Malcolm Bradbury: The History Man

'It was only a couple of weeks ago, Melissa,' says Howard. 'You know what they say,' says Melissa, 'a week's a long time in politics. Fantastic. There was action then. People really felt something. But what happened to it?'

'It's around,' says Howard. 'You know what's the matter with people now?' says Melissa, very seriously, 'They just don't feel any more.'

'Not the way they did last week,' says Howard. 'They sure don't feel me any more,' says Melissa. 'The night's young,' says Howard. 'Not as young as it used to be,' says Melissa. 'But I mean, seriously, who, anywhere, now, is getting down to the real, root, radical problems of the age?'

'Who?' asks Howard. 'I'll tell you whom,' says Melissa, 'nobody, that's whom. Who's authentic any more?'

'You seem pretty authentic,' says Howard, slicing bread. 'Oh, God, no, Christ, really, do I?' says Melissa Todoroff, agonizing. 'Do I really seem like that to you? I'm not, How, it's just a front. I'm more authentic than these other bastards, but I'm not authentic the way I mean authentic.'

'You are, Melissa,' says Howard. 'You're giving me shit,' says Melissa Todoroff, 'you're a good guy but you're giving me shit.' Melissa Todoroff walks towards the door, precariously carrying her glass of wine; she says, 'I'm going right back there into that party and then, wow, watch out.' At the door she stops. 'I don't care what your friends say about you, you're a good guy,' she says, 'a radical's radical. And if you really work at it, you could be a radical's radical's radical.'

Howard stands for a while longer, in the kitchen, slicing his hostly bread; then, the chore done, he walks back into his own party. It has changed, grown weak at the centre, active at the circumference. In the living-room, where the main illumination is the flashing string of lights on the children's Christmas tree, there is torpor; a few people lie about, chatting, in varieties of intimacy. In the Victorian conservatory, there is desultory rhythmic dancing; junior members of faculty bounce and rock in the near-darkness. In the dining-room, the piles of bread and cheese stand in a state of neglect; Howard's dutiful ministrations are no longer needed. The party's momentum is clearly elsewhere, in nooks here and there, in the upper parts of the house, in the garden, perhaps even in the waste land beyond. A few people are going, in the hall; there in the hall stands a figure wearing an anorak and a large orange backpack, from which protrude various large objects. 'I'm off now, Howard,' says Felicity Phee. 'Someone's giving me a ride to London. I've cleared out all my stuff.'

'I'll see you next term,' says Howard. 'I don't know whether you will see me next term,' says Felicity. 'Haven't you sort of passed me up?'

'Well, we'll meet in class,' says Howard. 'I doubt it,' says Felicity. 'I went to see Professor Marvin today, and asked him to find me a new teacher.'

'Oh, I don't think he'll do that,' says Howard, 'after the trouble with George Carmody.' Felicity looks at him; she says, 'I really don't think you'd better stand in my way. I mean, I know as much as anyone about what happened with George Carmody. Do you plan to get rid of me too?'

'Of course not,' says Howard. 'Of course not,' says Felicity, 'I know everything about you.'

'What does that mean?' asks Howard. 'I wanted to help you,' says Felicity. 'I wanted you to recognize me.'

'You did help me,' says Howard. 'Okay, well, it didn't do me any good, did it?' asks Felicity. 'You won and I didn't. So now just leave me alone.'

'I will,' says Howard. 'Well, do,' says Felicity. 'Say goodbye to Barbara for me. If you can find her.'

The party can spare its host now, having become entirely self-made, as good parties must; a little later, Howard goes downstairs, into his basement study. The sodium light shines over the tops of the broken houses, penetrating stark orange designs onto the walls, the bookcases, the African masks. The street is empty of people; Howard draws the curtains. 'So this is the scene of your many triumphs,' says someone coming down the stairs. 'It's all right, Annie,' says Howard, 'no one can see us. He's not there any more.'

