Hanif Kureishi - Collected Stories

Not only that, the terrain was rough. As I teetered there, trying to decide what to do, I was aware of how strong the desire to live was. Had it come to it, I could have stood on that ledge for days. I’d been depressed in my life, at times; suicidal, even. But I wasn’t ready to give up my mind or my body. I wanted to live.

I jumped. It must have been twenty feet down. After hitting the earth, every staggering step was perilous. It seemed to be rocky and sandy at the same time. I couldn’t stop to think. I slipped and fell most of the way; it was impossible for me to stay on my feet. My body got cut all over. What was the foliage made of? Tin? Razors? It was like rolling through broken glass. However, to my knowledge I wasn’t being followed.

At the bottom of the hill, I halted. I couldn’t hear anyone following me. I waited for more of the night to pass. Cautiously, I made my way towards the beach. By now, even the copulators had gone.

I broke into the bathroom of a deserted restaurant where I washed and shaved off my beard. Then I lay down on some benches, pulling a damp tarpaulin on top of me. There were slithery creatures, insects and dogs around, and men who wanted my body. I didn’t sleep.

I was at the harbour before it was light, waiting for the first boat to take me back to Piraeus. I’d get to Athens and decide my next move. I had covered my head in a long, light scarf; I wore a wraparound skirt and dark glasses. I wouldn’t get on the boat until the last moment.

I was sitting at the back of a café facing the harbour when someone whispered the name I’d so foolishly given myself in my arrogance. Even as I thought of running once more, I began to shiver with terror.

Alicia, of course, had come looking for me.

‘How did you find me?’ I said. I indicated my outfit. ‘Do these colours suit me?’

‘Yes, but not all at once.’

‘Some of the men on the island have been threatening me again. I know they work down here.’

She said, ‘I thought: what would I do here? Where would I hide? And there you were.’

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Do I look conspicuous?’

‘Only to me. Anyone try to pick you up yet?’

‘I’m too much of a tragic figure.’

‘A tragic figure with most unladylike hairy ears,’ she said. We had coffee together. She said, ‘You’re running.’

‘Time to move on. Did you enjoy it last night?’

‘Something strange happened. I’ll tell you about it another time.’ Then she said, ‘I won’t be staying at the Centre much longer. Patricia will be after me, when she finds you’ve gone. I’m disappointed you’re fleeing like this.’

‘I’m sorry if I have made things difficult for you, but she’ll never leave me alone.’

‘It’s the price the beautiful have to pay. Aren’t you used to it yet?’

Watching the boat being loaded up, I was getting nervous; I asked if she minded getting me a ticket from the harbour office. I could see several likely candidates for Matte’s men.

On the ship, I hid in the women’s toilet. After, when people started to bang on the door, I had to come out. I thought I was done for. I made my way to the car deck and hid under a blanket on the back seat of an old Mercedes. The boat docked and the driver got in without noticing me. Outside, as the traffic queued to leave, I hopped out of the car and ran for it. I sprinted out of there and into the crowd, and got a taxi.

I’m not sure why, but I returned to the part of London I knew. I felt safer, and more at ease in my mind, in a familiar place. In your own city, you don’t have to think about where you are. Being pursued had frightened me; I was scared all the time now. I had no idea whether Matte would still be following me. I must have convinced myself that he’d lost interest in me. Perhaps his brother had died; maybe he’d found another body. I am, however, old enough to know how few of our thoughts bear any relation to the way things are.

I checked into the same dismal hotel as before. When I needed money I worked in a factory packing Christmas toys. Perhaps Matte was right, and it had been a mistake to ‘hire’ a body for six months. I didn’t have time to begin a new life as a new person, and, expecting to go back, I missed my old life. I was in limbo, a waiting room in which there was no reality but plenty of anxiety.

One morning at eight, there was a knock on my door.

In this hotel, there were always knocks on the door — refugees, thieves, prostitutes, drug dealers; people who would never be able to afford new bodies or even to feed adequately the one they already had; people looking for other people and no one wanting to do you a favour, if it wasn’t in exchange for another one. Usually, though, they would declare themselves. This time there was no reply.

Maybe Matte had come for my body. I’d seen the movie. Men in dark suits were outside. While they were kicking the door in, I’d hide in the shower with my gun, or climb out of the bathroom window and down the fire-escape. That was the young man’s route, and I wouldn’t be a young man in my mind, however lithe my body. For there was another part of me, my older mind, if you like, which was, by now, outraged by the violation, the cheek of it. My body wasn’t for sale, though I had, of course, purchased it myself.

‘How did you find me?’

Alicia was sitting on the bed; I stood looking at her. She had shaved her head and put on weight. She wore a top with a bow at the front.

‘Why have you grown a full beard?’

‘Alicia, I am hoping to be taken seriously.’

I’d forgotten how nervous she was. ‘Leo, it’s good to see you. How much do you mind me coming to see you?’

‘Not as much as you might think. I do need to know how you tracked me down.’

‘I haven’t told Patricia — she isn’t downstairs, if that’s what’s bothering you. I looked through your things one time … trying to … I wanted to know who you were. You do know, I guess, that you’re as elusive as a spy. It turned me into a spy. I found a receipt for this hotel and wrote the address into one of my poems. Still,’ she said, ‘if you want to be private, why shouldn’t you be? Do you want me to go?’

‘I’ll come with you. Let’s get out of here. I never stay in this room during the day.’

I was putting on my coat.

She said, ‘You’re writing.’

In the corner of the room, on a small table, were some papers.

‘Please don’t look at that,’ I said.

‘Why not?’

‘Leave it! I’m trying … to do something about an old man in a young man’s body.’

‘You’ve done a lot. Is it a film?’ She was turning the pages. ‘There’s dialogue. It’s professionally laid out. Have you written before?’

‘You encouraged me, Alicia.’

‘It was the other way around. Will you try to sell it?’

‘You never know. Give it here now.’

‘What a strange boy you are!’

I took the papers from her and put them under the bed.

In the café, I asked, ‘How is my friend Patricia?’

‘What a trouble-maker you are. People had paid to attend her classes but she refused to get out of bed. You showed her something was possible, some intensity of feeling with a man, and you took it away again. She would send for me and we’d talk about you for hours, wondering who you were. She would rage and weep. The only relief was when that man from the boat came to see her.’

‘Man?’

‘The playboy. Matte.’

‘Alicia, what happened?’

‘I was sent out of the room. I heard everything from outside the window.’

‘And?’

‘You owed him something, he said. He wouldn’t say what it was. You didn’t borrow money from him?’ I shook my head. ‘He wanted to find you, wanted to know whether there was anyone who knew you.’