IEffi

fa" i

fu{J
TTIE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA

Hanif Kureishi was born and brought up in Kent. He read

philosophy at King's College, London. In r98r he won the
George Devine Award for his play Outskirts, and in r98z he
was appointed Writer-in-Residence at the Royal Court
Theatre. In ry84 he wrote My Beautiful Laundrette, which
received an Oscar nomination for Best Screenplay. His
second screenplay Sammy and Rosie Get Laid (1987) was
followed by London Kills Me Gggr) which he also directed.
The Buddha of Suburbia won the Vhitbread Prize for Best
First Novel in r99o and was made into a four-part drama
series by the BBC in ry93. His version of Brecht's Mother
Courage has been produced by the Royal Shakespeare
Company and the Royal National Theatre. His second novel,
The Black Album, was published tn ry95. With Jon Savage he
edited The Faber Book of Pop (tgg).His collection of short
stories, Loue in a Blue Time, was published o, rygq. His story
My Son theFanatic, from that collectiory was adapted for film
and released in 1998. lntimacy, his third novel, was published ln ry98. His play Sleep With Me premired at the
Royal National Theatre tn 99g.His second collection o
stories, Midnight All Day, was published in zooo.

by the same author

HANIF

Jiction

THE BLACK ALBUM

LOVE IN A BLUE TIME
INTIMACY
MIDNIGHT ALL DAY
GABRlEL,S GIFT

KUREISHI
The Buddha

screenplays

of Suburbia

LAUNDRETTE & THE RAINBOi/V SIGN

$AlvlMY AND ROSIE GET LAID
I,()NDON KILLS ME
()lllslilt{ts AND oIHER PLAYS
MY S()N I ilti tANATTC

IIIiAIII'IFI.JI,

I'hYu

Pt,AYB ()Ntr The Klng nnrl Mr,,

Outnk lrtn, lI rrrlt rl I rre, lll
!{l,11l, Wllll

rr

le o l'

lurngt'

l\4ll

ilNl-/lh|lt

l|t1 ll^lllil{ Il(X)K ()ll 1'ol'

(cdlt('d with Jon Savage)

,i

I
I

First Published in 1990

by Faber and Faber Limited
Queen Square, London wclN 3.lu

Phototypeset by Wlmaset, Birkenhead, Wirral

Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Mackays of Chadram plc, Charam, Kent

AJl rights
@

reserued

PART ONE
'

Hanif Kureishi, r99o

The right tlf Hani Kureishi to be identified as the author o this

work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of
the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of ttade
ot otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated uithout the
publishet's pror consent in any t'orm of binding ot couer othet than lhat
in which it is piblished and without a similat condition including
this conditionbeing itrposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library
I9BN

o-577-14274-5

ln

the Suburbs

CHAPTER ONE

My name is Karim Amir, and I am an Englishman bom and bred,

almost. I am often considered to be a fu*y kind of Englishman, a
new breed as it were, having emerged from two old histories. But I
don't care - Englishman I am (though not proud of it), from the
South London suburbs and going somewhere. Perhaps it is the odd
mixture of continents and blood, of here and there, of belonging and

not, that makes me restless and easily bored. Or perhaps it was

being brought up in the suburbs that did it. Anyway, why search the

inner room when it's enough to say that I was looking for trouble,
any kind of movement, action and sexual interest I could find,
because things were so tl*-y, so slow and heavy, in our family, I
don't know why. Quite frankly, it was all getting me down and I was
ready for anything.
Then one day everything changed. In the morning things were
one way and by bedtime another. I was seventeen.
On this day my father hurried home from work not in a gloomy
mood. His mood was high, for him. I could smell the train on him as
he put his briefcase away behind the front door and took off his
raincoat, chucking it over the bottom of the banisters. He grabbed
my fleeing little brother, Allie, and kissed him; he kissed my mother
and me with enthusiasm, as if we'd recently been rescued from an
earthquake. More normally, he handed Mum his supper: a packet of
kebabs and chapatis so 8reasy their paper wraPPer had sintegrated. Next, instead of flopping into a chair to watch the television
news and wait for Mum to put the warmed-up food on the table, he
went into their bedroom, which was downgtairs next to the living
room. He quickly stripped to his vest and underpants.
'Fetch the pink towel,' he said to me.
I did so. Dad spread it on the bedroom floor and ell on to his
knees. I wondered if he'd suddenly taken up religion. But no, he
placed his arms beside his head and kicked himself into the air.
'I must praise,' he said in a stiled voice.

,Praise for what?'I said reasonably, watching him with interest

and suspicion.
They've called me for the damn yoga Olympics,' he said' He
easily became sarcastic, Dad.

H was standing on his head now, balanced perfectly' His

stomach sagged down. His balls and prick fell foward in his pants.
Ttre considerable muscles in his arms swelled up and he breathed

energetically. Like many Indians he was small, but Dad was also
elegint an handsome, with delicate hands and manners; beside
him most Englishmen looked likeclumsy giraffes. He was broad and

sron8too:whenyounthe,dbeenaboxerandfanaticchest-

He was as proud of his rest as our next-door neighbours

the sun's first smile he would pull off
with a deckchair and a copy of
the
garden
into
out
his shirt and etride
in India he shaved his chest
that
me
told
the Nar statesman. He
regularly so it8 hai would sprout more luxuriantly in years to come.
I ieckoned that hls chest was the one area in which he'd been

"'p"r,du''
were of their kitchen range. At

fonrard-thinktng.

Soon,mymother,whowasinthekitchenasu8ual,cameintothe

room and eaw Dad practising for the yoga Olympics' He hadn't
done thig for montha, go ghe knew gomething was up' She vore an
apron with flowerg on lt and nvlped her hands repeatedly on a tea
twel, a eouvenir from Woburn Abbey. Mum was a plump and
unphyeical woman with a pale round facrc and kind brown eyes' I
imaginea that she considered her body to be an inconvenient obiect
surrounding her, as if she were stranded on an unexPlored desert

island. Mostly she was a timid and cpmPliant Person, but when
exasperated she could get nenlily agtessive, like now'
'Allie, go to bed,' she said sharply to my brother, as he poked his
head around the door' He was wearing a net to stop his hair going

crazy when he slept. She said to Dad, 'Oh God, Haroon, all the front
of you's sticking out like that and everyone can see!' She turned to
me. 1ou encorrrate him to be llke thlo. At leaat pull the curtains!'
'It's not necessary, Mum. There ign'l another house that can see us
for a hundred yards - unless the/re watching through binoculars''
That's exactly what they are doing,' she said.
I pulled the curtains on the back garden. The room immediately
seemed to contract. Tension rose. I couldn't wait to get out of the

house now. I always wanted to be somewhere else, I don't know

why.
When Dad spoke his voice cante out squashed and thin.
'Karim, read to me in a very dear voice from the yoga book.'
I ran and fetched Dad's preferred yoga book - Yoga for Women,
with pictures of healthy women in black leotards - ftom among his
other books on Buddhism, Sufism, Confucianism and Zen which he
had bought at the oriental bookshop in Ce Court, off Charing
Cross Road. I squatted beside him vr/ith the book. He breathed in,
held the breath, breathed out and once moe held the breath. I
wasn't a bad reader, and I imagined myself to be on the stage of the
old Vic as I declaimed grany, 'Salamba Sirsasana revives and
maintains a spirit of youthfulness, an asset beyond price. It is
wonderful to know that you are ready to face up to life and extract
from it all the real ioy it has to offer.'
He grunted his approval at each sentence and opened his eyes,
seeking out my mother, who had dosed hers.
I read on. 'This position also prevents loss of hair and reduces any
tendenry to greyness.'
That was the coup: geyness would be avoided. Satisfied, Dad
stood up and put his clothes on.
'I feel better. I can feel myself coming old, you see.' He softened.
'By the way, Margaret coming to Mrs IGy's tonight?'She shook her
head. 'Come on, sweetie. Les go out together and enioy ourselves,
eh?'
'But it isn't me that Eva wants to see,' Mum said. 'She ignores me.
Can't you see that? She treate me like dog's muck, Haroon. I'm not
Indian enough for her. I'm only English.'

'I know you're only English, but you could wear a sari.' He

laughed. He loved to tease, but Mum wagn't a satisfaory teasing

victim, not realizing you were supposed to laugh when mocked.
'Special occasion, too,' said Dad, 'tonight.'
This was obviously what he'd been leading up to. He waited for us
to ask him about it.
'What is it, Dad?'
'You know, they've so kindly asked me to speak on one or two
aspects of Oriental philosophy.'
Dad spoke quickly and then tried to hide tris pride in this honour,

this proof of his importance, by busily tucking his vest in' This was

my opportunity.
'I'll come with you to Eva's if you want me to' I was going to 8o to
the chess club, but I'll force myself to miss it if you like.'
t said this as innocently as a vicar, not wanting to stymie things by
seeming too eager. I'd discovered in life that if you're too eager
others tend to get less eager. And i you're less eager it tends to make
others more eager. So the more eager I was the less eager I seemed.
Dad pulled up his vest and slapped his bare stomach rapiy with

both hands. The noise was loud and unattraive and it illed our
small house like pistol shots.
'OK,'Dad said to me, 'you get changed, Karim.' He turned to
Mum. He wanted her to be with him, to witness him being respected
by others. 'If only you'd come, Margaret.'
I charged upstairs to get changed. From my room, the walls
decorated ceiling to floor with newspapers, I could hear them
arguing downstairs. Would he persuade her to come? I hoped notMy father was more frivolous when my mother wasn't around. I put
o.' o.r" of my favourite rcoids, Dylan's'Positively Fourth Street', to
get me in the mood for the evening.
It took me several months to get ready: I changed my entire outfit
three times. At seven o'clock I came downstairs in what I knew were
the right clothes for Eva's evening. I wore turquoise flared trousers,
a blue and white flower-pattemed see-through shirt, blue suede
boots with Cuban heels, and a scarlet Indian waistcoat w'ith gold
stitching around the edges. I'd pulled on a headband to control my
shoulderJengl;h nzzy hair. I'd washed my face in old Spice.

Dad waited at the door for me, his hands in his pockets. He wore a

black polo-neck sweater, a black imitation-leather iacket and grey

Marks and Spencer cords. When he saw me he suddenly looked

agrlat9d.
'Say goodbye to your mum,'he said.
In the living room Mum was watchingStqtoe and Son and taking a
bite from a Walnut Whip, which ahe replaced on the pouf in ftont of
her. This was her ritrral: she allowed herael a nibble only once every
fifteen minutes. It made her glance constantly between the clock and
the TV. Sometimes she went berserk and scofed the whole thing in
two minutes flat. 'I deserve my Whip,' she'd say defensively.
When she saw me she too became tense.

'Don't show us up, Karim,' she said, continuing to watch TV. 'You
look like Danny La Rue.'
'What about Auntie lean, then?' I said. 'She's got blue hair.'
'It's dignified for older women to have blue hair,'Mum said.
Dad and I got out of the house as quickly as we could. At the end
of the street, while we were waiting for the zz7 bus, a teacher of mine
with one eye walked past us and recognized me. Cydops said,
'Don't forget, a university degree is worth f2,w a yea for life!'
'Dont worryi said Dad. 'He'll go to university, oh yes. He'll be a
leading door in London. My father was a doctor. Medicine is in our

whole family.'
It wasn't far, about four miles, to the IGys', but Dad would never
have got there without me. I knew all the streets and every bus
route.

Dad had been in Britain since r95o - over twenty years - and for
ifteen of those years hd lived in the South London suburbs. Yet
still he stumbled around the place like an Indian iust off the boat,
and asked questions like, 'Is Dover in Kent?' d have thought, as an
employee of the British Govemment, as a Civil Service derk, even as
badly paid and insignificant a one as him, he'd just have to know
these things. I sweated with embarrassment when he hted
strangers in the street to ask direions to places that were a hundred
yards away in an area where he'd lived for almost two decades.
But his naivet made people protective, and women were drawn
by his innocence. They wanted to ntap their arms around him or
something, so lost and boyish d he look at times. Not that this was
entirely uncontrived, or unexploited. When I was small and the two
of us sat in Lyon's Comerhouse drinking milkshakes, he'd send me
like a messenger pigeon to women at other tables and have me
announce, 'My daddy u/ants to give you a kiss.'
Dad taught me to flirt with everyone I met, girls and boys alike,
and I came to see charm, rather than courtesy or honesty, or even
decency, as the primary social grace. And I even came to like people
who were callous or vicious provided they were interesting. But I
was sure Dad hadn't used his own gentle charisma to sleep with
anyone but Mum, while married.
Now, though, I suspected that Mrs Eva Kay - who had met Dad a
year ago at a 'writing for pleasure' class in an upstairs room at the
King's Head in Bromley High Street - wanted to chuck her armr

around him. Plain prurience was one of the easons I was so keen to
go to her place, and embarrassment one of the reasons why Mum
refused. Eva Kay was forward; she was brazen; she was wicked.
On the way to Eva's I persuaded Dad to stop off at the Three Tuns
in Beckenham. I got off the bus; Dad had no choice but to follow meThe pub was full of kids dressed like me, both from my school and
ftom other schools in the area. Most of the boys, so nondescript
during the day, now wore cataracts of velvet and satin, and bright
colours; some were in bedspreads and curtains. The little groovers
talked esoterically of Syd Barrett. To have an elder brother who lived

in London and worked in fashion, music or advertising was an

inestimable advantage at school. I had to study the Melody Maks and
Nal Musicnl Erqess to keep up.
I led Dad by the hand to the back room. Kevin Ayers, who had

been with Soft Machine, was sitting on a stool whispering into a

microphone. Two French girls with hirn kept falling all over the
stage. Dad and I had a pint of bitter each. I wasn't used to alcohol
and became drunk immediately. Dad became moody.
'Your mother upsets me,' he said. 'She doesn't ioin in things' Is
only my damn effort keeping this whole family together. No wonder
I need to keep my mind blank in constant effortless meditation.'
I suggested helpfully, 'Why don't you Bet divorced?'
'Because you wouldn't like it.'
But divorce wasn't something that would occur to them. In the
suburbs people rarely dreamed of striking out for happiness. It was
atl familiariy and endurance: security and safety were the reward of
dullness. I clenched my ists under the table. I didn't want to think
about it. It would be years before I could get away to the city,
London, where life was bottomless in its temptations.
'I'm terrified about tonight,' Dad said. 'I've never done anything
like this before. I don't know anything. I'm going to be a fuck-up.'
The Kays were much better othan ug, and had a bigger house,
with a liftle drive and garage and car. Their place stood on its own in
a tree{ined road just off Beckenham High Strect. lt also had bay
windows, an attic, a greenhouse, thr e bcdrooms and central
heating.
I didn't recognize Eva Kay when she greeted us at the door, and
for a moment I thought we'd hrrned up at the wrong place. The only
thing she wore was a full-length, multi<oloured kaftan, and her hair

was down, and out, and up. She'd darkened her eyes with kohl so
she looked like a panda. Her feet wer bare, the toenails painted
alternately green and red.
When the front door was safely shut and we'd moved into the
darkness of the hall, Eva hugged Dad and kissed him all over his
face, including his lips. This was the first time I'd seen him kissed
with interest. Surprise, surprise, there was no sign of Mr Kay. When
Eva moved, when she furned to me, she was a kind of human crop
sPrayer, pumping out a plume of oriental .rolna. I was kying to
think if Eva was the most sophisticated person I'd ever met, or the
most pretentious, when she kissed me on the lips too. My stomach
tightened. Then, holding me at arm's length as if I were a coat she
was about to try on, she looked me all over and said, 'Karim Amir,
you a so exotic, so origin! Is sur a conEibution! Is so you!'
Thank you, Mrs Kay. If I'd had more notice, d have dressed up.'
'And with your fathes wonderful but cnrshing wit, too!'
I felt that I was being watred, and when I looked up I saw that
Charlie, her son, who was at my school in the sixth form and almost
a year older, was sitting at the top of the stairs, partly concealed by
the banisters. He was a boy upon whom natute had breathed such
beauty - his nose was so strght, his cheeks so hollow, his lips such
rosebuds - that people were afraid to approach hin, and he was
often alone. Men and boys got erections just being in the same room
as him; for others the same effect was had by being in the same
country. Women sighed in his presence, and teachers bristled. A
few days ago, during the school assembly, with the staf sitting like a

flock of crows on the stage, the headmaster was expatiating on

Vaughan Williams. We were about to hear his Fantrcia on Grensleetses. As Yid, the religious-education maoter, sanirnoniously
lowered the neee on to the dusty record, Charlie, standing along
the row from me, started to bob and shake his head and whisper,
'Dig it, g it, you heads.' ffiras 6oing down?' we said to each
other. We soon found out, for as the headmaster put his head back,

the better to savour Vaughan Williams'g mellow sounds, the

opening hisses of 'Come Togethe were rattling the speakers. As
Yid pushed his way past the other teachers to re.take the record
deck, half the school was mouthing the words '. . . groove it up
slowly . . . he got iu-iu eyeballs . . . he got hair down to hie
knees . . .' For this, Charlie was caned in front of us all.

