Hanif Kureishi - The Last Word

Mamoon didn’t come out. Through the window Harry saw the old man watching the news. He was, after all, just a man, and not merely a narrative. Mamoon just nodded when Harry appeared in the doorway.

‘All well, sir?’ said Harry, striding in with a bottle.

‘All it takes to cheer me is a bright smile from Alice, and my favourite vodka, as you well know.’

‘Let me thank you for your kind assistance, sir, with Marion.’

‘Yes, my spirits rather dropped when I noticed that you seemed cheerful. Is she well?’

‘Formidable, but frail.’

‘Ah. She was full of life, before.’

‘Mamoon, she told me everything.’

‘Everything, eh? Did that take long?’

‘She showed me some letters and told me how much she loved and admired you as a man and writer. She said you were generous with your time and affection. It was the bitterest moment of her life when you came back here.’

‘I feel a but coming at me between the teeth of a rabid dog.’

‘She said your life changed when you were with her. You refound your sexuality, and developed it. Mamoon, sir, she described events which involved other men, as well as her female friends.’

He laughed. ‘Casanova claimed that Dante forgot to include boredom in his description of hell. As you might have heard during your research, I suffer from ennui as an illness, and this can make us sadists. I do recall Marion attempted some feeble tricks to keep me interested. I blame her for nothing. Say what you like about me, Sherlock, but I will question you severely if you condemn her for this nonsense.’

‘When you were writing she kept a diary. She’s working on a book about her adventures with you.’

‘She is?’

‘You had no idea?’

‘If every semi-literate fabulator scribbles away non-stop why would it be my concern — or yours, for that matter?’

Harry said, ‘She says there’s a publisher willing to take it if she tells all. I guess’, he went on, ‘the only way to stop her would be for you to talk to her. To persuade her. I am sure she would love to hear your voice.’

It took a lot to make Mamoon spark up, but this information made his eyes dart about. He composed himself before saying, in his slow sonorous voice, ‘As the genius Nietzsche told us, “The eternal hourglass of existence will be turned again and again, and you with it, you dust of dust.”’ He looked at Harry. ‘And you are dust of dust.’

He pulled himself up out of the chair and left the room.

Harry went to Alice upstairs and shut the door behind them.

Harry sat close to Alice and confessed how mad and discouraged this part of Mamoon’s story was making him. It was true, you couldn’t just say anyone was a sexual sadist. Mamoon, predictably, was already hostile, and Marion wouldn’t let him quote from the letters — not that they confirmed much. Unless there was more than Marion’s allegations to go on, he would have to drop the material and write a bland book.

‘I will pull out of the project if I can’t do the sort of intimate, psychological portrait we’ve talked about,’ he said. ‘The archaeology of a whole man. He speaks; they all speak. I can’t bear the idea of just being mediocre, Alice. I would rather die than be ordinary.’

‘What can we do?’

‘You could go to him and ask if Marion told the truth.’

She looked horrified. ‘Why would he tell me, Harry?’

‘The old fool flatters himself he can seduce you. Haven’t you been prancing in the woods with him?’

‘Not prancing, no. He can’t walk far. As we go, we discuss the nature of love and art.’

Harry said, ‘Let’s turn it around. If you can persuade the old man to own up, you will help me out, and indeed the family we will have. Our future together could be secured.’

She was biting her nails. ‘Why are you pulling me into this, Harry?’

She didn’t want to be put in the position of having to ‘trick’ Mamoon, as she put it. He trusted her; she liked him, and it was awful when Harry became so insistent and domineering.

‘I need your help,’ he said. ‘We’re in financial trouble. Won’t you do this small thing for me?’

Before supper Harry nodded at Alice. She went downstairs to Mamoon and gave him the scarf, cuff links and tie she knew would cheer him up. She offered him her arm, and suggested they take a stroll. She had her phone with her, to use as a recorder. Harry had briefed her about the numerous acts she was to ask Mamoon about. There was quite a number of stories; she’d been shocked to hear them, and didn’t believe Mamoon would do such things. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ she kept saying.

‘Just be certain to remember them all. I’ll be interested to hear what his attitude to this part of his past is.’

They were gone a long time. When Alice returned with Mamoon, she couldn’t look at Harry, but she did hand him her phone which he took upstairs and plugged into his computer. He heard her playfully asking Mamoon if he’d been as macho as she’d heard. Had he ever used his power and position for sexual advancement? Was he as dominant as he appeared? The old man grunted and laughed. She said there were some ‘sexual excitements’ she wanted to try herself, if she could talk Harry into them. Had Mamoon tried, she wondered, any of the following?

Vaguely Mamoon confirmed, or at least didn’t deny, much of what she asked. In truth, he said, Marion had had many strong wishes, and had turned out, to his regret, to be too demanding for him. Female passion was a whirlwind: he couldn’t devote himself to a woman; he needed time to ponder and write. Come to think of it, he preferred art to life. Once he’d met Liana everything had seemed easier. As a defence against unwanted excitement, marriage was a prophylactic he would recommend to anyone.

Alice sat on the bed watching him while Harry listened to the recording, nodding and making notes.

‘Don’t I look pale?’ she said.

He looked at her. ‘Pale is your colour.’

‘Don’t you want to know what happened?’

She asked Harry to go outside. He followed her into the nearest field, walking quickly. She was white and shaking. Her eyes were dilated.

She hit Harry several times and shouted, ‘Why did you make me talk dirty to a stranger? I kept thinking he was enjoying it in some obscene way. And when I’d turned the phone off, guess what, I had a panic attack — violent palpitations, like being hit in the chest with a rock. I had to lie down on the ground.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’

‘You’re never sorry!’

He said, ‘What can I do? This is maddening! You did offer to help me on this project. I never said it would be easy.’

She said, ‘Mamoon stroked my forehead until I felt better. He was worried that the things he was telling me would make me mad and ill.’

‘He was right. You’re sensitive. Are you okay now?’

‘I’m not going to thank you for putting me in that position. Are you sure you actually want to take care of me? Liana wonders if you really do. She has reservations about your character.’

‘And I about hers. I love you, darling. Can I kiss you?’

‘How could you even think about it when I’m in this state?’

She was already walking back to the house. It wouldn’t be a good idea to speak to her for a while. His desire for the truth had made him a criminal. She didn’t want to eat with Liana and Mamoon, she didn’t want to talk at all, but wrapped herself in a duvet on the sofa in the living room and slept there in a woolly hat, sucking her thumb. The next morning he drove her to the station, where she took a train to Cornwall for a photoshoot. Harry kissed and thanked her, and reminded her of his adoration, but there was nothing he could do with her in this mood.