Paul Theroux - The Family Arsenal

‘I told her to get out,’ said Murf, his voice becoming a quack. ‘She wouldn’t go. Brodie let her in. But don’t worry — she don’t know anything —’

‘Shut up,’ said Hood, without turning to look at Murf’s little gestures, his accusatory leaps at Lady Arrow. Hood bore down on her with his narrowed eyes.

‘This here’s Lady Arrow,’ said Brodie. ‘She’s a friend of mine.’

‘A very old friend,’ said Lady Arrow.

‘You said it.’ Hood smiled.

It took a moment for this to register. Then Lady Arrow straightened: she would make him regret saying that.

He said, ‘Anything I can do for you?’

‘Yes, you can tell Murf to stop accusing me of spying. He won’t listen to me.’

‘He’s just doing his duty,’ said Hood. ‘We don’t want strangers here.’

‘I’m hardly a stranger to Brodie,’ said Lady Arrow, slurring her words to load them with sexual intimacy. ‘But if you insist, I’ll go.’

‘I insist.’

‘It wasn’t Brodie’s fault at all. I invited myself. I didn’t realize you had such strict rules. But I quite understand. Under the circumstances, it would be rather awkward if you had people dropping in.’

‘Under the circumstances, I think you’d better get your ass out of here,’ said Hood evenly.

Lady Arrow smiled. ‘They warned me you were naughty.’

‘Piss off,’ said Murf, standing just behind Hood, seeming to shelter from the gaze of the tall woman.

‘Don’t get excited, squire,’ said Hood. ‘She’s going.’

‘What a pair of monkeys you look,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘But I know you’re perfectly harmless. You wouldn’t touch me.’

‘Wouldn’t I?’ Murf stepped forward and crouched as if preparing to pounce on her.

‘Easy, squire.’ Then he spoke to Lady Arrow. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘I’d like a word with you before I go. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.’

He told her his name, then he said, ‘I don’t have anything to say to you.’

‘Perhaps not, but that’s beside the point. I have something to say to you. Do you think we could be alone?’

‘No,’ said Murf. ‘Tell her to get out.’

‘Run along!’ said Lady Arrow impatiently. ‘Brodie, be an angel — do take him away.’

Brodie said, ‘Come on, Murf. Let’s go.’

Murf appealed to Hood: ‘Don’t listen to her. I caught her snooping, but she didn’t see nothing. She’s Brodie’s mate — I didn’t want her here, but Brodie said —’

‘Upstairs, squire,’ Hood said softly. He had not moved. He had entered the room and folded his arms; his posture was unchanged, nor had his eyes shifted from the tall woman’s face. Murf muttered a complaint, and he kicked at the floor, but he did not reply directly to Hood. He screwed up his face at Lady Arrow, then turned and swaggered out of the room, still muttering. Brodie shrugged and without a word followed him. Her abruptness hurt Lady Arrow, who until that moment had expected the girl to return with her to Hill Street. She wanted her and she resented whatever hold this dark man had over her.

But she said, ‘How very Victorian you are — what a stern parent. You remind me of my father. You walk in and they flutter like doves. I suppose they accept it because they know so little, but when they know that you have no right to order them about they’ll hate you. I’m sure you don’t understand Brodie at all.’

‘If that’s all you have to say, you can go.’

‘Mister Hood, I believe in freedom.’

‘That’s fine with me, Mrs Arrow.’

‘Never call me that — Susannah, if you like,’ she said, and went on in a different tone. ‘Freedom must be taken, snatched if necessary, whatever the cost. Do you think a woman like me has no interest in such things?’

‘A woman like you is probably interested in a lot of things,’ said Hood. ‘But take my advice — don’t get interested in us. You might be disappointed.’

‘I find all of you fascinating,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

‘Don’t bother. You’re not going to be here very long.’

‘Now you’re being stern with me, and I’m twice your age. Do I know your father?’ She smiled. ‘Really, you shouldn’t take that tone. I’d like you to visit me sometime. I think you’d enjoy meeting my friends, exchanging ideas with them. They have more in common with you than you might think.’

‘No thanks.’

‘I think you’ll change your mind,’ she said with playful malice.

‘Look, sister,’ he said, ‘I don’t think you’re my type. If you’re through you can hit the road.’

‘Oh, God,’ said Lady Arrow in admiration, ‘I wish I could say that like you.’

Hood moved, and Lady Arrow reacted, startled by this slight gesture of Hood unfolding his arms. He took off his raincoat and threw it over the back of a chair.

Lady Arrow strolled to the small fireplace and said, ‘Yes, I think you will change your mind and visit me.’ She selected one of the carvings, an insect worked in ivory, and weighed it in her hand. She said, ‘I’ve been admiring your art collection. It’s really rather beautiful.’

‘Presents from people I happen to like. Put that down before you break it.’

‘They’re hard to get in England — very scarce nowadays. I imagine you were in Asia — they’re the sort of pieces one finds there, aren’t they?’

‘If you say so.’ Hood took the carving from her hand and put it back on the mantelpiece.

‘Brodie and Murf haven’t the vaguest idea. Oh, I’m sure they find them pretty, but they don’t know their true value. Brodie is so sweet. She thinks that brass ashtray is some sort of treasure. That scroll. It’s silk. Ch’ing Dynasty, is it not? It’s late, but it’s lovely. No, they don’t know how valuable things can be. Children are unmoved by sham and humbug. But they are unmoved by sincerity and beauty, too. Such simple creatures — not blind, but so short-sighted.’

Hood was going to speak, to prevent her from saying anything more he agreed with. She had come close to echoing his own feeling in calling them children and defining their simple slowness. But Lady Arrow interrupted him. She said, ‘May I say you are a most fortunate man, Mister Hood?’

‘Your time’s up,’ he said.

‘But I’m not finished!’

‘Now,’ said Hood, raising his voice to insist.

‘Yes, I’ve been admiring your art collection. In these rooms —’

‘Listen,’ said Hood.

‘— and upstairs,’ Lady Arrow went on. ‘That painting. Your little man was awfully cross, but in the event he didn’t seem to know I’d seen it.’

‘You’ve got a nerve.’

‘Not me, Mister Hood,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘It’s you who have the nerve. But I admire you for it. You see, I own that painting. Yes!’ She laughed in long mocking shouts, trumpeting in his face. ‘It’s mine! It belongs to me!’

Hood relaxed; he stepped away and smiled. ‘Which painting are you talking about?’

‘You know! The one in your cupboard.’

‘I painted that myself. It’s called “Death Eating a Cracker”.’

‘It was my father’s. You can call it anything you like.’

‘ “The Widow”, “The Jailer”, “The Saint”,’ he said. ‘It’s just a copy.’

‘The Rogier self-portrait,’ she said. ‘And you needn’t try to deceive me. I can assure you it’s the original.’

‘You’re lying, sweetheart.’

‘No, I’m not. I was ashamed to admit it — it was so valuable. How can you own a thing like that? It was on loan — that got me a tax deduction, for charity, believe it or not. It was so embarrassing I loaned it anonymously. I’ve had so many calls from the curator — he wanted me to make a statement. Weren’t you surprised by the silence? The lack of response? And do you know, I was glad it was stolen! Relieved — I can’t tell you how relieved I was. Now this! It exceeds my wildest dream. It is magnificent!’