Now he lowered his head one thirty-secondth of an inch in

acknowledgement of me. On the vay to Eva's d deliberatply

excluded him rom my mind. I hadn't believed that he would be at
home, which was why I'd gone into the Three Tuns, in case he'd
popped in for an early-evening drink.
'Glad to see you, man,'he said, coming slowly downstairs.
He embraced Dad and called him by his first name. What
confidence and style he had, as always. When he followed us into
the living room I was trembling with excitement. It wast like this at

the chessdub.
Mum often said Eva was a vile showoffand bg-mouth, and even
I recognized that Eva was slightly ridiculous, but she was the only

Person over thib| I could talk to. She was inevitably good-tem-

pered, or she was being passionate about something. At least she

dn't Put armour on her feelings like the rest of the miserable
undead around us. She liked the Rolling Stones's first album. The
Third Ear Band sent her' She d Isadora Duncan dances in our ront
room and then told me who Isadora Duncan was and why she,d
liked scarves. Eva had been to the last concert the Cream played. In
the playground at stool before we went into our dassrooms Charlie
had told us o her lateat ouEage: she'd brought him and his
girlfriend bacon and eggs in bed and asked them if the d enioyed
making love.
When she came to our house to pick up Dad to drive him to the
Writes cicle, she always ran uP to my bedroom first thing to sneer

pictues of lvarc Bolan. 'What are you reading? Show me your

new books!' she'd demand. And once, 'IAlhy ever do you tike
Kerouac, you Poo
Do you know that bnilliant remark
at my

"i.gln?

Truman Capote made about himT

'No.'
'He said, "Is not *itin&

'But Eva

-'

i(sfing!"'

To teach her a legson I ad her the laat pagee of Ou ttv Rold. ,Good
defencel'she cried, but murmurrd - che alwaye had to have the last
wordr The cruellert thlng you can do to Kerouac is reread him at
thirty-eight.' lnavlng, ahe opened her goody bag, as she called it.
'Here's somethlng elee to read.' It waa Candida ,I,ll ring you next
Saturday to test you on it!'

The most thrilling time was when Eva, lying on my bed and

listening to the records I wanted to play her, started to get pretty

intimate and everything, telling me the secrets of her love life. Her
husband hit her, she said. They never made love. She wanted to
make love, it was the most ravishing feeling on offer. She used the
word "fuck'. She wanted to live, she said. She frightened me; she
excited me; somehow she had sfurbed our whole household from
the moment she entered it.
What was she up to now with Dad? What was going on in her
front room?
Eva had pushed back the furniture. The pattemed armchairs and
glass-topped tables were up against the pine bookshelves. The
curtains were drawn. Four mide_aged men and four mide-aged
women, white, sat coss-legged on the floor, eatingpeanuts and
drtnking wine. Sitting apart from these people with his back against
the wall was a man of indeterminate ate - he could have been
anything between twenty-five and forty-five- in a threadbare black
corduroy suit and old-fashioned heavy black shoes. His trouser
bottoms were stuffed inside his socks. His blond hair was dirty; his
pockets bulged with torn paperbacks. He didn't appear to know
anyone else, or i he d he wasn't prepared to talk to them. He
seemed interested, but in a scientiGc way, as he sat smoking. He was
very alert and nervous.
There was some chanting music going on that reminded me of
unerals.

Charlie murmured, Don't you iust love Bar?'

'lt's not really my bag.'
'Fair 'nough. I think I've got something thas more your bag
upstairs.'
'Where's your dad?'
'He's having a nervous breakdown.'
'Does that mean he's not here?'
'He's gone into a kind of therapy centre where they allow it all to
happen.'
In my family neryous breakdowns were as exotic as New Orleans.
I had no idea what they entailed, but Charlie's dad had seemed the
nervous type to me. The only time he came to our house he sat on his
own in the kitchen crying as he mended Dad's fountain pen, while
in the living room Eva said she had to buy a motorcycle. This made
Mum yawn, I remember.
l1

-Now Dad was sitting on the floor. The talk was of music and
books, of names like Dvo k, Krishnamurti and Eclectic. Looking at
them closely,

reckoned that the men were in advertising or design

or almost artistic jobs like tha. Charlie's dad designed advertisements. But the man in the black corduroy suit I couldn,t work out at
all. Whoever these people were, there was a terrific amount of
showing off going on - more in this room than in the whole of the
rest of southern England put together.
At home Dad would have laughed at all this. But now, in the thick
of it, he looked as i he was having the highest time of his whole life.
He led the discussion, talking louy, internrpting people and
touching whoever was neaest. The men and women - o<cept for
Corduroy Suit - were slowty gathering in a circle around him on the
floor. Why did he save sullenness and resentful grunting for us?
I noticed that the man sitting near me tumed to the man next to
him and indicated my father, who was now in full flow about the
importance of attaining an emptlr mind to a wornan who was
wearing only a man's long shirt and black tights. The woman was
nodding encouragingly at Dad. The man said in a loud whisper to
his friend, 'Why has our Eva brought this brown Indian here? Aren,t
we going to get pissed?'
'He's going to give us a demonsEation of the mystic arts!,
'And has he got his camel parked outsde?,
'No, he came on a magc carpet.'
'Cyril Lord or Debenhams?'
I gave the man a sharp kick in the kidney. He looked up.
'Come up to my pad, IGrim,'said Chartie, to my relief.
But beore we could get out Eva turned off the standard lamp.
I

over the one remaining light she draped a large aphanous

neckscarf, leaving the room illuminated only by a pink glow. Her

movements had become balletic. One by one people fell silent. Eva
smiled at everyone.
'So why don't we relax?' she sald. They nodded their agreement.
The woman in the ehlrt aaid, 'So why don,t we?, ,yes, yes,, someone
else said. One man flapped his hands tike loose gloves and opened
his mouth as wide as he could, and thrust his tongue out, popping
his eyes like a gargoyle.
Eva turned to my father and bowed to him, fapanese fashion. ,My

good and deep friend Haroon here, he will show us the Way. The

Path.'

'fesus fucking Christ,'I whispered to Charlie, remembering how

Dad couldn't even find his way to Beckenham.
'Watch, watch closely,' murmured Charlie, squatting down.
Dad sat down at the end of the room. Everyone looked keenly and
expectantly at him, though the two men near me glanced at each

other as

if they wanted to laugh. Dad spoke slowly and with

conidence. The nervousness he'd shown earlier appeared to have

disappeared. He seemed to know he had their attention and that
they'd do as he asked. I was sure he'd never done anything like this
before. He was going to wing it.
The things that are going to happen to you this evening are going
to do you a lot of good. They nury even change you a little, or make
you want to change, in order to rear your full potential as human
beings. But there is one thing you must not do. You must not resist.
lf you resist, it will be like driving a car with the handbrake on.'
He paused. Their eyes were on him.
'We'll do some floor work. Please sit with your legs apart.'
They parted their legs.
'Raise your arms.'
They raised their arms.
'Now, breathing out, stretch down to your right foot.'
After some basic yoga positions he had them lying on their backs.
To his soft commands they were relaxing their fingers one by one,
then their wrists, toes, ankles, foreheads and, peculiarly, their ears.
Meanwhile Dad wasted no time in removing his shoes and socks,
and then - I should have guessed it - his shirt and dean string vest.
He padded around the circle of dreamers, lifting a loose arm here, a
leg there, testing them for tension. Eva, also lying on her back, had
one naughty, slowly enlarging eye open. Had she ever seen such a
dark, hard, hairy chest before? When Dad floated past she touched
his foot with her hand. The man in bla corduroy couldn't relax at
all: he lay there like a bune of sticks with his legs crossed, a
buming cigarette in his fingers, gazing reflectively at the ceiling.
I Nssed to Charlie, 'Let's get out of here before we're hlpnotized
like these idiots!'
'Isn't it just fascinating?'
On the upstairs landing of the house was a ladder which led up to
13

Charlie's attic. 'Please remove your watch,, he said. ,In my domain

time isn't a faor-' So I put my watch on the floor and climbed the

two stratocasters - leaned against the wall in a line. Big cushions

we'e flung about. There were piles of records and the four Beatles in
their Sergunt Pqpa, perid were on the wall like gods.
'Heard anything good lately?, he asked, lighting a cane.

aeah.'

I knew immediately from the look on Charlie,s face that I,d been
an animal, a philistine, a child. charlie threw his shoulder-length
hair back, looked at me tolerantly for some time, and then smil'

'I think it's time you bathed yorrr eanl in something rey

nourishing, Karim.'

He put on a record by the pink Floyd calledlJmmagumnu.lforced

mysel to listen while Charlie sat opposite
-" "',d rolled a joint,
sprinkling a dried leaf over the tobacco.
'Yo'r father. He's the best. He,s wise. Dyou do that meditation
sfuf every morning?'
I nodded. A nod can't be a lie, right?
'And chanting, too?'
'Not ranting every day, no.,

ramed theatre Posters for Genet plays. There were bamboo and
parchment scrolls with tubby Orientals copulating on them. There
was a bidet. As I sat there with my trousers down, taking it all in, I
had an extraornary reveLation. I could see my life dearly for the
first time: the future and what I wanted to do. I wanted to live always
this intensely: mysticism, alcohol, sexual promise, clever people and
drugs. I hadn't come upon it all like this before, and now I wanted
nothing else. The door to the future had opened: I could see which
way to go.
And Charlie? My love for him was unusual as love goes: it was not

Benerous. I admired him more than anyone but I didn't wish him
well. It was that I preferred him to me and wanted to be him. I
coveted his talents, face, s$rle. I wanted to wake up with them all
transferred to me.
I stood in the upstairs h. The house was silent except for the
distant sound of 'A Saucerful of Secrets'coming from the top of the
house. Someone was burning incense. I crept down the stairs to the
ground floor. The living-room door was open. I peered round it into
the dimly lit room. The advertising men and their wives weFe sitting
up, cross-legged, straight-backed, eyes dosed, breathing regularly
nnd deeply. The Corduroy Suit was sitting in a chai with his back to
everyone, reang and smoking. Neither Eva nor Dad were in the
nrom. Where could they have gone?
I left the hypnotized Buddhas and went through the house and
lnto the kitchen. The back door was wide open. I stepped out into
lhc darkness. It was a warn eveninp the moon was full.
I got down on my knees. I knew this was the thing to do - I'd gone
highly intuitive since Dad's display. I crawled asoss the patio. They
must have had a barbecue out there recently, because razor-sharp
charcoal shards jabbed into my knees, but I reached the edge of the
lawn without serious iniury. I could see vaguely that at the end of
the lawn there was a garden benr. As I crawled clos r tlrere was
rnough moonlight for me to see that Eva wag on the bench. She was
pulling her kaftan up over her head. lf I etrained my eyes I could see
hcr chest. And I did strain; I strained until my eyeballs went dry in

their sockets. Eventually I knew I was right. Eva had only one

'I have to go to the bog!'

I lew down the attic ladder. In the Kays'bathroom there
were

breast. Where the other hationally was, there was nothing, so far
ns I could see.

Beneath all this hair and flesh, and virtually concealed fiom

t5

was my fa
aaoss the

crying out

bours,'oh
in

.Ti"ffi;

wonderec,
the suburban night air, to the wailing of Christian
curses from the mouth of a renegade Muslim masquerading as a

Buddhist?

Eva released her hand from his mouth. He started to laugh. The

h"ppy fucker laughed and laughed. It was the exhitara-tion of

someone I dn't know, fuil of greedy pleasure and self. It brought

me all the way down.

part of rny soul - tattooed his words on to my brain. Levi's, with an

open-necked shirt, rnaybe in a very modest pink or purple. I would
ncver go out in anything else for the rest of my life.
While I contemplated myself and my wardrobe with loathing, and
would willingly have urinated over every gannent, Charlie lay back
with his eyes closed and real sartorial understanding in his mind.
livcryone in the house but me was praically in heaven.
I laid my hand on Charlie's thigh. No response. I rested it there for
rr ew minutes until sweat broke out on the ends of my fingers. His
eyes remained closed, but in his jeans he was growing. I began to
lcel confident. I becarne insane. I dashed for his belt, for his fly, for
lris cock, and I took him out into the air to cool down. He made a

sign! He twitched himself! Through such human electricity we

understood each other.
I had squeezed many penises before, at school. We stroked and
rubbed and pinched each other all the time. lt broke up the
tnonotony of learning. But I had never kissed a rnan.

'Where

arie

you, Charlie?'

rried to kiss him. He avoided my lips by tuming his head to one

nide. But when he came in my hand it was, I swear, one of the preI

charlie was lying on his back on the attic floor. I took the joint

from him, removed my boots and lay down.

'Come and lie beside me,' he said. ,Closer., He put his hand on my
arm. '\ow, you're not to take this bay.,
'No, never, whatever it is, Charlie.,

1ou've got to wear less.'

1ear less, Charlie?'
'Dress less. Yes.'
He got up on to one elbow and concentrated on me. His mouth
was close. I sunbathed under his ace.
'Levi's, I suggest, with an open-necked shirt, maybe in pink or
purple, and a thick brown belt. Forget the headband.,
'Forget the headband?'
'Forget it.'
I ripped my headband off and tossed it across the floor.
'For your mum.'
'You see, Karim, you tend to look a bit like a pearly queen.,
I, who wanted only to be like Charlie a8 clever, as cool in every
16

cminent moments of my earlyish life. There was dancing in my

ltreets. My flags flew, my trumpets blew!
I was licking my fingers and thinking of where to buy a pink shirt
when I heard a sound that was not the Pink Floyd. I tumed and saw
across the attic Dad's flaming eyes, nose, neck and his famous chest
hoiking itself up through the square hole in the floor. Charlie swiftly
put himself away. I leapt up. Dad hurried over to me, followed by
nmiling Eva. Dad looked from Charlie to me and back again. Eva
nniffed the air.

'You naughty boys.'

'What, Eva?' Charlie said.
'Smoking home-grown.'
Eva said it was time for her to drive us home. We all climbed
backwards down the ladder. Dad, being the first, trod on my watch
at the bottom, trampling it to pieces and cutting his foot.
At the house we got out of the car and I said goodnight to Eva and
walked away. From the porch I could see Eva trying to kiss Dad,
while he was trying to shake her hand.
Our house was dark and cold as we crept in, exhausted. Dad harl
1.7

to get up at six-thirty and I had my paper-round at seven. In the hall

Dad raised his hand to slap me. He was drunker than I was stoned
and I grabbed the ungratefuI bastard.
.!{Ihat
the hell were you doirrg7
'Shut up!' I said, as quietly as I could.
'I saw you, Karim. My God, you're a bloody pure shitter! A bumbanger! My own son - how did it transpire?'
He was disappointed in me. He jumped up and down in anguish

as if he'd iust heard the whole house had been burned to the

ground. I didn't know what to do. So I started to imitate the voice

he'd used earlier with the adveisers and Eva.
'Relax, Dad. Relax your whole body from your fingers to your toes
and send your mind to a quiet garden where - ,
'I'll send you to a fucking doctor to have your balls examined!,
I had to stop him yellint before we had Mum out and the
neighbours round. t whispered, 'But I saw you, Dad.,
lou saw nothing,' he said, with utter contemPt. He could be very
arrogant. It must have been his upperdass background. But I had
him.
'At least my mum has two tits.'
Dad went into the toilet without shutting the door and started to
vomit. I went in behind him and rubbed his back as he threw up his
guts. 'I'll never mention tonight again,'I said. ,And nor will you.,
.\/hy
did you bring him home like this?, said Mum. She
stanng b hind us in her dressing-gown, which was so long

almost toured the loor, making her look squae. She was tired. S'
reminded me of the real world. I wanted to shout at her: Take
world away!
'Couldn't yorl have looked afterhim?, she said. She kept plucking
at my arm. 'I was looking out of the window and waiting for you for

hours. Why didn't you ring?'

Eventually Dad stood up straight and puehed right past us.
'Make up a bed for me in the front oom,, she said. ,I can,t sleep
next to that man stinking of sick and puking all night.'
When I'd made the bed and she,d got hergel into it and it was far
too narrow and short and uncomfortable for her _ I told her
something.
'l'll never be getting married, OK?'