'I rather wish he was,' says Annie Callendar, coming into the study. 'The critical eye.'

'Is it strange to be on the inside?' asks Howard. 'Yes,' says Annie, 'I suppose I ought to be raking through your, book.'

'It's gone,' says Howard, 'it's being printed.' Later on, under Howard on the cushions, Annie Callendar says: 'I can't help thinking about him out there.'

'He's gone, he's gone,' says Howard; and indeed Carmody has, fled weeks ago after a brief student sit-in-the banners said 'Preserve academic freedom' and 'Work for Kirk'-had demanded his expulsion, after the story of his campaign against Howard had become widely known. 'I never knew whether you believed me, Howard,' says Annie Callendar. 'I really didn't tell him.'

'Tell him what?' asks Howard lazily. 'You didn't tell him what?'

'I didn't tell him what I saw that night,' says Annie. 'You down here laying little Miss Phee.'

'Of course I believed you,' says Howard. 'Did you?' asks Annie. 'Why?'

'I know who did tell him,' says Howard. Annie stirs under him; she says, 'Who did? Who'd do that?' Howard laughs and says, 'Who do you think? Who else knew?'

'Little Miss Phee?' says Annie Callendar. 'That's it,' says Howard. 'You're smart.'

'But why should she?' asks Annie. 'Why get you into trouble?'

'You see, she wanted to help,' says Howard. 'It's an odd way to help you,' says Annie. 'I shan't help you like that.'

'She thought like that,' says Howard. 'What she said was, she wanted to defend me against the attacks of the liberal reactionary forces, and they needed something to attack me with so that she could defend me properly.'

'It sounds a little crazy,' says Miss Callendar. 'She is a little crazy,' says Howard. The party noise booms above their heads. Annie Callendar says, 'When did you find out?'

'Oh, I don't know,' says Howard. 'Before he went?'

'Yes, it was,' says Howard. 'On the strength of that, you got rid of him,' says Annie Callendar. 'Rose to your present radical fame on campus.'

'He was an historical irrelevance,' says Howard. 'Did you know before you came to see me that afternoon?' asks Annie Callendar. 'I can't remember,' says Howard. 'Of course you can remember,' says Annie, 'you did.'

'I may have done,' says Howard. 'Did you plan it with her?' asks Annie. 'Did you know all along?'

'I think we discussed it,' says Howard. 'But what was it for?' asks Annie. 'I wanted you,' says Howard, 'I just had to find a way to you.'

'No,' says Annie, 'that wasn't all. It was all a plot.'

'I thought you liked plots,' says Howard. 'In any case, it's the plot of history. It was simply inevitable.'

'But you helped inevitability along a little,' says Annie. 'There's a process,' says Howard. 'It charges everyone a price for the place they occupy, the stands they take.'

'You seem to travel free,' says Miss Callendar. 'Some travel free,' says Howard, 'some pay nice prices. You enjoy your price, don't you?'

'Going to bed with you?' asks Miss Callendar. 'Which was the real end in view,' says Howard. 'No,' says Miss Callendar. 'Sushi,' says Howard, 'of course it was.' Up above, the party noise vibrates. A small trouble is taking place in the hall; Mrs Macintosh, holding one carrycot, stands facing Dr Macintosh, holding another. 'You slipped upstairs with her,' she says, 'and I was breastfeeding.'

'The girl was crying,' says Dr Macintosh, 'she was very upset.'

'Right,' says Mrs Macintosh, 'this is the last party you come to.'

But it is a small altercation, and down in the basement they do not hear it. Nor do they hear when, higher in the house, in a guest bedroom empty of Felicity's things, a window smashes. The cause is Barbara who, bright in her silvery dress, has put her right arm through and down, savagely slicing it on the glass. In fact no one hears; as always at the Kirks' parties, which are famous for their happenings, for being like a happening, there is a lot that is, indeed, happening, and all the people are fully occupied.