Nicholas Mosley - Hopeful Monsters

— Do I imagine that means just turn up for me?

After a time I followed Melvyn to the bar. I thought — Where are you now, my angel, my loved one.

Melvyn was saying 'The more success Hitler has the more he'll get rid of those terribly useful Jews. And those pretty Aryan boys couldn't boil a cup of pee.'

Then one of the men at the bar, whom I had met when I had been with Caroline, said to me 'There was a chap in here asking about you the other day.'

I said 'Oh was there?'

He said 'A German chap. He heard someone talking about you and Caroline.'

I thought I might say — Do you know what's happened to Caroline?

I said 'Who was he?'

He said 'Working at the university. A philosopher. Got out of Germany a year or two ago. One of them. Said he knew you.'

I said 'Was he called Bruno?'

The man said 'Can't remember his name.'

I thought — Do I really think that things work like this?

I said 'Do you know what's happened to Caroline? I heard she was back from Spain.'

He said 'She's around. Why not call her?'

I thought — But you and I, so we are all right, my angel, my loved one.

Melvyn was saying to someone at the bar 'But I am a secret agent, didn't you know?'

Someone was saying, 'No, I didn't.'

Someone else said 'But how can you be a secret agent if you do not keep it secret?'

Melvyn said 'Good thinking!'

I said 'I'm going.'

Melvyn said 'Stop that man! He's a Nazi agent!'

Out in the street there were placards announcing news of Hitler's latest threats against Austria, of this or that statesman's journeys between London, Vienna, Berchtesgaden. I bought a paper and sat in a cafe. I thought — Well, here we are, my angel: out on a mystery tour from the Garden of Eden.

There was news of the latest trial in Russia. Some high-up Soviet dignitary had confessed to crimes that he could not possibly have committed; then in court he had denied his confession; then the next day he had confirmed it again. The newspaper reporter speculated — was this the only way in practice he could make a protest? Or was the whole to-and-fro business a put-up job by the prosecution to give verisimilitude to the ludicrous business of confession? I thought — But the point is, this is all at random, it is chaos.

There was also an item about some minor official on trial who was accused of arranging the distribution of thousands of tons of deliberately poisoned wheat-seed in Odessa. The official was called I. A. Platov. I thought — Might those be the initials of Mitzi's father? Not ofKolya.

Then — If things are random, is it not possible to avoid them?

— But what is surprising about these events in Berchtesgaden, Vienna, Moscow, is not that they happen, but that anything different ever happens -

— Would it not be a miracle if Kolya got to Cambridge!

I saw your face looking in through the cafe window. I had chosen the cafe because it was opposite the building where Melvyn had rooms, but I had not expected you to come back before evening. You came in and said 'I didn't think you would be here.' I said 'No, I didn't think you would be here.' You said 'I've missed you.' I said 'I've missed you too.' You said 'Now we can have lunch.' I said 'Yes, I'm starving.'

Then I said 'I think I may have news of Bruno.'

You said'Oh.'

I said 'He may be at the university.'

'What university?'

'London. You could make enquiries at the central office building.'

You said 'You want me to find Bruno!'

I said 'I don't want you to find Bruno!'

You said 'Oh no, it does not matter what we want, I suppose.'

I said 'Someone told me when I was having a drink in a pub with my horrible friend Melvyn.'

I thought — Those terrible people in Moscow, Vienna, Berchtes-gaden — they get what they want?

After lunch you went to the university to make enquiries about Bruno. I went back to Melvyn's rooms and lay on the bed. I felt lost and sad. I thought — Human beings are required to be something too difficult if they are to create, to break things up, to create. After a time I went to Melvyn's desk and opened it and on the top of a pile of letters — placed there, it seemed, so that anyone who opened the desk would immediately see it — was a letter from Caroline to Melvyn which had been written, I could tell, a year and a half ago from Barcelona. It began -

You wouldn't believe it, but M. has gone off to the front! Oh what a relief! He was becoming such a bore. You'd like my new friend, though. Do you remember what you once said about some boy? — Wherever you kiss him, it's like kissing his beard.

I put the letter back and closed the desk. I thought — Well, I was sad and depressed anyway -

— What do you do, fart at the Devil?

— But I have known that long ago I should have made some contact with Caroline.

I tried to remember the telephone number of Caroline's aunt: I found it in the telephone book. I got through, and asked if Caroline

was there. Caroline's aunt said 'She'll be back this evening.' I tried to explain to myself what I was doing. I thought — Explanations are ridiculous.

Then — It is knowing that things are ridiculous, that will get us round and round the world on our journeys from and to the Garden of Eden?

I skimmed through some of the volumes of Melvyn's pornographic library. I thought — All this pain, this violence, it is what kills people; without it they would not survive?

When you came back in the evening you were with Bruno: I was sitting at the window looking out. You both seemed so young; you came skipping down the pavement — you with your long legs and hips like a pestle and mortar; like one of those animals down from the skies. I thought — It is when I have been away from you that I can see you once more like this; pounding at my heart from anywhere in the universe.

You said 'You remember Bruno?'

I said 'I remember Bruno!'

Bruno said 'You were the character in that play by Brecht who wandered on to the stage and stole our darling daughter Elena!'

I said 'It took me some time.'

Bruno said 'Ah, the timing is not our business.'

I thought — You and Bruno and Trixie, when you were young, when you visited Kleist's grave, you knew what was your business?

I said 'You're teaching philosophy?'

Bruno said 'No one has heard of Heidegger in this happy country! And now I learn from Wittgenstein that there is nothing anyway to be said.'

I said 'But there are still beautiful ways of saying this.'

Bruno said 'Ah that is why Heidegger has become silent!'

You were looking so pleased, with your hands clasped in front of you, like a mother proud of her children.

I said 'You two go out by yourselves to dinner tonight.'

You said 'You come too!'

I said 'No, you have a lot to talk about.'

Bruno said, 'Sir, are you casting aspersions on my dishonour?'

When you and Bruno had gone — talking, talking; skipping on the pavement as if on hot coals in a game that fakirs or children play — I rang up Caroline's aunt's house and this time Caroline answered the telephone and I said 'This is Lazarus come from the dead, come back to tell you all; I shall tell you all.' Caroline said 'Good God,

I'm not talking to you!' I said 'Meet you behind the gasworks, twenty minutes.' This was a phrase I had used when years ago we were arranging to meet in the pub. I rang off. I thought — Well, this may not work. Then — But after all it is quite fun. And what was that other phrase — Shall we sin, that grace may abound?

— And the answer was God forbid!

In the pub there were one or two of the people who had been there that morning. When Caroline came in she looked much more grown-up and assured. I thought — Well God, if you want to, forbid! She said 'I'm really not going to talk to you!' I said 'You mean, we can skip the preliminaries?' She said 'I thought you were dead.' I said 'I very nearly was.' She said 'Then we were told that you'd gone over to the Fascists.' I said 'I think your friend with the beard wanted to have me shot.' She said 'Well, you've perked up, haven't you!'