I didn't think she'd get much sleep on that couch, and I felt sorry
Ior her. But she angered me, the way she punished herself. Why
eouldn't she be stronger? Why wouldn't she fight back? I would be
rtrong myself, I determined. That night I didn't go to bed but sat up
llstening to Radio Caroline. I'd glimpsed a world of excitement and

possibility which I wanted to hold in my mind and expand as a

tr.mplate for the future"
l;or a week after that evening Dad sulked and didn't speak, though

nometimes he pointed, as at salt and pepper' Sornetimes this

gcaticulation got him into some complicated Marcel Marceau mime
lnnguage. Visitors from other planets looking in through the
window would have thought we lvere Playrry a family guessing
Bame as my brother, Mum and I gathered around Dad yelling dues
Io cach other as he tried, without the compromise of friendly words,
to show us that the gutters had become blocked with leaves, that the
nlde of the house was getting damp and he wanted Allie and me to
climb up a ladder and fix it, with Mum holding the ladder. At supper
wr. sat eating our curled-up beefburgers, chips and fish fingers in
allence. Once Mum burst into tears and banged the table with the
flat of her hand. 'My life is terrible, terrible!' she cried. 'Doesn't
anyone understand?'
We looked at her in surprise for a moment, before carrying on
with our food. Mum did the washing-up as usual and no one helped
her. After tea we all dispersed as soon as possible. My brother Amar,
flrur years younge than me, called himself Allie to avoid racial
trouble. He always went to bed as early as he could, taking with him
nshion magazines |ike Vogue, Harpr's and Queen, and anything
liuropean he could lay his hands on. In bed he wore a tiny pair of red
rilk pyjamas, a smoking jacket he got at a jumble sale, and his hairrrct. 'What's wrong with looking good?' he'd say, going upstairs. In
the evenings I often went to the park to sit in the piss-stinking shed
nnd smoke with the other boys who'd escaped from home.
Dad had firm ideas about the division of labour between men and
women. Both my parents worked: Mum had got a job in a st oe shop
in the High Street to finance Allie, who had decided to become a
ballet dancer and had to to to an expensive private school. But

Mum

did all the housework and the cooking' At lunchtime she shopped'
nnd every evening she prepared the meal. After this she watched

television until ten-thirty. The

was her only area of absolute

She said,

'Ho, my sweet and naughty boy, where's your dad?

Why haven't you called me? What a1e you reading?'

'What do you 1Rcommeird, Eva?'
'You'd better come and see me, and I'll fill your head with purple
interfere with her. She'd e ot Stepte and Son, cltldid &mera and,
The Fugitiae .

If there were only repeats or political protrammes on TV, she

liked to draw. Her hand flew: she,d been to art school. She had

drawn us, otl heads, three to a Page, for years. Three selfish men,
she ced us. She said she'd never liked men because men we
tortulers. It wasn't women who turned on the gas at Auschwitz,
according to her. Or bomH Vietnam. During this time of Dad,s
silence she drew a lot, putting her pad away behind the rair, with
('Air-raid tonigh) and
ed to oppress her into
andThe Dlurma Bums,

One afternoon, a few days into the Great Sulk, I made myself a
peanut-butter sandwich, put the Who,s Litr at Izeds undlr the
Power

pad. I

until I

ldeas.'

'When can I come?'

'Don't even ask - just show.
I fetched Dad, who just happened to be standing behind the
bedroom door in his pyiamas. He snatched up the receiver. I
couldn't believe he was going to speak in his own house.
'Hallo,' he said grufly, as if unaccustomed bo using his voice.
'l]va, is good to talk to you, my love. But my voice has gone' I
;uspect bumps on the larynx. Can I ring you from the office?'
I went into my room, put the big brown radio on, waited for it to
waTn uP and thought about the matter.
Mum was drawing again that night.
The other thing that happened, the thing that made me realize
lhat 'God', as I now called Dad, was seriously scheming, was the
t;ueer sound I heard coming from his room as I was going up to bed.
I put my ear against the white paintwork of the door. Yes, God was
|nlking to himself, but not intimately. He was speakng slowly, in a
tleeper voice than usu, as i he were addressing a crowd' He was
hissing his s's and exaggerating his Indian accent. He'd'spent years
lrying to be more of an Englishman, to be less risibly conspicuous,
end now he was putting it back in spadeloads. Why?
One Saturday morning a few weeks later he called me to his room
end said mysteriously, 'Are you on for tonight?'

Tonight what, God?'

'l'm appearing,' he said, unable to reduce the pride in his voice.
'Really? Again?'

very keen to hcar rom her again.

'Yes, they've asked me. Public demand.'

'That's great. Where is it?'
'Location secet.' He patted his stomach happily' This was what
he really wanted to be doing now, app aring. They are looking
rlrward to me all over orpington. I will be more popular than Bob
I lope. But don't mention anything to your mother. She doesn't
understand my appearances at all, or even, for that matter, my
rlisappearances. Are we on?'

'We're on, Dad.'

'Good, good. Prepare.'

'Prepare what?'

CHAPTER TWO

He touched my face tently with the back of his hand. ,you,r

excited, eh?' I said nothing'

Yes,'I said, shyly.

lou like

all this getting-aboutbusiness.,

'nd I like having you with me, boy.

growing up together, we are.,

reservations. He wasn,t yet

love you very much. We,re

fuly entitled to the name. What

wanted to see was whether, as he started to blossom, Dad

really d
have anything to offer other people, or if he would tum
out to be
merely another suburban eccenfic.

l)od and Anwar lived next door to each other in Bombay and were
bcet fiends fom the age of five. Dad's father, the doctor, had built a
lovely low wooden house on fuhu beach for himself, his wife and his
twclve children. Dad and Anwar would sleep on the veranda and at
rlawn run down to the sea and swim. They went to school in a horse
drawn rickshaw. At weekends they played cricket, and after sctrool
lhere was tennis on the family court. The seryants would be balllxrys. The cricket matches were often against the British, and you
hnd to let them win. There were also constant riots and demon-

rlrntions and Hindu-Muslim fighting. You'd find your Hindu

lrtends and neighbours chanting obscenities outside your house.
'l'here were parties to go to, as Bombay was the home of the Indian

llm industry and one of Das elder brothers edited a movie

nragazine. Dad and Anwar loved to show off about all the film-stars
lhcy knew and the actresses the d kissed. Once, when I was seven
rlr cight, Dad told me he thought I should become an aor; it was a
gtxrd life, he said, and the proportion of work to money was highllut really he wanted me to be a doctor, and the subiect of acting was
rrever mentioned again. At school the careers officer said I should go

lnto Customs and Excise - obviously he thought I had a natural

talcnt for scrutinizing suitcases. And Mum wanted me to go into the
Nuvy, on the grounds, I think, that I liked wearing flared trousers.

Dad had had an idyllic childhood, and as he told me of his

I often wondered why he'd condemned his
own son to a dreary suburb of l.ondon of which it was said that
when people drowned they saw not their lives but their doubleatlventures with Anwar

gl.rzing flashing before them.

It was only later, when he came to England, that Dad realized how
rrrmplicated prairal lie could be. He'd never cooked before, never
washed up, never cleaned his own shoes or made a bed. Servants
rlid that. Dad told us that when he tried to remember the house in
lhrmbay he could never visualize the kitchen: he'd never been in it.
I lc remembered, though, that his favourite servant had been sacked
23

-F

These incidents had made Dad a sociarist, in so far as he

was ever a

socialist.

read or that they didn't necessarily want tutoring by an Indian on

the poetry of a pervert and a madman.
Fortunately, Anwar and Dad had somewhere to stay, at Dr Lal's, a
friend of Dad's father. Dr Ll was a monstrous Indian dentist who
claimed to be a friend of Bertrand Russell. At Cambridge during the

war, a lonely Russell advised Dr l-al that masturbation was the

answer to sexual frustration. Russell's great discovery was a revelation to Dr Lal, who daimed to have been happy ever after. Was his
]iberation one of Russells more striking atievements? For perhaps
lf Dr Lal hadn't been so fortfuight about sex with his two young and
rexually rapacious lodgers, my father wouldn't have met my mother
and I wouldn't be in love with Charlie.

Anwar was always plumper than Dad, with his poagy gut and
round face. No sentence was complete without the flavouring of a
few noxious words, and he loved the prostitutes who hung ancund
l{yde Park. They called him Baby Face. He was less suave, too, for as
oon as Dad's monthly allowance arrived from India, Dad visited

Bond Street to buy bow-ties, bottle-green waistcoats and tartan

nrrks, after which he'd have to borrow money from Baby Face.
Duti^g the day Anwar studied aeronautical engineering in North
London and Dad tried to glue his eyes to his law boolc. At night
they slept in Dr Lal's consulting room among the dental equipment,

dustmen, shopkeepers and barmen. Held never seen

an Engtish_
man stuffing bread into his mouth with his flngers,
and no or, h"d
told him the English didn't wash regularry because the
water was so
cold - if the'y hnd water at alr. And whenbad tried
to discuss Byron
in local pube no on<. worned him that not every Englishman

Anwar sleeping in the chair itsel. one night, enraged by the mice
running around him, by sexual fmstration too, and burning with the
ltching of his mothes woollen vests, Dad drcssed hfunself in Lal's
pale blue smock, picked up the most feocious drill and attacked
Anwar as he slept. Anwar screamed when he awoke to find the
uture guru of Clrislehurst coming at him with a dentiss dill. This
playfulness, this refusal to take anything seriously, as if life dn't
matter, characterized Dad's attitude to his strres. Dad iust couldn't
eoncentrate. He'd never worked before and it didn't suit him now.
Anwar started to say of Dad, 'Haroon is called to the Bar every day at twelve o'clock and five-thirty.'
Dad defended himself: 'I go to the pub to think.'
'No, not think- dink,'Anwar replied.
On Fridays and Saturdays they went to dances and smooched
blissfully to Glenn Miller and Count Basie and Louis ArmsEong.
'l'hat is where Dad first laid eyes and hands on a pretty working-clace
girl rom the suburbs called Margaret. My mother told me that ehe

?4

25

wrote a single letter.

London, the Old Kent Road, was
It

a freezing shock to both of them.

was wet and foggy; people called you ,sunnyfim,; there
was never

enough to eat, and Dad never took to dripping on toast. ,Nose

drippings more like,' he,d say, pushing awalthJstaple
diet of the
working class. 'I thought it would Lre roast beef and yorkshire
pudding all the way., But rationing was still on, and the
area was
derelict after being bombed to rubbre during the war.
Dad was
amazed and heartened by the sight of the British in
England,
though. He'd never seen the English in poverty, as.oadswepers,

could

)r-F-loved him, her little man, from the first moment

she saw him.
was sweet and kind and utterly lost-looking,
whir made women
attempt to make him found_looking.
There was a friend of Mum,s whom Baby Face
walked out

and apparently

with,

even walked in with, blt Anw"r was already

married, to leeta, a princess whose family came
on horseback to the
wedding held in the old British hin station of
Munee, in the north of,
Pakistan' feeta's brothers carried guns, which
made Anwar nen/ous
and want to head for England.
Soon Princess feeta joined Anwar in England,
and she became
Auntie feeta to me. Auntie feeta looked noth ng
[ke a princess, and I
mocked her because she couldn,t speak English
properly. She was
very shy and they lived in one dirbr room in
nrixton. Ii was no paLce
and it backed on to the railway line. One day
Anwar made ,"Ao,r,
in the betting shop and won a lot Lf money.
"
He bought
Tirol"
a
short lease on a toy shop in south London.
It was a miserable failure
until Princess feeta made him turn it into a groce/s
shop. They were
set up. Customers ftocked.
In contrast, Dad was going nowhere. His
family cut off his money
when they scovered from a sPy Dr Lal that
he was being caile
-

bath while he fetched a cup from which,

standing on the irther side
of the bathroom as if I had the plague, he threw
water at my legs
while holding his nose with his other hand.
I don't know how it all started, but
when I was ten or eleven he
tumed to Lieh Tzu, tao Tzu and Chuang Tzu
as if they,d never been
read before, as if they,d been writing exclusively
for him.

We continued to visit Baby Face and Princess leeta on Sunday

lternoons, the only time the shop dosed. Dad's friendship with
Anwar was still essentially

jokey one, a cricket-, boxing-, athletics-,

lennis-watching one. When Dad went there with a library copy of

'l'ha
Secret of thc Goklen Flurcr Anwar snatched it from him, held it up
rnd laughed.
'What's this bloody-fool thing you're Playrry with now?'
l)ad promptly started up with, 'Anwat, yaar,you don'trealize the
grrat secrets I'm uncovering! How happy I feel now I'm understandhrg life at last!'

Anwar intemrpted, stabbing at Dad with his roll-up. 'You bloody

('hinese fool. How are you reading rubbish when I'm making
mrlney! I've pd off my bastard mortgate!'
l)ad was so keen for Anwar to understand that his knees were
vlbrating. 'I don't care about money. There's ways money. I must
rrlrderstand these seoet things.'
Anwar raised his eyes to heaven and looked at Mum, who sat
lhere, bored. They both had sympathy for Dad, and loved him, but
ln these moods love was mixed with pity, as if he were making some
tragic mistake, like joining the fehovah's Witnesses. The more he
lalkcd of the Yin and Yang, cosmic consciousness, Chinese philoso
phy, and the following of the Way, the more lost Mum became. He
opemed to be drifting away into oute sPace, leaving her behind; she
wne a suburban woman, quiet and kind, and found lie with two
thlldren and Dad difficult enough as it was. There was at the same
llme a good chunk of pride in Dad's Oriental discoveries, which led
lrlm to denigrate Anwa/s lie.

'You're only interested in toilet rolls, sardine tins, sanitary pa.ds

lntl turnips,'he told Anwar. 'But there ae nany more things, yaar,
Irr heaven and earth, than you damn well dream of in Penge.'
'l haven't got time to dream!' intemrpted Anwar. 'Nor should you
ln dreaming. Wake up! What about getting some promotion so
Mrlrgaret can wear some nice clothes. You know what women are

lllc,

yaar.'

''l'he whites will never Promote us,' Dad said. 'Not an Inan
while there is a white man left on the earth. You don't have to deal
with them - they still think they have an Empire when they don't
lrovc two pennies to rub together.'
27

'They don't promote you because you

are lazy, Haroon. Bama
are growing on your balls. you think of
some China_thing and
the Queen!'

'To hell with the eueenl Look, Anwar,

don't you ever eel

want to know yourself? That you are an enigma

to

completely?'
'I don't interest anyone else, why
should I interest myself?,
Anwar. 'Get on with living!'

01
on these arguments went, above Anwar and
1nd
feeta,s
until they became so absorbed and hostile that
their

famila, and I could sneak away and play cricket with

and a tennis ball in the garden.

'l don't know.'

'Use the brains you've inherited from me, you bastard!'he said,

dau
broom

llrlvering. 'It's bloody cold and we're late.'

'lt's your fault you're cold, Dad,' I said.

'My fault?'

Beneath all the Cfunese bluster was Dad,s

loneliness and

for internal advancement. He needed to

talk about the China.
he was learning. I often walked to the

commuter station with him

the morning, where he caught the eight-thirty-five
to Victoria. (
these twenty-minute walks he was jJned
by other people, usui

women' secretaries, clerks and assstants, who

also worked
Central London. He wanted to talk of obtaining
a quiet mind,

being true to yourself, of self-understanding.

I heard ihem spe"k
ther lives, boyfriends, agitated minds and
e selves in a iay,l,
sure, they never talked to anyone else. They

didn,t errer, notice

and the transistor radio I carried, listening to

the Tony Blackb

Show on Radio One. The more Dad didn,t

try to seduce them,
more he seduced them; often they didn.t leave
their houses until
was walking by. If he took a different route
for fear of having stoned
and ice_pops fuIl of piss lobbed at him by
schoolboys om the
secondary modern, they changed their routl
too. on the train De
would read his mystical books or concentrate
on the tip of his nose,
,

large target indeed. And he always carried

a tiny blue dii
with him, the size of a matchbox, making sure
to learn a new
every day. At the weekends I,d test him on the
meaning of analeptic
frutescent, polycephalus and orgulous. Fle,d
look at-me
,"y

'You

never know when you might need a heavyweight "rra

word
impress an Englishman.,
It wasn't until he rnet Eva that he had
somcone to share his China_
things with, and it surprised him that such
mutual interest was

possible.

zg

Now, I presumed, on this Saturday night, God was going to meet

He gave me the address on a piece of paper and we
r'nught a bus, this time towards what I considered to be the country.
It was dark and icy when we got off in Chislehurst. I led Dad first
oRc way and then, speaking with authority, in the opposite
rllrcction. He was so keen to get there he didn't complain for twenty
lnlnutes; but at last he became poisonous.
'Where are we, idiot?'
l{va again.

