and he let it stay there while he spoke to himself in silence.

‘“The sense of danger must not disappear: …”’ said Klein to Melissa on the telephone.

‘“The way is certainly both short and steep,”’ she replied, ‘“However gradual it looks from here; …”’

‘“Look if you like, …”’

‘“But you will have to leap.” Are you leaping?’

‘It seems that way. When can you and Leslie move in?’

‘Are you sure you want us to?’

‘Yes, I’m sure, Melissa.’

‘It’s a strange situation.’

‘That’s what life is, isn’t it?’

‘I mean, I know I’m taking advantage of you but at the same time I know that you want me to.’

‘That’s exactly right — I have no illusions about you and me and this is how I want it.’

‘Well, we can do it tomorrow evening if that’s a good time for you. We’ve only got the website gear and some clothes — no furniture except the tables and file cabinets.’

‘Fine, come ahead whenever you’re ready.’

‘You’ve got two phone lines, right?’

‘Right.’

‘We’ll need four more. I think it usually takes about a week before they can install them.’

‘I’ll order them now.’

‘Thanks. I’m really looking forward to this move, Harold.’

‘So am I, Melissa. Being an old fool is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.’

‘If you’re having fun maybe you’re not such a fool. See you tomorrow. Kiss, kiss, kiss.’

He kissed her back. ‘See you tomorrow.’

That Melissa had been able to quote the Auden poem with him pleased Klein greatly, made him feel that whatever was between them was growing and continually opening up new territory. After he rang off he paced the house restlessly, considering the working and sleeping arrangements. The front bedroom where he and Hannelore had slept would be for Melissa and …? Him? Or Leslie? A hot wave of irritation flooded over him; he resented having to consider Leslie, resented the idea of yielding place to him. On the other hand, the thought of claiming a regular place in Melissa’s bed in payment for a roof over her head embarrassed him; also the thought of his old body beside her young one every night made him squirm. No, the front bedroom would be for Melissa and Leslie. He would take the back bedroom and the website equipment could be set up in the guest room.