Hanif Kureishi - Collected Stories

A young woman was indeed looking at me. I smiled, and received a timid wave.

‘As always, you’re popular,’ said Alicia. ‘Can I ask who it is?’

‘I don’t know. She looks like a movie star.’

‘You know movie stars?’

‘Of course not, but they all know me.’ I returned the woman’s wave. ‘Come on.’

We all strolled around. Patricia seemed to be doing a fine impression of Princess Margaret in her heyday. Alicia and I, at least, weren’t sure whether to resist or swoon at the sight of so much gold. Alicia said she liked the way English Londoners were sneery and hated to be credulous, whereas I now found that tedious. This time round I wanted to like things.

When, for a moment, Alicia went to fetch a drink, the ‘film star’ who’d waved earlier covered herself up and hurried over.

‘How funny to meet you here,’ she said, kissing me.

I kissed her back; I had to. But I was afraid she’d known me as ‘Mark’; perhaps we’d been ‘married’. I vowed that when I next saw Ralph I would put an end to his immortality.

‘Don’t you know me?’

I looked at her until a picture came into my mind. It was of an old woman in a wheelchair wearing a pink flannel night-gown. This woman and I had become Newbodies on the same day. We were, in a sense, the same age.

I said, ‘Good to see you. How are you enjoying it?’

‘I don’t know. Wherever I go, people try to touch or have me. If I don’t comply, they’re nasty. Still,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t have men fighting over me if I were a pile of ash.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. What else will you do?’

‘I’ve got a record contract,’ she said. ‘And you?’

‘It’s strange, like being a ghost.’

She glanced around. ‘I know. Relax now. There are others here like us. Everyone else is so silly and blind.’

‘How many others like us?’

I looked at the faces and bodies behind her. How would I know who was who?

‘More than you think. We play tennis and we stay up late at cards, talking about our lives. We have plenty of time, you see. Like pop stars and royalty, we stick together.’

I thought of them, the beauties around a table together, like moving statues, an art work.

I said, ‘Soon, everyone in the world will know.’

‘Oh, yes, I think so. Does it matter? Come and talk to me later.’ She was looking down at her feet. ‘Do you love your body now?’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

‘I’m a little too tall and my waist is too thick. My feet are big. Overall, I’m not comfortable.’

She left when Alicia rejoined me. ‘You say you don’t know that woman. Will you go with her now?’

‘Go where? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You can if you want,’ Alicia said. ‘There is time. We’ve set sail.’

‘Set sail for where?’

Alicia was laughing at me. ‘I don’t know. But I do know that setting sail is what boats tend to do. We’re on here until dawn.’

I ran to the side of the boat. We were already in motion. It hadn’t occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to escape at any time. I considered jumping into the sea, but wasn’t convinced I could swim so far. Anyway, Patricia was beside me straight away. She seemed to be insisting that I stay beside her all night. Not only at her side, in fact, but within touching distance.

She was rubbing my shoulders. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you. I’ve never wanted anyone so much. I’d never have given myself permission to touch someone like you before.’ Her fist was somewhere in my head. ‘Where did you get that hair?’

I almost said, ‘I saw it in a fridge and bought it, along with everything else you like about me.’ I wondered whether that would matter. Now, at least, I knew something. The world is different for the beautiful. They’re desired, oh yes; other bodies are all over them. But they don’t necessarily like them.

‘Come and see this,’ Patricia said, without a glance at Alicia. ‘A young man will be interested.’

I followed her through the boat to a cabin door. She pushed it. The room within was almost completely dark.

I stepped in. It took a couple of minutes for my eyes to adjust. There must have been about thirty naked people in the room, with a greater proportion of men than women. In a corner, there were Goyaesque mounds of bodies, lost in one another. It was difficult to tell which limb belonged to which body. I wondered whether some of the limbs had become independent of selves, turning into creatures in their own right, arms dancing with legs, perhaps, and torsos alone. There was music, talking, and — a lonely noise — the sound of others’ pleasure.

Patricia tugged at my shirt. ‘Let’s join in.’

‘I’m feeling queasy,’ I said. ‘I’m not used to the … motion.’

‘Where are you going?’

I hurried through the rooms, corridors and decks of the boat, looking for somewhere she wouldn’t find me for a while. For ages I heard her calling my name.

I found a small cabin. Candles were burning; the music was North African. There were oriental cushions, wall hangings, rugs, a lot of velvet. The style amused me, reminding me of the 1960s.

I liked the boat. Why couldn’t I get work as a deckhand? But I was annoyed at having to leave the Centre, where I had expected to spend the rest of my time in this body. But I had got in too far with the people there. It was no longer restful. Whatever happened tonight, I would leave the island in the morning, taking the first boat wherever it went. I would go to another island and find a job in a bar or disco.

I heard footsteps. It wasn’t Patricia, but Matte, the owner of the yacht, in shorts, bright shirt and flip-flops.

‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’

‘Am I in the wrong place?’ I got up. ‘You forgot to set aside a quiet room. It was chaotic and I needed to get away.’

He walked right up to me and stared into my eyes. ‘Always ask first.’

I said, ‘If I had a room, it’d be like this. The mid-sixties has always been one of my favourite periods.’

‘Right. Want a glass of wine now?’

‘If that’s okay. We were introduced, but in case you’ve forgotten, the name’s Leo.’

He said, ‘Matte. Why would someone your age be interested in the sixties?’

‘Must be something to do with my parents. And you?’

He was fixing drinks for both of us. ‘Those days people knew how to have a laugh.’ Cept I was the wrong age.’

His manner of speaking gave me the impression that English wasn’t his first language, but it was impossible to tell where he was from. I’d have been inclined to say, if asked, ‘from nowhere’.

‘Was this your father’s boat?’

His body stiffened. ‘Why the hell should it be?’

‘I’m asking, is it a family possession?’

He said, ‘I hate it when people suggest I haven’t worked, that I’m only a rich playboy. I do play at things — I play at being a playboy — but it’s a vacation, not a vocation.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to think of me as a fool. I’ll get out.’

He came after me and pulled me back roughly. ‘Wait right here. You have to stay now.’

‘Why?’

‘I recognise you from somewhere.’

‘How could we have met? I’m neither a teacher nor student, only a cleaner at the Centre on the island.’

‘Ever been a builder?’

‘No.’

‘Coach driver?’

‘Nope.’

‘I have seen you,’ he continued, screwing up his eyes. ‘It’s not your face that I particularly recognise.’ He walked round me then, as if I were a sculpture. ‘It’ll come back to me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I might look like a hairy idiot but I’ve got perfect vision and an excellent memory.’