It was indeed his fault, for under his car coat my father was
wr.aring what looked like a large pair of pfamas. On top was a long
rllk shirt embroidered around the neck with dragons. This fell over
lria ehest and flew out at his stomach for a couple of miles before
rlnrpping down to his knees. Under this he had on b"ggy trousers
rtrd sandals. But the real crime, the reason for concement under
ilre hairy car coat, was the crimson waistcoat with gold and silver
llllt'rns that he wore over the shirt. If Mum had caught him going
lrrt like that she would have called the police. After all, God was a
('lvil Servant, he had a briefcase and umbrella, he shouldn't be
wnlking around looking like a midget toreador.
'l'hc houses in Chislehurst had greenhouses, grand oaks and
rprinklers on the lawn; men came in to do the garden. It was so
ltlt1rrt,ssive for people like us that when our amilies walked these
ilrr.r'ts on Sunday visits to Auntie fean we'd treat it as a lowerrrrkldlc-class equivalent of the theatre. 'Ahhh' and 'oohh', we'd go,
Inrrrliining we lived there, what times we'd have, and how we'd
rlet'orate the place and organize the garden for cricket, badminton
rlrrl table tennis. Once I remember Mum looking reproachfully at
I )nrl, as if to say: What husband are you to give me so little when the
ullrr.r men, the Alans and Barrys and Peters and Roys, provide cars,
Irrrrst's, holidays, central heating and iewellery? They can at least
|ul rrp shelves or fix the fence. What can you do? And Mum would
elrunble into a pothole, just as we were doing now, since the roads
wln'dcliberately left comrgated with stones and pits, to discourage
rrr,lrrrary people from driving up and down.

O:

*":-nched

up the drive at last_ with a pause for

,.
God to
his thumbs together and do a few minutes,
trance practice _ God
me that the house was owned by Carl
and Marianne, friends of I

w-ho'd recently been trekking i.,

nai". This was immedia
obvious from the sandalwood uddhas,
brass ashtrays and stri

ilJ;;

Jl*

d ecTa tej
u,,"il"bre space.
tr::j::
",,ury
fact
that Carl and Marianne stood barefoot
at
the palms of their hands together
in prayer and their heads bowed
as
if they were temple servants and not

::*::,j

th;il;;;ilJ;

prtners in the local TV rental

firm of Rumbold & Toedrip.

krng garden and its goldfish pond glowing under purple light, was a
trar. Not many people were drinking on this big spiritual occasion,

hut I could easily have put back a couple of pints. It wouldn,t have

lurked too good, though, even I knew that. Marianne's daughter

and an older girl in tight hotpants were senring lassi and hot Inan
nibbles, guaranteed, I knew, to make you fart like a geriatric on Allbran. I foined th" gi.l in hotpants behind the bar and found out her

nme was Helen and she was at the high school.

'Your father looks like a magician,' she said. She smiled at me and
kxrk two quick sidesteps into the circle of my privacy so she was
heride me. Her sudden presence surprised and aroused me. It was
rtnly a minor surprise on the Richter surprise scale, a number three
rnd a half, say, but it registered. At that moment my eyes were on

Dd he look like a magician, a wonder-maker?

lle was certainly exotic, probably the only man in

(irxl.

And for your dad, this., She gave

Confucius, translated Uy erinur
him. Is he OK?,
She glanced

around the room, which contained

about twenty
people.
'They're a symptheticlot. Pretty
sfupid' I can't see he,ll have any
problems' My dream is to get ni to
meet with more .".poi"i*r
people _ in London. I'm detrmined
to get all of ,r, to Lor,d;;i;

said. 'Now, Iet me introd

"i;

Ater shaking a few hand

a shiny brack ;fa, ;y feet

bly seftled on

row of far books h"r,dtoot"a in plasric _

abridged
illushations) o Vanity Fair and ri*
"":T"::"ilii
womor_in White.Infront
of me
was what seemed ,o
illuminated poro.lpine _ some kind
T
of
clear bulb with hundreds "rr.
of different colurea waving quills
which

object, l,m sure,

::.::::_T
appreciated ll.1.:.l".:1_.:"
with the aid of hallucinogenics.

designed to be

f heard Carl say, ,There are trvo sorts

o.*f pe'ple in the world _
thirse
who have been to India and those
who t uuo'n,t,, and was forced to

get up and move out of earshot.

Beside the double-glazed french

windows, with their view of the
10

southem

lngland at that moment (aPart, possibly, from George Harrison)

wearing a red and gold waistcoat and Indian pyiamas. He was also
graceful, a front-room Nureyev beside the other pasty-faced
Arbuckles with the tight dripdry shirts glued to their guts and
lohn Collier grey trousers with the crotch all sagging and creased.
|'erhaps Daddio really was a magician, having transomted himself
hy the bootlaces (as he put it) from being an lnan in the Gvil
$r.rvice who was always cleaning his teeth with Monkey Brand black
Irrrthpowder manufactured by Nogi & Co. of Bombay, into the wise
adviser he now appeared to be. Sexy Sadie! Now he was the centre
llf the room. If they could see him in Whitehl!
l{e was talking to Eva, and she had casuallyfaid her hand on his
arm. The gesture cried out. Yes, it shouted, we are together, we
kruch each other without inhibition in front of strangers. Confused,
I tumed away, to the matter of Helen.
'Well?' she said gently.
She desired me.
I knew this because I had evolved a cast-iron method of determinlng desire. The method said she desed me because I had no interest
Irr her. Whenever I did find someone attractive it was guaranteed by
lhr'cormpt laws which govern the universe that the person would
Ittd me repellent, or just too small. This law also guaranteed that
when I was with someone like Helen, whom I didn,t desire, the
r lr.rnces were they would look at me as she was looking at me now,
,'t

Vwith a wicked smile and an interest in squeezing my mickey, the

thing I wanted most in the world from others, provided I found
them attractive, which in her case I didn't.
My father, the great sage, from whose lips instruction fell like rain
in Seattle, had never spoken to me about sex. When, to test his

liberalism, I demanded he tell me the facts of life (which the school

had already informed me o though I continued to get the words
uterus, scrotum and vulva mixed up), he murmured only, ,you can
always tell when a lvoman is ready or sex. oh yes. Her ears get
hot.'
I looked keenly at Helen's ears. I even reached out and pinched
one of them lightly, for scientific confirmation. Warmish!
Oh, Char[e. My heart yearned for his hot ears against my chest.
But he had neither phoned since our last love-making nor bothered
to furn up here. He'd been away from school, too, cutting a demo
tape with his band. The pain of being without the bastard, the cold
turkey I was enduring, was alleviated only by the thought that he
would seek more wisdom from my father tonight. But so far there
was no sign of him.
Eva and Marianne were starting to organize the room. The candle
industry was stimulated, Venctian blinds were lowered, Indian
sandalwood stinkers were ignited and put in flowerpots, and a small
carpet was put down for the Buddha of suburbia to fly on. Eva
bowed to him and handed him a daffodil. God smiled at people
recogriized from last time. He seemed confident and calm, easier
than before, doing less and allowing the admirers to illuminate him
with the resPect that Eva must have been encouratng in her
friends.
Then Uncle Ted and Auntie fean walked in.

12

CHAPTER THREE

- two normal unhappy alcoholics, her in pink high

heels, him in a double-breasted suit, dressed for a wedding, almost
innocently walkng into a party. They wee Mum's tall sister |ean
and her husband, Ted, who had a central heating business called
Peter/s Heaters. And they were clapped in the eyeballs by their
brother-in-law, known as Harryr, lowering himself into a yogic
trance in front of thei neighbours. |ean fought for words, perhaps
the only thing she had ever fought for. Eva's finger went to her lips.
fean's mouth closed slowly, like Tower Bridge. Ted's eyes scoured
the room for a clue that would explain what was going on. He saw
me and I nodded at him. He was disconcerted, but not angry, unlike
There they were

Auntie )ean.
'What's Harry doing?' he mouthed.

Ted and fean never called Dad by his Indian name, Haroon Amir.
He was always 'Harry'to them, and they spoke of him as Harry to
other people. It was bad enough his being an Indian in the first
place, without having an awkward name too. They'd called Dad
Harry from the first time they'd met him, and there was nothing Dad
could do about it. So he called them 'Gin and Tonic'.
Uncle Ted and I were great mates. Sometimes he took me on
central heating jobs with him. I got paid for doing the heavy work.
We ate comed-beef sandwiches and drank tea from our thermos
flask. He gave me sporting tips and took me to the Catford dog rack
and Epsom Downs. He talked to me about pigeon racing. Ever since
I was tiny I'd loved Uncle Ted, because he knc'w about the things
other boys' fathers knew about, and Dad, to my frustration, didn't:
fishing and air rifles, eroplanes, and how ttl eat winkles.
My mind was rapidly working as I tried to sort out how it was that
Ted and fean had turned up here, like characters from an Ealing
Comedy walking into an Antonioni film. They were from Chislehtrrst too, but worlds away from Carl and Marianne. I concentrated
until things started to get clear in my mind. How had all this
I began to see. What I saw didn't cheer me.
- happened?
3)

tPoor Mum must have fallen into such unhappiness that she,d
spilled out Dad's original guru exploit in Beckenham to her sister.
Jean would have been apopleptic with outrage at her siste/s

weakness in allowing it to happen. fean would have hated Mum for

it.
When God had announced - or, rather, got me to announce,
iust a
ew hours before - that he was making a comeback as a visionary,
Mum would have rung her young sister. fean would have tautened,
turning into the steely scheming knife she really was. Into action she
went. She must have told Mum she knew Carl and Marianne. Their

radiators had perhaps been installed by pete/s Heaters. And Ted

and fean d live in a newish house nearby. That would be the only
way a couple like Carl and Marianne would know Ted and fean.
Otherwise Carl and Marianne, with their books and records and
trips to India, with their'culture,, would be anathema to Ted and
fean, who measured people only in terms of power and money. The
rest was showing off, an attempt to pull a fast one. For Ted and
fean,
Tommy Steele - whose parents lived round the corner- was culture,
entertainment, show business.
Meanwhile, Eva had no idea who Ted and fean were. She
iust
waved irritably at these late and oddly respectable intruders.

'Sit down, sit down,' she hissed.

Ted and fean looked at each other as if they'd been asked to
swallow matchsticks.
'Yes, you,' Eva added. She could be sharp, old Eva.

There was no choice. Ted andfean slid slowly to the floor. It must
have been years since Auntie lean had been anywhere near the
ground, except when she fell over drunk. They certainly couldn,t
have expected the evening to be this devout, with everyone sitting
admiringly around Dad. We would be in big trouble later, no doubt
about that.
God was about to start. Helen went and sat down with the others
on the floor. I stood behind the bar and watched. Dad looked over
the crowd and smiled, until he discovered himself smiling at Ted
and fean. His expression didn't change for a moment.
Despite calling Ted and fean Gin and Tonic, he didn,t tlislikc Jean
and he did like Ted, who liked him in retum. Ted oftcn discusst d his
'little personal difficulties' with Dad, for although it was p<,rplt xing
for Ted that Dad had no money, Ted sensed that Dad un<.lerstoo
)4

life, that Dad was wise. So Ted told Dad about fean's heavy

drinking, or her affair with a young local councillor, or how his life
was beginning to seen futile, or how unsatisied he felt.
Whenever they had these trrth sessions Dad took care to take

advantage of Ted. 'He can talk and work at the same time, ean't he?'
said Dad as Ted, sometirnes in tears, inserted rawl-plugs into brick
as he made a shelf for Dad's Oriental books, or sanded a door, or

tiled the bathroom in exchange for Dad listening to him from an

aluminium garden chair" 'Don't commit suicide until you've
finished that floor, Ted,' he'd saY.
Tonight Dad dn't linger over Gin and Tonic. The room was still
and silent. Dad went into a silence too, looking straight ahead of
him. At first it was a little silence. But on and on it went, becorning a
big silence: nothing was followed by nothing, which was followed

quite soon by more nothing as he sat there, his eyes fixed but full of

care.

My head started to sweat' Bubbles of laughter rose in my

I wondered i he were going to con them and sit there for an

hour in silence (perhaps iust popping out one mystical phrase such
as, 'Dried excrement sits on the pigeon's head") before putting his
car coat on and tramping off back to his wie, having brought the
Chislehurst bourgeoisie to an exquisite understanding of their inner
emptiness. Would he dare?
At last he started out on his rap, accompanying it this time with a
rattling orchestra'of hissing, pausing and gazing at the audience'
And he hissed and paused and gazed at the auence so quietly the
poor bastards had to lean forward to hear. But there was no slackinp
their ears were oPen.
'In our offices and places of work we love to tell others what to do.
We denigrate them. We comPare their work unavourably with our
own. We are always in competition. We show off and gossip. Our
dream is of being well treated and we dream of treating others

throat.

bay. . .'

Behind Dad the door slowly opened. A couple stood there - a tall
young man with short, spiky hair dyed white- He wore silver shoes
and a shiny silver iacket. He looked like a spaceman. The girl with
him was dowdy in comparison. She was about seventeen, wearing a
long hippie smock, a skirt that trailed to the ground, and hair to her
waist. The door closed and they were Sone; no one was disturbed.
Everyone listened to Dad, apart from Jean, who tossed her hair
35

V
about as if to keep him away. When she glanced at Ted for a sign o

support she received none: he was absorbed too.

Like a stage-manager pleased that his production is going well
and knowing there is no more to be done, I slipped out of theroom

through the french windows. The last words

find an entirely new way of being alive.,

heard were, ,We must

were some camellias in an art nouveau vase, and I found myseU

staring at them in wonderrnent. Dad's repose and concenbation had
helped me find a new and surprising appreciation of the Eees in the

patchouli, twice pulling a strand of hair out of her eyes while he

went on:
'The serpent is shut out from Paradise.
The wounded deer must seek the herb no more
In which its heart-cure lies . . .'

The girl, bored to death, became more lively and nudged him
when she saw me, always the voyeur, peeping at them.
'Sorryi I said, turningaway.
'Karim, why are you ignoring me?'
I could see now it was Charlie.
'I'm not. I mean, I don't want to. Why hav you gone silver?'
"To have rnore fun.'
'Charlie, I haven't seen you for ages. What have you been doing?
I've been worried and everything, atrout you.'
'No reason to vorry, little one. I've been preparing for the rest of
my life. And everything.'
This fascinated me.
'Yeah? What kind of thing is the rest of your life going to be? D'you

And the voice was speaking po try to me as I stood there, in Carl

and Marianne's ha[l. Every word was stinct, because my mind was
so empty, so dear. It went:

"Tis

true, 'tis day; what though it be?

thou therefore rise rom me?
Why should we rise? because ,tis light?
Did we [e downe, trecause ,twas night?
Love which in spight of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despight of light keepe us together.,

o wilt

It was a rich, male voice, which came, not from above me, as I first
thought - I was not being directly addressed by an angel _ but from
one side. I followed it until I came to a conservatory whcre I could
see the boy with the silver hair sitting with the girl on a swing seat.

He was talking to her

no, he was reading to her, f.rnr a small

leather-bound book he held in one hand - an<J leaning inkr hcr face,
as if to press the words into her. She sat impassively, smelling of
36

know already?'
'When I look into the future I see three things. Success. Success - '
'And success,' the girl added, weay.
'I hope so,' I said. 'Right on, man.'
The girl looked at me wryly. 'Little one,' she giggled. Then she
nuzzled her lips in his ear. 'Charlie, can't you read to me some
more?'
So Charlie started up again, reading to both of us, but I didn't feel
too good by now. To be honest, I felt a fool. I needed a fast dose of
God's head-medicine right now, but I didn't want to leave Charlie.
Why had he gone silver? Were we entering a new hair era that I'd
completely failed to notice?
I forced rnyself back into the living room. Dad's gi6 consisted of
half an hous sibilant instruction plus questions, half an hous yoga
and some meditation. At the end, when everyone had got up and
they were chatting sleepily, Auntie fean said hallo, pretty curtly. I
could see she wanted to leave, but at the same time she had her eyes
fixed on a relieved and smiling Dad at the other side of the room. He
had Eva beside him, and several people wanted more information

,f,
about his teaching. Two of them asked i he,d go to their house and

hold sessions there. Eva had become proprietorial, leading him

away from bores while he nodded regally.

Before I left, Helen and I exchanged addresses and phone
numbers. Charlie and the girl were arguing in the hall. Charlie

wanted to take her home but she insisted on going her own way, the
little fool. 'But why don't you want me?' he said. l really want you. I

love you now.'

What was he being so uncool for? Yet I wondered if, when the day
came that I wanted someone and they dn,t want me, I,d be able to
remain indifferent. I snorted in derision in his direction and waited
outside for Dad and Eva.

So there it was. Helen loved me futilelp and I loved Charlie

futilely, and he loved Miss Patchouli futilely, and no doubt she loved
some other fucker futilely. The only unfutilely loving couple were
God and Eva. I had a bad time just sitting in the car with them, with
Eva putting her arms around Dad everywhere. Dad had to raise one
authoritative finger to wam her away - which she bit. And I sat there
like a good son, pretending not to exist.
Was Dad really in love with Eva? It was dificult for me to accePt
that he was, our world seemed so immutable. But hadn,t he gone
public? At the end of the gig he had given Eva a smacking kiss that
sounded as if he were sucking an orange, and he,d told her he could
never had done it without her. And she'd had her hand in his hair
while Carl and Marianne wene in their hands-together praying
position, and Ted and fean just stood there watching, in their stupid
coats, like under-cover police. What was wront with Dad?

was the nosiest person I'd ever met. I'd be there

sure.

that I knew for

So the next morning I cleaned my bike and was soon bumping

along the unmade roads, following the route Dad and I had taken
the previous evening. I rode slowly and watched the men hoovering, hosepiping, washing, polishing, shining, scraping, repainting,
discussing and admiring their cars. It was a lovely day but their
routine never changed. Women called out that dinner was on the
table. People in hats and suits were coming back from church and
they carried Bibles. The kids had clean faces and combed hair.
I wasn't quite ready to be brought down by Ted and fean, so I
decided to drop in and see Helen, who lived nearby. Earlier that
morning I'd popped into Dad's room and whipped one of his dusty
Durex Fetherlites - just in case.
Helen lived in a big old place set back from the road. Everyone I
knew, Charlie and the rest, seemed to live in big places, except for
us. No wonder I had an inferiority complex. But Helen's place
hadn't been painted in aeons. The bushes and flowerbeds were
overgown, there were dandelions coming out of the path. The shed
had half collapsed. Uncle Ted would have said it was a crying
shame.
I parked the bike outside, chaining it to the fence. When I tried to
open the gate I discovered it was jammed. I couldn't fiddle abou! I

climbed over. In the porch I pulled the bell and heard it ring
somewhere deep in the house. It was spooky, I can tell you. There
vas no reply, so I strolled around the side.
'Karim, Karim,' Helen said quickly, in an anxious voice, from a
window above my head.
'Hiya,' I called. 'I just wanted to see you.'
'Me too, yeah?'
I got irritated. I always wanted everything to happen immediately. 'What's wrong, then? Can't you come out? What's this fuliet

'Come here.'
She shoved the phone at me and I heard tean say just one thing.
'Come and see us tomorrow. Without fail. Do you understand?,
She always shouted at you, as if you were stupid. Fuck you, I
thought. I didn't want to 8o near her in that mtlcrd. But, o c<lurse, I

At this her head seemed to have been ierked back into the house.
There was some muffled arguing - a man's voice - and the window
banged down. Then the curtains were drawn.
'Helen, Helen!'I called, suddenly feeling quite attached to her.
The front door opened. Helen's dad stood there. He was a big
man with a black beard and thick arms. I imagined that he had hairy

38

)9

Mum was waiting for us in the hall, her ace partly fudden in the

telephone. She was saying little, but I could hear the tinny sound of
fean on the other end. No time had been wasted. Dad scarpered into

his room. I was about to run upstairs when Mum said, ,Wait
minute, smart-arse, someone

'who?,

r^/ants

to talk to you.,

business you're doing?'

shoulders and, worst of all, a hairy back, like Peter Sellers and Sean
(I kept a list of aors with hairy backs which I constantly
updated.) And then I went white, but obviously not white enouth,
because Hairy Back let go of the dog he was holng, a Great fucking
Dane, and it padded interestedly towards me, its mouth hanging
open like a cave. It looked as though a jagged wedge had been
ripped from the lump of its head to form its yellow-toothed, stringspittled mouth. I put my arms out in front of me so the dog wouldn,t
.ip my hands off. I must have looked like a sleepwalker, but as I
-wanted myhands orotherpurposes I didn't care about this Baroque
pose, though as a rule I cared fanatically about the way I looked, and

Connery.

behaved as

i the entire world had nothing better to do

than

constantly observe me for slips in a very complicated and private

etiquette.

'You can't see my daughter againi said Hairy Back. ,She doesn,t
Bo out with boys. Or with wogs.'
'Oh well.'
'Got it?'
'Yeah,' I said sullenly.
'We don't want you blackies coming to the house.'
'Have there been many?'
'Many what, you little coon?'
'Blackies.'
'Where?'
'Coming to the house.'
'We don't like it,' Hairy Back said. 'However many niggers there
are, we don't like it. We're with Enoch. If you put one of your black
'ands nearmy daughterl'll smash itwith a'ammer! With a,ammer!,
Hairy Back slammed the front door. I took a couple of steps back
and tumed to go. Fucking Hairy Back. I badly wanted to piss. I
looked at his car, a big Rover. I decided to let his tyres down. I could

would open the window and call my name, and call the dog's name
too. 'Oh, Helen, Helen,'I murmured.
My soft words obviously affected the dog, for suddenly there was
a flurry and I felt something odd on my shoulders. Yes, it was the
dog's paws. The dog's breath warmed my neck. I took another step
and so did the dog. I knew by now what the dog was up to. The dog
was in love with me - quick movements against my arse told me so.
Its ears were hot. I dn't think the dog would bite me, as its
movements were increasing, so I decided to run for it. The dog
shuddered against me.
I flew to the gate and climbed over, catching my pink shirt on a
nail as I iumped. Safely over, I picked up some stones and let the dog
have a couple of shots. One cracked off its nut but it didn't seem
bothered. As I climbed on to my bike I took off my iacket and
discovered dog jissom.
I was fucking bad-tempered when I finally pedalled up Iean's
front path. And fean always made everyone take off their shoes at
the front door in case you obliterated the carpet by walking over it
twice. Dad said, when we went in once, 'What is this, fean, a Hindu

temple? Is

it the

shoeless meeting the legless?' They wele so

do it in a few seconds, piss in the window, and if he came out I'd be

over the fence quicker than a cat through a window. I was moving
towards the Rover when I realized that Hairy Back had left me alone
with the dog, which was sniing at turds only a few yards away. It
started to move. I stood there pretending to be a stone or a tree until,
grngerly, I turned my back on the dog and took a couple of steps, as
if I were tip-toeing acoss a dangerous roof' I was hoping Helen

fastidious about any new purchase that their three-year-old car still
had plastic over the seats. Dad loved to turn to me and say, 'Aren't
we just in clover in this car, Karim?' He really made me laugh, Dad.
That morning when I set off I'd been determined to be suave and
dismissive, a real Dick Dver, but with dog spunk up the back of my
tonic iacket, no shoes, and dying for a piss, I found the Fitzgerald
front an effort. And lean led me straight into the living room, sat me
down by the innovative method of pressing on my shoulders, and
went out to find Ted.
I went to the window and looked out over the garden. Here, in the
summer, in the heyday of Pete/s Heaters, Ted and fean had
magnificent parties, or'do's, as Ted called them. My brother Allie,
Ted and I would put up a big marquee on the lawn and wait
breathlessly for the arrival of all South London and Kent society. The
most important builders, bank managers, accountants, local politicians and businessmen came with their wives and tarts. Allie and I
loved running among this reeking mob, the air thick with aftershave
and perfume. We served cocktails and offered sbawberries and
cream and gteaux, and cheese and chocolates, and sometimes, in

40

47

exchante, rvomen pinred our cheeks, and we tried to stick our

hands up their daughters' skirts.
Mum and Dad always felt out of place and paEonized on these
grand occasions, where lives were measured by money. They were
of no use to anyone and there was nothing they sought from any of
the guests. Somehow they always seemed to wear the wrongclothes
and look slightly shabby. After a gallon of pimns Dad usually tried
to scrrss the re meaning of materialism, and how it was thought
that we lived in a materistic age. The Euth was, he said, we dn t
genuinely appr,eciate the value of invidu objects, or their particular beauty. It was greed our materialism celebrated, greed and
status, not the being and texture of things. These thoughts wele not
welcomed at fean's parties, and my mother would covertly mouth
and lap at Dad to shut up: he became rapiy depressed. Mum,s
ambition was tobe unnoticed, tobe like everyone else, whereas Dad
liked bo stand out like a jr'8er at a funer.
Ted and fean were a little king and qu en in those days rich,
powerful, inluential. fean excelled in the business of introduions,
both business and romantic. She was a local monitor of love,
mediating in numerous affairs, waming, advising, cajoling and
shoring up certain marriages while ripping unsuitable liaisons to
shrede. She knew what wae happening eveDrwhere, on account
sheets and under bed-sheets.
fean ceemed invulnerable until she pursued and started an affair
with a pallid twenty-eight-yearold Tory councillor from an old and
well-legarded mide_class Sevenoaks family' He was a virfual
virgin, naive and inexperienced, and with bad skin, but she was far
outdassed. Oh yes, his parents stomped on it within six months and
he never saw her again. She mourned for two years, Ted day by day
seeming the more wretched in comparison with her long-gone Tory
boy. The parties stopped and the people went away.
Now Auntie fean came into the room with Uncle Ted. He was a
bom coward, and nenrous as hell. He was shit-scared of confrontations or alguments of any kind.
'Hallo, Uncle Ted.'
'Ho, son,'he said miserably.
Auntie fean started up right away. 'Listen, Karim - '
'Hors football?' I asked, overriding her and smiling at Ted.
'What?' he asked, shaking his head.

'Spurs doing well, aren't they?'

He looked at me as if I were mad. Auntie fean had no idea what
was going on. I clarified. 'About time, isn't it, that we went to
another match, eh, Uncle Ted?'
Ordinary words indeed, but they did the trick $'ith Uncle Ted. He
had to sit down. I knew that after I mentioned football he would at
least be neutral in this dispute about Dad, if not entirely on my side. I
knew this because I had some serious shit on Ted that he would not
want Auntie fean to hear, just as I had the garden bench incident

locked in my mind against Daddio.

I began to feel better.

This is the dirt.

At one time I really wanted to be the fust Indian centre-forward to
play for England and the school sent me for trials with Millwall and
Crystal Palace. Spurs were our team, though, and as their ground
was far away in North London, Ted and I didn't get to see them
often. But when they were at home to Chelsea I persuaded Ted to
take me. Mum tried to stop me going, convinced that the Shed boys
would ensure me a sharpened penny in the skull. Not that I was too
crazy about live matches. You stood there in the cold with icicles on
your balls, and when someone was about to score the entire pound
leapt in the air and all you could see were woolly hats.
The train took Ted and me and our sandwiches up through the
suburbs and into London. This was the iourney Dad made every
day, bringing keema and roti and pea curry wrapped in greasy paper
in his briefcase. Before crossing the river we passed over the 'slums
of Herne Hill and Brixton, places so compelling and unlike anything
I was used to seeing that I jumped up, jammed down the window
and gazed out at the rows of disintegrating Victorian houses. The
gardens were full of rusting junk and sodden overcoats; lines of
washing criss-crossed over the debris. Ted explained to me, 'That's
where the niggers live. Them blacks.'
On the way back from the match we were squashed into the
comer of the carriage with dozens of other Spurs fans in black and
white scarves. I had a football rattle I'd made at school. Spurs had
won.'Tottenham, Tottenham!' we chanted.
The next time l looked at Ted he had a knie in his hand. He
jumped on to his seat and smashed the lightbulbs in the carriage.
Glass flew into my hair. We all watched as Ted carefully unscrewed
4)

the mirrors from the caniage partitions - as if he were removing a

raator - and lobbed them out of the rain. Awe moved around the
carriage to make way for him - no one ioined in - Ted stabbed the

seats and tore the stuffing out of them. Finally he thmst an

unbroken lightbulb at me and pointed at the open window.
'Go on, enioy yerself, is Safurday.'
I got up and flung the lightbulb as far as I could, not realizing we
were drawing into Penge Station. The lightbulb smashed against a
wall where an old Inan man was sitting. The man gied out, got up
and hobbled away. The boys in the Eain iee d racist bad-mouth at
him. When Ted brought me home Mum pointed at me and asked
Ted if d behaved myself.
Now Auntie fean fixed the full searrlight of her eyes on me.

'We've always quite liked your dad, and we never had no

obiections to him marrying Margaret, though some people dn't

like her marrying a coloured -'
'Auntie fean - '
'Duck, don't intemrpt. Your mum's told me all about what a caper
your dad's been leading over in Beckenham. He's been impersonat-

ingaBuddhirt-'

'He le a Buddhist.'
'And carrying on with that mad woman, who everyone knows becauoe ohe'a told them - is disfigured.'
'DlaIgured, Auntie lean?'
'And yesterday, well, we couldn't believe our eyes, could we,

said, and tumed to Unde Ted, who was holding a cushion over his
face. 'What are you doing, Ted?'
I asked as innocently as I could, 'How will Dad's behaviour affe
your livelihood, Auntie lean?'
Auntie lean scratched her nose. Your mum can't take no moe,'
she said. 'It's your iob to stop the rot right now. If you do that
nothing more will be said. God's honour.'
' 'Cept at Christmas,' added Ted. He loved to say the wrong thing
at the wrong time, as if some self-respect came from rebellion.
fean got up and walked across the carpet in her high heels. She
opened a window and sniffed the fresh garden air. This tonic turned
her thoughts to Royty.
'An-yway, your dad's a Civil Servant. What would the Queen say
if she knew what he was up to?'

'Which queen?' I murmured to myself. Aloud I said, 'I don't

answer rhetorical questions,' and got up and went to the door. As I

stood there I realized I was trembling. But |ean smiled at me as i d

agreed with everything she said.
'There's a good boy, duck. Now give me a kiss. And whas that
mess on the back of your coat?'
I heard nothing more from either Gin or Tonic for a few weeks, and
during that time I didn't run to Dad and urge him, on ny knees, to
give up the Buddha business just because }ean dn't like it.
As for Eva, there was no word from her. I began to think the whole

Ted. Ted!'
Ted nodded to indicate that he couldn't believe his eyes.
' 'Course, we presume this madness is going to stop right now.,
She sat back and waited for my reply. I tell you, Auntie fean really
knew how to give you frightening looks, so much so that I found
myself struggling to suppress a fart that needed to be free. I crossed
my legs and pressed down into the sofa as hard as I could. But it was
no use. The naughty fart bubbled gaily out o me. Within seconds
the rank gas had risen and was wafting towards Auntie fean, who
was still waiting for me to speak.
'Don't ask me, Auntie fean. It's none of our business, what Dad
does, is it?'
'I'm afraid it's not just his bloody business, is it? It affects all of us!
They'll think we're all bloody baomy. Think of Peter/s Heaters!, she

affair was over, and I rather regretted this, as our life refurned to dull
normalcy. But one evening the phone rang and Mum answered it.
She immediately replaced the receiver. Dad was standing at the door
of his room. 'Who was it?' he asked.

44

45

'No one,'said Mum, with a deiant look.

The garden's blooming.'

Ted stepped over the threshold and sang, There'll be blue birds
over, the white cliffs o Dover.'He asked, 'Hor s yer old dad?'
Tollowing uP on orrr little scussion, eh?'
'I(eep that to yersel as previously agred,'he said, striding past

CHAPTER FOUR

me.
It was clear in other ways that Eva wasn't going to leave our lives
now. She was present when Dad was withdrawn and preoccupied every night, in fact; she was there when Mum and Dad watched
Panorama together; she was there when he heard a sad record or
anyone mentioned love' And no one was happy. I had no idea i Dad
was meeting Eva on the sly. How could that have been possible? Life
for commuters was regulated to the minute; i trains were delayed or

' 'Bout time we went

to another football match, Unde Ted, isn't it?

down at the old BuU and Bush' to knackered pianos.

So the only Hme Dad could have got to see Eva was at lunchtimes,
and maybe she did meet him outside his ofice for an arm_in-arm
lunch in St fames's Park, just like Mum and Dad when they were
courting. Whether Dad and Eva were making love or not, I had no
idea. But I found a book in his briefcase with illusEations of Chinese
sexual positions, which included Mandarin Ducks Entwined, the
complicated Dwarfed Pine Tree, Cat and Mouse Share a Hole, and
the delightul Dark Cicada Clings to a Branch.
Whether the Dark Cicada was clinging to a branch or not, life was
tense. But on the surface, at least, it was straightforward, until one
Sunday moming two months after I'd visited Gin and Tonic,s house
I opened our front door and Uncle Ted was standing there. I tooked
at him without a smile or greeting, and he looked at me back, getting
uncomfortable until he managed to say, 'Ah, son, l,ve iust popped
round to look at the garden and make sure them rogea have come
out.'

By train, eh?'
He went into the kitchen, where Mum was putting the Sunday
roast in the oven. He took her out into the garden, and I muld see
him asking her how she was. ln other words, what was happe.i.g
with Dad and Eva and l the Buddha business? What could Mum
say? Everything was OK and not OK. There were no clues, but ttut
dn't mean crimes were notbeing committed.
Having dealt with Mum, still in his businessman mode, Ted
barged into the bedfix)m, where Dad was. Nosy as ever, I followed
him, even as he tried to slam the door in my face.
Dad was sitting on the white counterpane of his bed, deaning his
shoes with one of my tiedyed vests. Dad polished his shoes, about
ten pairs, with patience and care, every Sunday morning. Then he
brushed his suits, rose his shirts for the week - one day pink, the
next blue, the next lilac and so on - selected his crrlinks, and
arranged his ties, of which there were at least a hundled. Sitting
there absorbed, and turning in surprise as the door banged open,
with huge puffing Ted in black boots and a baggy green turtleneck
filling the room like a horse in a prison cell, Dad looked small and
childlike in comparison, his privary and innocence now violated.
They looked at each other, Ted truculent and dumsy, Dad iust
sitting there in white vest and pyiama bottoms, his bull neck sinking
into his tremendous rest and untremendous guts. But Dad dn't
mind at all. He loved it when people carne and went, ttre house full
of talk and aivity, as it worrld have been in Bombay.
'Ah, Ted, please, can you have a look at this for me?'
'What?'
A look of panic invaded Ted's face. Every time he came to our
plade he determined not to be rnanoeuvred into fixing anything.
fust glance at one gone.wrong damn thing,'Dad said.
He led Ted around the bed to a shaky table on which he kept his
record-playe, one of those box iobs covered in cheap felt udth a

46

47

cancelled there were always others soon after. There were ns

excuses to be made in the evenings: no one went out, there was

nowhere to go, and Dad never socialized with anyone from the
office. They too fled London as quickly as they could after work.
Mum and Dad went to the pictures maybe once a year, and Dad
always fell asleep; once they went to the theatre to see lest Side
Story . W e didn't know anyone who went to pubs, apart from Uncle
Ted: pubbing waa lower class, and where we lived the toothless and
shameleoa tended to

sing'Com , come, come and make

eyes at me,

small speaker at the front and a brittle cream turntable, with a long
spindle through it for stacking long-players. Dad waved at it and
addressed Ted as I'rn sure he used to speak to his servants.
'I'm heart-broken, Ted. tr can't play my Nat King Cole and Pink
Floyd records. Please help me out.'
Ted peered at it. I noticed his ingers were thick as sausages, the
nails srnashed, the flesh ingrained with filth. I tried to imagine his
hand on a woman's body. 'Why can't Karim do it?'
'He's saving his fingers to be a doctor. Plus he's a useless bastard.'
That's tme,' said Ted, cheered by this insult.
'of course, is the useless that endure.'
Ted looked suspiciously at Dad after this uncalled-for mysticism. I
fetched Ted's screwdriver from his car and he sat on the bed and
started to unscrew the record-player.
]ean said I should come and see you, Harry.'Ted dn't know

what to say next and Dad didn't hetp him. 'She says you're a
Buddhist.'
He said'Buddhist'as he would have said'homosexual'had he
c'
cause to say'homosexual'ever, which he dn't.

'What ie a Buddhiet?'
'What wac all that funny bualneaa with no shoes on the other
week up ln Chltlchurat?'Ted countered.
'pld lt dlrgutt you, llatenlng to me?'
'Mc? No, l'll llsten to anyone. But lean, she definitely had her
rtomoch tumed queer.'

'why?'

Dad was conrrsing Ted.

'Buddhism isn't the kinit of thing she's used to. Is got to stop!
Everything you're up to, is tot to stoP right now!'
Dad went into one of his crafty silences" iust sitting there with his
thumbs together and his head humbly bent like a kid who,s been
told off but is convinced, in his heart, that he's right.
'So just stoP, o what will I tell
Ted was getting stormy. Dad continued
'ean?' to sit.
Tell her: Harr5/s nothing.'
This took the rest of the puff out of Ted, who was, failing
everything else, in need of a row, even though he had his hands full
of record-player parts.
Then, with a turn of speed, Dad switched the subiect. Like a
48

footballer passing a long low ball right through the opposition's

defence he started to ask Ted how work was, work and btrsiness.
Ted sighed, but he brightened: he seemed better on this subject.
'Hard work, very hard, from momin' till night.'
1es?'

'Work, work, damn work!'

Dad was uninterested. Or so I thought.
Then he did this extraordinary thing. I don't think he even knew
he was going to do it. He got up and went to Ted and put his hand on
the back of Ted's neck, and pulled Ted's neck towards him, until Ted

had his nose on Das rest. Ted remained in that position, the
record-player on his lap, with Dad looking down on to the top of his
head, for at least five minutes before Dad spoke. Then he said,
'fhere's too much work in the world.'
Somehow Dad had released Ted from the obligation to behave
normally. Ted's voice was roked. 'Can't iust stop,' he moaned.

Yes, you can.'

'How will I live?'
'How are you living now? Disaster. Follow your feelings. Follow
the course of least resistance. Do what pleases you - whatever it is.
Let the house fall down. Drift.'
'Don't be a cunt. Got to make an effort.'
'Under no circumstance make an effort,' said Dad firmly, grlPP
ing Ted's head. 'lf you don't stop making an effort you'll die soon.'
Die? Will I?'
'Oh yes. Trying is ruining you. You can't try to fall in love, can
you? And trying to make love leads to impotence. Follow your
feelings. All effort is ignorance. There is innate wisdom. Only do
what you love.'
'If I follow my fucking feelings I'll do fuck-all,' said Ted, I think. It
was hard to be sure, what with his nose pressed into Dad and this
honking noise come out. I tried to take up a grandstand position to
see if Uncle Ted was in tears, but I didn't want to jump around all
over the place and distract them.
'Do nothing, then,' said God.
'The house will fall down.'
'Who cares? Let it drop.'
'The business will collapse.'
'It's on its arse anyway,' Dad snorted.
49

Ted looked up at him. 'How d'you know?'

'Let it collapse. Do something else in a couple of years' time.'
Jean will leave me.'
'Oh, but fean's left you.'
'Oh God, oh God, oh God, you're the stupidest person I've ever
met, Harry.'

'Yes, I think I am quite stupid. And you're suffering like hell.

You're ashamed of it, too. Are people not allowed even to suffer

now? Suffer, Ted.'

Ted was suffering. He sobbed generously.
'Now,' said Dad, readjusting his priorities, 'whas wrong with
this fu cking record-player?'
Ted emerged from Dad's room to find Mum coming up the hall
with a full plate of Yorkshire puddings. 'What have you done to
Uncle Ted?' she said, clearly shocked. She stood there as Uncle Ted's
endless legs buckled and he sank down on the bottom of the stairs
like a dying giraffe, still holding Dad's tumtable, his head against
the wall, rubbing Brylcreem against the wallpaper, the one thing
certain to incense Mum.
'l've released him,' said Dad, rubblng hie hands together.

no kind of order. feeta's till was crammed into a cornerby the door,

so she was always cold and wore fingerless gloves the year
roun Anwas chair was at the opposite end, in an alcove, from
which he looked out exPessionlessly' outside were boxes of
vegetables. Paradise opened at eight in the moming and dosed at
ten at night. They didn't even have Sundays off now, though every
year at Christrnas Anwar and feeta took a week off. Every year, after
the New Year, I dreaded hearing Anwar say, 'Only three hundred
and fifty-seven days until we can est freely again.'
I didn't know how mut money they had. But i,f they had
anything they must have buried it, because they never bought any of
the things people in Chislehurst would exnnge their legs for:

velvet curtains, ster os, Martinis, electric l,awnmowers, doubleglur B.The idea of enjoyment had passed leeta and '{nwar by.
They behaved as i they had unlimited livesl this life was of no

The following Saturday, when we were all together again with

hours of proximity ahead of us, I cycled out of the suburbs, leaving
that little house of turmoil behind me. There was another place I
could go.
When I arrived at Uncle Anwals shop, Paradise Stores, I could
see their daughter, famila, filling shelves. Her mother, the princess
feeta, was on the till. Paradise Stores was a dusty place with a high,
ornate and flaking ceiling. There was an inconvenient and tall block
of shelves in the centre of the shop, around which customers
shuffled, stepping over tins and cartons. The goods seemed to be in

consequence, it was merely the first of many hundreds to come in

which they could relish existence. They also knew nothing of the
outside world. I often askedleeta who the Foreign 9ecretary of Great
Britain was, or the name of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, but she
never knew, and d not gret her ignorance.
I looked through the window as I padlocked my bike to the
lamppost. tr couldn't see Anwar. Maybe he'd gone out to the betting
shop. His absence struck me as odd, because usually at this time,
unshaven, smoking, and wearing a rancid suit that Dad gave him in
1954, he was nosing around the backs of possible shoplifters, whom
he referred to as SLs. 'Saw two bad SLs today,' he'd say. T,ight
under my bloody nose, Karim. I chased their arses like mad.'
I watched famila, and pressed my nose to the glass and made a
range of jungle noises. I was Mowgli tfueatening Shere Khan. But
she didn't hear me. I marvelled at her: she was small and thin u ittt
large brown eyes, a tiny nose and little wire glasses. Her hair was
dark and long again. Thank Christ she'd lost the Aro 'nafural'
which had so startled the people of Penge a couple of years a6o. She
was forceful and enthusiastic, famiLa. She always seemed to be
leaning forward, arguing, persuading. She had a dark moustache,
too, which for a long time was more impressive than my own. If
anything it resembled my eyebrow - I had only one and, as famila
said, it lay above my eyes" thick and black, like the tail of a small
squirrel. She said that for the Romans joined eyebrows were a sign

5o

5t

What a weekend lt was, wtth the confusion and pain between Mum

and Dad vlually tanglble; if it had had physical substance, their

antlpathy would have filled our house with mud. It was as if only
one more minor remark or incident were required for them to

murder each other, not out of hatred but out of despair. I sat upstairs
in my room when I could, but kept imagining they r,\'ere going to try
and stab each other. And I panicked in case I wouldn't be able to
separate them in time.

of nobility; for the Greeks they were a sign of treachery. 'Which will
you tum out to be, Roman or Greek?' she liked to say.
I grew up with famila and we'd never stopped playing together.
famila and her parents were like an altemative family. It comforted
me that there was always somewhre less intense, and warmer,
where I could go when my own family had me thinking of running
away.
Princess feeta fed me dozens of the |rot kebabs I loved, which I
coated with mango chutrey and wrapped in chapati. She called me
the Fire Eater because of it. feeta's was also my favourite place for a

bath. Although their bathroom was rotten, with the plaster crrmbling off the walls, most of the ceiling dumped on the floor and the
Ascot heater as dangerous as a landmine, leeta would sit next to the
bath and massage my head with olive oil, jamming her ni$ fingers
into every crevice of my skull until my body was rnolten. In return
Iamila and I were insErred to walk on her back, |eeta lying beside
her bed while fammie and I trod up and down on her, holding on to
ear other while feeta gave orders: 'Press your toes into my neck it's stiff, stiff, made of iron! Yes, there, there! Down a bit! Yes, on the
bulge, on the rock, yes, downstairs, upstairs, on the landing!'
famila was more advanced than I, in every way" There was a
library next to the shop, and for years the librarian, Miss Cutmore,
would take f amila in after school and give her tea. Miss Cutmore had

been a missionary in Arica, but she loved France too, having

suffered a broken heart in Bordeaux. .dt the age of thirteen famila
was reang non-stoP, Baudelaire and Colette and Raguet and all
that rude lot, and borrowing records of Ravel, as well as singerp
popular in France, like Billie Holliday. Then she got this thing about
wanting to be Simone de Beauvoir, which is when she and I started

having sex every couple of weeks or so, when we could find

somewhere to go - usually a bus shelter, a bomb-site or a derelict
house. Those books must have been dynamite or something,

because we even did it in public toilets. fammie wasn't afraid of iust

sholling shaight into the Men's and locking the cubicle behind us.
Very Parisian, she thought, and wore feathers, for God's sake. It was
pretentious, of course, and I learned nothing about sex, not the
slightest thing about where and how and here and there, and I lost
none of my fear of intimary.
|amila received the highest-class education at the hands o Miss
52

Cutmore, who loved her. tust being for years beside someone who
liked writers, coffee and subversive ideas, and told her she was
brilliant had changed her for good, I reckoned. I kept moaning that I
wished I had a teacher like that.
But when Miss Cutrnore left South london for Bath, famila got
gudgng and started to hate Miss Cutmore for forgetting that she
was lndian. famila thought Miss Cutmore really wanted to eradicate
everything that was foreign in her. 'She spoke to my Paents as if
they were peasants,'famila said. She drove me mad by saying Miss
Cutuiore had colonized her, but famila was the strongest-willed
person I'd met: no one could turn her into a colony. Anyway, I hated
ungrateful people. Without Miss Cutrrore, famila wouldn't have
even heard the word 'colonl/. Miss Cutmore started you off,' I told
her.

Via the record library lamila soon turned on to Bessie and Sarah
and Dinah xnd Flla, whose records she'd bring round to our pLace
and play to Dad. The/d sit de by side on his bed, waving their
arms and singrng along. Miss Cutmole had also told her about
equality, fraternity and the other one, I forget what it is, so in her
purse fammie always carried a photograph of Angela Davis, and she
wore black clothes and had a tnrculent attitude to schoolteachers.
For months it was Soledad this and Soledad that. Yeah, sometires
we were French, Jammie and I, and other times we went black
American. The thing was, we were supposed to be English, but to
the English we r'ere always wogs and nigs and Pakis and the rest of
it.

Compared to fammie I was, as a militant, a real shaker and

bembler. If people sPat at me I praically thanked them for not
making me chew the moss between the paving stones. But famila
had a PhD in physical retribution. Once a greaser rode past us on an
old birycle and said, as if asking the time, 'Eat shit, Pakis.' fammie
sprinted through the traffic before throwing the bastard off his bike

and tugging out some of his hair, like someone weeding an

overgovn garden.

Now, today, Auntie leeta was senring a customer in the shop,

putting bread and oranges and tins of tomatoes into a brown-paper
bag. famila wasn't acknowledging me at all, so I waited by Auntie
feeta, whose miserable face must, I was sure, have driven away
53

thousands of customers over the years, none of them realizing she

was a princess whose brothers carried guns.
'How's your back, Auntie )eeta?' I asked.
'Bent like a hairpin with worries,' she said.
'How could you lorry, Auntiefeeta, with a thrivingbusiness like
this?'
'Hey, never mind my mouldy things. Take lamila on one of yotrr
walks. Please, will you do that for me?'
'Whas wrong?'
'Here's a ffimosa, Fire Eater. Extra hot for naughty boys.'
'Where's LJncle Anwar?' She gave me a plaintive look. 'And who's
Prime Minister?' I added.
off }amila and I went, tearing through Penge. She rey walked,
lamila, and when she wanted to cross the road she iust strode
through the baffic, expecting cars to stop or slow down for her,
which they did. Eventually she asked her favourite question of all
tirne. 'What have you got to tell, Creamy? What stories?'
Facts she wanted, and good stories, the worse the better - stories
of embarrassment and humillation and failure, mucky and semenstaincd, otherwlge ahe would walk away or something, like an
unlatlrlcd theatrc-gtrcr. But ttrlu Hmc I was PrePared. Spot-on
glorlel were waltlng llke drlnks or the thisty.
I told her ell obtlut Dad and Eva, about Auntie Jean's temper and
how the preorc.d down on my shoulders, which made me fart. I told
her about trances, and praying advertising executives, and attempts
in Beckenham to ind the Way on garden benches. And I told her
nothing about Great Danes and me- Whenever I asked her what she
thought I should do about Dad and Mum and Eva, or whether I
should run away from home again, or even whether we should lee
together to London and get work as waiters, she laughed louder.
'Don't you see is fucking serious?'I told her' 'Dad shouldn,t hurt
Mum, should he? She doesn't deserve it.'
'No, she doesn't. But the deed has been done, right, in that
Beckenham garden, while you were watching in your usual
position, on your knees, ight? oh, Creamy, you do get in some
stupid situations. And you do realize it's absolutely characteristic of
you, don't you?'
Now she was laughing at me so hard she had to stop and bend
forward for breath, v/ith her hands on her thighs. I went on. ,But

shouldn't Dad restrain himself, you know, and think about us, his
family? Put us first?'
It was talking about it now for the first time that made me realize
how unhappy the whole thing was making me. Our whole family
was in tatters and no one was talking about it.
'Sometimes you can be so bourgeois, Creamy feans. Families
aren't sacred, especially to Indian men, who talk about nothing else
and a othenvise.'
1our das not like that,' I said.
She was always putting me down. I couldt take it today. She
was so tnwerful, famnie, so in control and certain what to do about
everything.
'And he loves her. You said your dad loves Eva.'
Yes, I s'pose I did say that. I think he loves her. He hasn't exactly
said it over the place.'
'Well, Creamy, love should have its way, shouldn't it? Dot ya
believe in loveT
1es, oK, oK, theoretcally. For God's sake, Jammie!'
Before I knew it, we were passing a public toilet beside the park
and her hand was pulling on mine. As she tugged me towards it and
I inhaled the urine, shit and sinfectant cocktail I associated with
love, I just had to stop and think. I dt believe in monogamy or

anything old like that, but my mind was still on Charlie and I
couldn't think of anyone else, not even lammie.
It was unusual, I knew, the way I wanted to sleep with boys as
well as guls. I liked strong bodies and the backs of boys' necks- I
liked being handled by men, their fists pulling me; and I liked
obiects - the ends of brushes, pens, fingers - up my arse. But I liked
cunts and breasts, all of women's softness, long smooth legs and the
way women dressed. I felt it would be heart-breaking to have to
choose one or the other, like having to decide between the Beatles
and the Rolling Stones. I never liked to think much about the whole

thing in case I turned out to be a pervert and needed to have

treatment, hormones, or electric shocks through my brain. When I
did think about it I considered myself lucky that I could go to parties
and go home with anyone rom either sex - not that I went to many
parties, none at all really, but if I did, I could, you know, trade either
way. But my main love at the moment was my Charlie, and even
55

more important than that, it was Mum and Dad and Eva. How could
I think about anything else?
I had the brilliant idea of saying, 'And what's your nervs, lammie?

Tell me.'
She paused. It worked remarlobly well. 'Irs take another fum
around the block,' she said. 'Is seriousness squa1ed, Creamy }eans.
I don't know what's happening to me. No jokes, all right?'
She started at the beginning.
Under the influence of Angela Davis, famila had started exercising
every day, leaming karate and judo, getting up early to stretch and
run and do press-ups. She bowled along like a dream, Jamila; she
could have run on snow and left no footsteps. She was preparing for
the guerrilla war she knew would be necessary when the whites
finally tumed on the blacks and Asians and tried to force us into gas
chambers or push us into leaky boats.
This wasn't as ludisous as it sounded. The area in which |amila
lived was closer to London than our suburbs, and far poorer. It was
full of neo-fascist groups, thugs who had their own pubs and dubs
and shops. On Saturdays they'd be out in the High Sheet selling
their newspapers and pamphlets. They also operated outside the
schools and colleges and football grounds, like Millwall and Crystal
Palace. At night they roamed the streets, beating Asians and
shoving shit and burning ags through their letter-boxes. Frequently
the mean, white, hating faces had public meetings and the Union
facks were paraded through the streets, protected by the police.
There was no evidence that these people would go away - no
evidence that their power would diminish rather thanincrease. The
lives o Anwar and Jeeta and Jamila were pervaded by ear of
violence. I'm sure it was something they thought about every day.
feeta kept buckets of water around her bed in case the shop was firebombed in the night. Many of famila's attitudes were inspired by the
possibility that a white group might kill one of us one day.
famila tried to recruit me to her cadre for training but I couldn't get
up in the moming. 'Why do we have to start training at eight?' I
whined.
'Cuba wasn't won by getting up late, was it? Fidel and Che didn't
get up at two in the afternoon, did they? They didn't even have time
to shave!'
56

Anwar didn't like these training sessions of hers. He thought she

was meeting boys at these karate classes and long runs through the
city. Sometimes she'd be running through Deptford and there, in a
doorway with his collar turned up, his hairy nose just visible, wo ld
be Baby Face watching her, turning away in disgust when she blew
Daddy a kiss.
Soon after Daddy's hairy nose had been blown a kiss that didn't
reach its destination, Anwar got a phone installed and started to lock
himself in the living room with it for hours on end. The rest of the
time the phone was locked. famita had to use a phonebox. Anwar
had secretly decided it was time famila got married.

Through these calls Anwa/s brother in Bombay had fixed up

famila with a boy eager to come and live in London as famila's
husband. Except that this boy wasn't a boy. He was thirty. As a
dowry the ageing boy had demanded ? warm winter overcoat from
Moss Bros', a colour television and, mysteriously, an etion of the
complete works of Conan Doyle. Anwar agreed to this, but consulted Dad. Dad thought the Conan Doyle demand very strange.
"What normal Inan tnan would want such a thing? The boy must
be investigated further

- immediately!'
But Anwar ignored Dad's feeling. There had been friction

between Anwar and Dad over the question of children before. Dad
was very proud that he had two sons. He was convincedit meant he
had 'good seed'. As Anwar had only produced one daughter it

meant that he had 'weak seed'. Dad loved pointing this out to

Anwar. 'Surely, yur, you have potentially more than one girl and

one girl only in your entire lifetime's seed-production, eh?'

'Fuck it,'Anwar replied, rattled' 'It's my wie's fault, you bastard.
Her womb has shrivelled like a prune.'
Anwar had told lamila what he'd decided: she was to marry the
Inan and he would come over, slip on his overcoat and wife and
live happily ever after in her muscly ams.

Then Anwar would rent a flat nearby for the newly-weds. 'Big
enough for two children,' he said, to a startled famila. He took her
hand and added, 'Soon you'll be very h"ppy.' Her mother said,
'\rVe're both very glad for you, famila.'
Not surprisingly for someone with Jamila's temper and Angela
Davis's beliefs, famila wasn't too pleased.
'What did you say to him?' I asked, as we walked.
57

'Creamy, I'd have walked out there and then. I'd have got the
Council to take me into care. Anything. I'd have lived with friends,
done a runner. Except for my mother. He takes it out on feeta. He
abuses her.'
'Hits her? Really?'
'He used to, yes, until I told him I'd cut off his hair with a canring
knife if he did it again. But he knows how to make her lie terrible
without physical violence. He's had many years of praice.'
'lA/ell,' l said, satisfied that there wasn't mur more to be said on
the matter, 'in the end he can't make you do anything you don,t
want to do.'
She turned on me. But he can! You know my ather well, but not
that well. There's something I haven't told you. Come with me.
Come on, IGrim,'she insisted.
We went back to their shop, where she quickly made me a kebab
and chapati, t}ris time with onions and green rillis. The kebab
sweated brown iuice over the raw onions. The chapati scalded my
fingers: it was lethal.
'Bring it upstaire, wlll you, IGrim?' she said.
Her mother called through to ue from the till. 'No, famila, don't
take him up there!' And she banged down a bottle of milk and
rightened a cuctromer.
'What'r wn)nt, Auntie [erlta?'I asked. She was going to cry.
'Comc on,'famila said.
l wag about to wedge as mur of the kebab as I could into my gob
without puking when famila putled me upstairs, her mother shouting after her, tamila, famila!'
By now I wanted to go home; I'd had enough of family dramas. If I
wanted all that lbsen stuff I could have stayed indoors. Besides, with
famila's help I'd wanted to work out what I thought of Dad and Eva,
whether I should be open-minded o not. Now there was no chance

Anwar was sitting on a bed in the living room, which wasn't his
normal bed in its normal place. He was wearing a frayed and
mouldyJooking pyiama jacket, and I noticed that his toenails rather
resembled cashew nuts. For some reason his mouth was hanging
open and he was panting, though he couldn't have run for a bus in
the last five minutes. He was unshaven, and thinner than I'd ever
seen him. His lips were dry and flaking. His skin looked yellow and
his eyes were sunken, each of them seeming to lie in a bruise. Next
to the bed was a diry encnrsted pot with a pool of piss in it. I'd never
seen anyone dying before, but I was sure Anwar qualified. Anwar

was staring at my steaming kebab as though it were a torture

instrument. I chewed speedily to get rid of it.

'Why didn't you tell me he's sick?' I whispered to )amila.
But I wasn't convinced that he was simply sick, since the pity in
her face was overlaid with fury. She was glaring at her old man, but
he wouldn't meet her eyes, nor mine after I1d walked in. He stared
straight in front of him as he always d at the television sct en,
except that it wasn't on.
'He's not ill,' she said.
'No?' I said, and then, to him, 'Hallo, Uncle Anwar. How are you,
boss?'

His voice was changed: it was reedy and weak now. 'Take that
damn kebab out of my nose,' he said. 'And take that damn girl with
you.'
famila touched my arm. 'Watch.' She sat down on the edge of the
bed and leaned towards him. 'Please, please stop all this.'

arseholes and farts swirling together, a mingling of winds which

hurried straight for my broad nostrils. Their flat was always a junk
shop, with the fumiture busted and fingerprints all over the doors
and the wallpaper about a hundred years old and fag butts sprinkled
over every surface, but it never stank, except of feeta's wonderful
cooking, which tent on permanently in big bumt pans.

'Get lost!' he croaked at her. 'You're not my daughter. I don't

know who you are.'
'For all our sakes, please stop it! Here, Karim who loves you - '
'Yes, yes!'I said.
'He's brought you a lovely tasty kebab!'
'Why is he eating it himsel then?'Anwar said, reasonably. She
snatched the kebab from me and waved it in front of her father. At
this my poor kebab started to disintegrate, bits of meat and chilli and
onion scattering over the bed. Anwar ignored it.
'What's going on here?'I asked her.
'Look at him, Karim, he hasn't eaten or drunk anything for eight
days! He'll die, Karim, won't he, if he doesn't eat anything!'

58

59

of contempLation.
Half-way up the stairs I smelled something rotten. It was feet and

Yes. You'll cop it, boss, if you don,t eat your grub like everyone
else.'
'I won't eat. I will e. If Gandhi could shove out the English
from
India by not eating, I can get my family to obey me by exactly the
same.'
'What do you want her to do?,
To marry the boy I have selected with my brother.'
Tut it's old-fashioned, Uncle, out of date,, I explained. ,No one
does that kind of thing now. They iust marry the person the re into,
if they bother to get married at all.,

This homily on contemPorary morals idn,t exaly blow his

mind.
That is not our way, boy. Our way is firm. She must do what I say
or I will die. She will kill me.'
famila started to punch the bed.
'It's so stupid! What a waste of time and Me!,

Anwar was urunoved. I'd ways liked hirn because he was so

casual about everything; he wasn,t perpetually anxious like my
parents. Now he was making a big fuss about a mere mariage and I
couldn't understand it. I know it made me sad to see him ao tnis to
himself. I couldn't believe the thin8s people d to themselves, how
they screwed up their lives and made things go wrong, like Dad
having it away with Eva, or Ted,s breakdown, and now Uncle
Anwar going on this major Gandhi diet. It wasn,t as if external
circumstances had forced them into these lunacies; it was plain
illusion in the head.
Anwar/s irrationality was making me tremble, I can tell you. I
know I kept shaking my head everlrwhere. He'd locked himserf in a

bathroom and fetched a wet cloth, returning to soak the pissy sheet
until I was sure it wouldn't stink any more. It was irrational of me to
hate his irrationality so much that I sprayed piss over his bed" But as
I scmbbed his sheet I realized he had no idea what I was doing on
my knees beside him.
famila came outside while I unlocked my bike.
"What are you going to do, Iammie?'
'I don't know. What do you suggest?'
'I don't know either.'

'No.'
'But I'll think about it,' I said. 'I promise I'll come up with
something.'

'Thanks.'

She started unashamedly to cry, not covering her face or trying to

stop. Usually I get embarrassed when gitls cry. Sometimes I feel like
clouting them for making a fuss. Butfamila really was inihe shit. We
must have stood there outside Paradise Stores for at least half an

hour, just holding each other and thinking about our respeive
futures.

private room beyond the reach ofreason, ofpersuasion, ofevidence.

Even happiness, that frequent pivot of decision, was irrelevant here
- famila's happiness, I mean. Like her I wanted to express myself
physically in some way. It seemed to be all that was left to us.
I kicked Une Anwas piss-pot qu
wave of urine splashed against the

ignored me. famila and I stood there,

was making my uncle sleep in his own piss. Suppose he later

clutched that piece of sheet to his nose, to his mouth. Hadn,t he
always been kind to me, Uncle Anwar? Hadn,t he always accepted
me exactly as I was, and never told me off? I bolted into the
6r

because I called him a queer. This teacher was always making me sit

on his knee, and when he asked me questions like 'What is the

square root of five thousand six hundred and seventy-eight and a
half?', which I couldn't answer, he tickled me. Very educational. I

CHAPTER FIVE

loved drinking tea and I loved rycling.

would bike to the tea shop

in the High Street and see what blends they had. My bedroom

contained boxes and boxes of tea, and I was always happy to have
new brews with which to concoct more original combos in my
teapot. I was supposed to be preparing for my mock A levels in

History, English and Politics. But whatever happened I knew

would fail.thern. I was too concemed with other things. Sometimes I

took speed - 'blues', little blue tablets - to keep me awake, but they
made me depressed, they made my testicles shrivel up and I kept
thinking I was getting a heart attack. So I usually sipped spiry tea
and listened to records all night. I favoured the tuneless: King
Crimson, Soft Machine, C-aptain Beefheart, Frank Zappa and Wild
Man Fisher. lt was easy to get most of the music you wanted from
the shops in the High Street.
During these nights, as all around me was silent - most of the
neighbourhood went to bed at ten-thirty- I entered another world. I

read Norman Mailer's ioumalism about an aion_man writer

involved in danger, resistance and political commitment: adventure

stories not of the distant past, but of recent times. I'd bought a TV
from the man in the chip shop, and as the black-and-white box
heated up it stank of grease and fish, but late at night i heard of cults
and experiments in living, in Caliomia. In Europe terrorist gouPs
were bombing capitalist tagets; in London psychologists were
s)nng you had to live your own life in your or,vn way and not
according to your family, or you'd go mad. In bed I read Rolling Stone
magazine. Sometimes I felt the whole world was converging on this
little room. And as I became more intoxicated and frustrated I,d
throw open the bedroom window as the dawn came up, and look
across the gardens, lawns, greenhouses, sheds and curtained
windows. I wanted rny life to begin now, at this instant, iust when I
was ready for it. Then it was time for my paper-round, followed by
school. And schocil was another thing I,d had enough of.
Recently I'd been punched and kicked to the ground by a teacher
6z

was sick too of being affectionately called Shitface and Curryface,

and of coming home covered in spit and snot and chalk and woodshavings. We did a lot of woodwork at our school, and the other kids
liked to lock me and my fiends in the storeroom and have us chant
'Manchester United, Manchester United, we are the boot boys' as
they held chisels to ou throats and cut off our shoelaces. We d a
lot of woodwork at the school because they didn't think we could
deal with books. One day the woodwork teacher had a heart attack
right in front of our eyes as one of the lads put another kid's prick in
a vice and started to turn the handle. Fuck you, Charles Dickens,
nothing's changed. One kid tried to brand my arm with a red-hot
lump of metal. Someone else pissed over my shoes, and l my Dad
thought about was me becoming a doctor. What world was he living
in? Every day I considered myself lucky to get home from school
without serious injury.
So after all this I felt I was ready to retire. There was nothing I

particularly wanted to do. You didn't have to do anything. You

could just drift and hang out and see what happened, which suited
me fine, even more than being a Customs Officer or a professional
footballer or a guitarist.
So I was racing through South London on mybike, nearly getting

cmshed several times by lorries, head bent over the dropped

handlebars, swiftly running through the ten Campagnola gears,
nipping through traffic, sometimes mounting the pavement, uP
one-!\ray streets, breaking suddenly, accelerating by stanng up on
the pedals, exhilarated by thought and motion.
My mind was crawling with it all. I had to save famila from the
man who loved Arthur Conan Doyle. She might have to run alvay
from home, but where could she go? Most of her friends from school
lived with their parents, and most of them were Poor; they couldn't

have famila with them. She definitely couldn't stay with us: Dad
would tet in shit vith Anwar. Who could I discuss it with? The only
person I knew who'd be helpful and obiective and on my side was
Eva. But l wasn't supposed to like her because her love or my father
was buggering uP ou entire family. Yet she was the only sane
63

8own-uP l knew now that I could cross Anwar andleeta off my list
of normals.
It was certainlybizane, Uncle Anwar behaving like a Muslim. I'd
never known him believe in anything before, so it was an amazing

novelty to find him literally staking his life on the principle of

absolute patriarchal authority. Through her mothes staunch and
indulgent love (plus the fibbing extravagances of her wonderful
imagination), but mainly because of Anwa/s indifference, famila
had got away with things some of her white counterparts wouldn't
dream of. There had been years of smoking, drinking, sexual

intercourse and dances, helped by there being a fire escape outside

her bedroom and the fact her parents were always so exhausted they
slept like mummies.
Maybe there were similarities between what was happening to
Dad, with his discovery of Eastern philosophy' and Anwas last
stand. Perhaps it was the immigrant contion living itself out
through them. For years they were both h"ppy to live like Englishmen. Anwar even scofed pork pies as long as feeta wasn't looking.
(My dad never touched the pig, though I was sure this was
conditioning rather than religious scruple, just as I wouldn't eat
horse's scrofum. But once, to test this, when I offeled him a smoky
bacon crisp and said, as he crunched greely into it, 'I dn't know
you liked smoky bacon,' he sprinted into the bathroom and wash
out his mouth with soap, screaming from his frothing lips that he
would burn in hell.)
Now, as they aged and seemed settled here, Anwar and Dad
appeared to be retuming internally to lndia, or at least to be resisting
the English here. It WS prrzzling: neither of them expressed any
desire actually to see their origins again. 'India's a rotten place,,
Anwar grumbled. 'Why would I want to go there again? Is filthy
and hot and is a big pain-in-the-arse to get anything done. If I went
anywhere it would be to Florida and Las Vegas for gambling., And
my father was too involved with thints here to consider returning.
I was working on all this as I rycled. Then I thought I saw my
father. As there were so few Asians in our part of London it could
hardly have been anyone else, but the person had a scarf over most

The creature with the scarf was across the road in a crowd of
shoppers. They were fanatical shoppers in our suburbs. Shopping
was to them what the rumba and singing is to Brazilians. Saturday
afternoons, when the skeets were solid with white faces, was a
carnival of consumerism as goods were ripped from shelves. And
every year after Christuras, when the sales were about to begin,
there'd be a queue of at least twenty iots sleeping in the winter
cold outside the big stores fo two days before they opened,
wrapped in blankets and lying in dechairs.
Dad norurally wouldn't have been otrt in sur madness, but there
he was, this grey-haired man iust over five feet tall, going into a
phone-box when we had a working telephone in our hall. I could see
he'd never used a public phone before. He put on his glasses and
read through the instnrctions several times beore putting a pile of
coins on top of the box and alling. When he got through and began
to speak he cheered up as he laughed and talked away, before
becorning depressed at the end of the call. He put the phone down,
turned, and spotted me watring him'
He came out of the phone-box and I pushed my bicycle beside him
through the crowds. I badly wanted to know his opinion on the
Anwar business, but obviously he wasn't in the.mood for it now.
'How's Eva?'I asked.

bank. I got off my birycle and stood there in Bromley High Street,
next to the plaque that said'H. G. Wells was bom here,.

'She sends her love."

At least he wasn't going to pretend he hadn't been talking to her.
'To me or to you, Dad?' I said.
To you, boy. Her friend. You don't realize how fond she is of you.
She admires you, she thinks -'
'Dad, Dad, please tell me. Are you in love with her?'
'Love?'
'Yes, in love. You know. For God's sake, you know.'
It seemed to surprise hlm, I don't know why. Maybe he was
surprised that I'd guessed. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to raise the
lethal notion of love in his own mind.
'Karim,'he said, 'she's become dose to me. She's someone I can
talk to. I like to be with her. We have the same interests, you know
that.'
I didn't want to be sarcastic and aggressive, because there were
certain basic things I wanted to know, but I ended up saying, 'That
must be nice for you.'

64

65

o his face and looked like a nervous bank robber who couldn,t ind a

He didn't aPPea to hear me; he was concentrating on what he

was saying.
He said, 'It must be love because it hurts so much.,
'What are you going to do, then, Dad? Will you leave us and go

away with her?'

There are certain looks on certain faces I don,t want to see again,
and this was one of them. Confusion and anguish and fear ctouaea
his face. I was sure he hadn't thought much about any of this. It had
all just happened in the random way things do. Now it surprised
him thathe was expected to declare the pattemand intention behind
it all in order that others could understand. But there wasn,t a pLan,
iust passion and strong feeling which had ambushed him.
'I don't know.'
"lllhat do you eel tike7

'I feel as if I'm experiencing things l,ve never felt before, very
strong, potent, ovenlrhelming things.'
You mean you never loved Mum?,
He thought for a while about this. why did he have to even think!
'Have you ever missed anyone, Kaim? A
B'l7 We must have
both been thinking of Charlie, because he added kiny, ,or a
friend?'
I nodded.
'All the time I am not with Eva I miss her. when I talk to myserf in
my mind, it is always her I talk to. She understands many things. I
feel that if I am not with her I will be making a great mistake, mising
a real opportunity. And there's something else. Something that Ev
just told me.'
'Yeah?'
'She is seeing other men.'
'What sort o men, Dad?'
He shrugged. 'I didn't ask or specifications.'
'Not white men in dripdry shirts?,
'You snob, I don't know why you dislike drifdry shirts so much.
These things are very convenient for women. But you remember
that beetle Shadwell?'
'Yeah.'

'She is with him often. He is in London now, working in the

kno s those
artistic types. she loves all that art-fart thing. They come to her
theatre. He will be a big shot one day, she thinks. He

house for parties.' Here Dad hesitated. 'She and the beette don't do
anything together in that way, but I am afraid that he will romantically take her away. I will feel so lost, trGrim, without her.'
'I've always been suspicious of Eva,' l said. 'She likes important
people. She's doing it to blackmail you, I know she is.'

'Yes, and partly because she's unhappy without me. She can't

wait for me for years and years. Do you blame her?'

We pushed through the throng. I saw some people from school
and tumed my head away so as to avoid them. I dn't want them to
see me cryiry. 'Have you told Munr all this I said.
'No, no.'
'lAlhy not?'
'Because I'm so frightened. Because she will suffer so much.
Because I can't bear to look at her eyes as I say the words. Because
you will all suffer so much and I would rather sfer myself than
have anything happen to you.'
'So you"ll be staying with Allie and me and Mum?'

He dn't reply for a couple o minutes. Even then he dn,t

bother with words. He grabbed me and pulled me to him and started

to kiss me, on the cheeks and nose and forehead and hair. It was
crazy. I nearly dropped my bike. Passers-by were startled. Someone

said, 'Get back in yer rickshaw." The day was dosing in on me. I
hadn't bought any tea and there was an Alan Freeman radio
protramme on the story of the l(nks that I wanted to listen to" I
pulled away from Dad and started to run, wheeling my bike beside
me.

'Wait a minute!'he shouted.

I turned. 'What, Dad?'

He looked bewildered. 'Is this the right bus stop?'

It was strange, the conversation Dad and I had, because when I saw
him at home later and over the next few days he behaved as if it had
never happened, as if he hadn't told me he'd fallen in love with

someone else.
Every day after srool

I rangfamila, and every day the reply to my

question, 'How are things?' was always, "The same, Ceamy,, or,
'The same but worse.' We agreed to have a sumrnit meeting in
Bromley High Stre t after school, where we'd make a decision on
what to do.

6Z

But that day I was leaving the school

gates with a group of boys
when I saw Helen. Itwas a surprise

becau"se I,d barely thought o

her

since I was fucked by her dog, an

incient with which she had
become associated
in my mindlHel"',

Now she was standjng utside *y

"r,

aog.o"t

-ur,t;;;";

a black lopPy hat and

long green coat, waiting for another "chooiir,
boy. ipottir,g me, she ran over
and kissed me' I was being kissed
a lot tately: I needed the affection,
Lcan tell-you. Anybody
h"u"
ki*;; me and I,d have kissed
-uH
them right back with interest.
The boy:, the group I hung around
with, had stinking matted hair
.
down to their should"'.
d"comporir,g
-o*
school jackets, no
ties, and flares. There had"r,
been some acid,'some purple haze,
going
round the school recently, and a
couple of boys.wel ilOO"l-rO
had half a tab at prayers inthe mornirig
U"i n f,"a worn off by now.
Some of the boys were exchang"S..""..d,
I c and the Faces. I
was negotiating to buy a
Jimi Henarix record _ Atb:

BoM as

from a kid who

I_,

to go-io-"r, Emerson, lake and

^^9."y
Pmer concert at "**g
the Fairfietd
ruu, rJ. r,."t's sake. I suspected
this
fool was so desperate for money
n", r,"
the bumps and
sctatches on the scwith black
"orrcealed
shoe Po!i"h,
so I was examining its
surface with a magniying glass.
One of the boys was Charlie, who,d
bothered to tum up to school
for the first time in weeks. He stood
out iom the rest o the rnob
with his silver hair and stacked shoes.
H" tootea less winsome and
poetic now; his face was harder,
with short hair, the cheekbones
more Pronounced. It was Bowie,s
inluence, I knew. B"*i"; th;;
called David Jones, had attendea
o* *i*t several years before,
and there, in a groupphotograph
h ne aining ha[ was his face.
Boys were often to be found J"
in"i' t',*" b" ,r,r' i""", p'"l""g
to be made into pop stars and
for rerease from a rifetime as a
motormechanic, or a clerk in an insurance
firm, or a junior architect. But
apart frorrr Charlie,
n11e of us had rug

we had a
combination of miserable expectations
"'p""t"tions;
l"J
*ira hopes. Mysel I
had only wild hopes.
Charlie ignored me, as he was ignoring
most of his friends since
he'd appeared on the front-page
of the B romrey and Kentish Times
with
his band, Mustn,t Grumble, -"ft".
ur,
gig in a local sports
ground' The band had been playing
"p";;.for two
togther
years, at school
dances, in pubs and as support
at a couple of bigger concerts,
but
68

they'd never been written about before. This sudden fame

impressed and disturbed the whole school, including the teachers,

who called Charlie'Girlie'.
Charlie brightened at the sight of Helen and came over to us. I had
no idea that he knew her. On tip-toe she kissed him.
'How are the rehearsals?' she asked, her hand in his hair.
'Great. And we're doing another gig soon.'
'I'U be there.'
'If you're not, we won't play,' he said. She laughed all over the
place at this. I intervened. I had to get a word in.
'How's your dad, Charlie?'
He said to
He looked at me with amusement. 'Much
next
week and
He's
coming
out
the
head
hospital"
in
Helen, 'Dad's
going
home
to
Eva.'
keeps saying he's

'Rely?'
Eva living with her own husband again? That surprised me. It
would surprise Dad too, no doubt.
'Is Eva pleased?' I said.

'As you well know, you little pouf, she nearly died.

She's

interested in other things now. Other people. Right? I reckon Dad'll

be getting the bum's rush to his mum as soon as he steps in our door.
And thall be that between them.'

'Oh God.'
'Yeah, but I don't like him too much anyway. He's sastic.
There'll be room in our house for someone else. Everything in our
lives is going to change pretty soon. I love your old man, Creamy.
He inspires me.'
I was flattered to hear this. I was about to say, If Eva and Dad get
married you'll be my brother and we'll have committed incest, but I
managed to shut my trap. Still, the thought Bave me quite a jolt of
pleasure. It meant I'd be connected to Charlie for years and yeats,
long after we left school. I wanted to encourage Dad and Eva to get
together. Surely it was up to Mum to get on her feet again? Maybe
she'd even find someone else, though I doubted it.
Suddenly the suburban street outside the school was blasted by an
explosion louder than anything heard there since the Luftwaffe
bombed it in 1944. Windows opened; Srocers ran to the doors of
their shops; customers stopped discussing bacon and turned; our
teachers wobbled on their birycles as the noise buffeted them like a
69

slool tates as they came out

cool boys, shrugged or tumed

g and scuffling their feet.

conunon like us
boy to be in ch

Charlie was at
rehearse with his band.
'Want a lift anlrwhere?, Charlie
shouted to Helen.
'Not today! See you!,

kaffic,scattering small boys who,d

1
try and open the bonnet, for
God,s
rtate

home to our mothers, to our

uce, to leam Frent words,

to pack

tomorror^r.

But Charlie would b" ilth

clubs at one in the morning.

FIe,d meet

But at least for now I was with

Helen.

when you came to the house,,

thi.g.,
ve of people being used
iust for

'Look,' I said, turning sharply

on her and utilizing advice I,d
been
70

'Yes. Dyou have anything to do this afternoon?'

'No, 'course not.'
'Be with me, tlten?'
'Yeah, Breat.'
She took my arm and we walked on together past the schoolboy
eyes. She said she was going to run away from school and go to live
in San Francisco. She'd had enough of the pettiness of living with
parents and the irrelevance of school was smothering her head- All
over the Westem world there wele liberation movements and
alternative life-styles - there had never been a kids' crusade like it and Hairy Back wouldn't let her stay out after eleven. I said the kids'

cnrsade was curdling now, everyone had overdosed, but she

wouldn't listen. Not that I blamed her. By the time we had heard of
anything you could be sure it was over. But I hated the idea of her
going away, mainly because I hated the idea of staying behind.
Charlie was doing big things, Helen was preparing her escape, but
what was I up to? How would I get awaY?
I looked up and saw |amila hurrying towards me in black T-shirt
and white shorts. I'd forgotten that I'd agreed to meet her. She ran

i the

ott
mus
And

given by Charlie about the t atment of women: Keep'em keen,

treat'em mean. 'I've got to walk to the bus stop. I don't want to
stand here all aftemoon being laughed at like a cunt. Where is the
person you're waiting for?'
'It's you, silly.'
'You came to see me

the last few yards and was breathing heavily, but more out of
anxiety than exhaustion. I introduced her to Helen. Jamila barely
glanced at her but Helen kept her arm in mine.
'Anwas getting vorse and worse,'|amila said. 'He's going the
whole way.'
'D'you want me to leave you two together?' Helen asked.
I quickly said no and asked fammie i I corrld tell Helen what was
happening.

'Yes, if you want to expose our culture as being ridiculous and our
people as old-fashioned, extreme and narrow-minded.'
So I told Helen about the hunger-strike. famila butted in to add
details and keep us up to date. Anwar hadn't compromised in the
slightest, not nibbling a biscuit or sipping a glass of water or
smoking a single cigarette. Either famila obeyed or he would die

7t

yainfuU1, his organs failing one by one. And if they

took him to
he'd
iust do the same thing'again and again, untl
his famly

H:'rt::

It was starting to rain, so the

three of us sat in a bus shelter.
There

9,:j:: l.1 il

:"::1*1^.y," l*-ug,"bout

tamita

away from home,

T.^irg
.."'o
;;"'#; iTil,.tT;.;

J5:.T-"::5
-".,-""T.#:
iSIj: :L:t1,Y*:1 "l": ! -y -oth",?;
J;;"
*J#;,nT;
';:l'::::":*:li*"a'a.l""''r
j ffi ff'J''"ffiT
***;
ill
*:r,::,:.^:1""i :h" :'{1
i*;,il;;"Til,:TJ1:
:::l*: ::1 t": :l"dl

-";
T:::::::::Ij:,1"o''"".*:""*"'",;i;il'"o",i.n;H:

and round until Heten had a brain_wave.

.lve'llEo and ask your father,, she said. 'He's a wise man, he,s
spiritual and -'
a complete phoney,, said
_ne-s
tamila.
'Les_at least try it,, Heen
repnea.
So off we went to my house.
In the living room, with her
armost Eansrucent white legs
stickin*
o,ut.
dressing-gown, Mum was
wing.
1f -herShe
closed
her
sketch-book quickly ana sUpped
,, Uufrir, r chair. I could
see
she
was tired from her day in the
shoe shop. t always wanted
to ask her

as if happy to leave the suble

of her fathes suicide to others.
Helen

didn't help hersel

i"o"

tr,l'possibility of peace on
earth by ffiying she,d been ".
at Dad,s Cf,iuf"iu.rt
69.
'I didn't see it,, said Mum.
'Oh, what a shame. It was profound.,
Mum iooked self_pitying
,It
was tluerating.
want to go and [v
^"J" -"

rffi":j*:n.

man makes me want to go and

live in San Francisco,, said

nnff:,
'a"r$:1I

expect you,ve learned everything

he has to teach. Are

you a Buddhist?,

72

It seemed pretty incongruous, the conversation between Mum

and Helen. They were talking about Buddhism in Chislehurst,

against a background of mind-expansion, freedom and festivals. But
for Mum the Second World War was still present in our streets, the
streets where she'd been brought up. She often told me o the
nightly air-raids, her parents worn out from fire-watching, houses in
the familiar sbeets suddenly plunged into dust, people suddenly
gone, news of sons lost at the Front. What grasp of evil or the
possibilities of human destnrion could we have? All I materily

knew of the war was the thick squat block of the air-raid shelter at
the end of the garden which as a child I took over as my own little
house. Even then it contained its rows of iam-iars and rotten bunkbeds from 1943.
'Is simple for us to sPeak of love,' I said to Helen. 'l/hat about the
war?'
famila stood up irritably. lAlhy are we discussing the war, trGrim?'
'Is important, is -'
'You idiot. Please -' And she looked imploringly at Mum. '!AIe
came here for a purpose. Why ae you making me wait like this?
kt's get on with the consultation.'
Mum said, indicating the adioinin8 $'l' with him7
famila nodded and bit her fingernails. Mum laughed bitterly'He can't even sort hirnself out.'
'It was Karirs idea,'Jamila said, and swept out o the roomDon't make nre laugh,'Munr said to me- 'l/hy are you doing this
to her? Why don't you do something useful like dearing out the
kitchen? Why dot you go and read a srool book? Why don't you
do something that will tet you somewhere, Karim?'
'Don't get hysteical,' I said to Mum.
"Why not?'she replied.
When we went into his room, God was lying on his bed listening
to music on the rao. He looked approvingly at Helen and winked
at me. He liked her; but then, he was keen for me to go out with
,Iy'hy
go out with
anyone, as long as they were not boys or Indians.
friend of
a
Pakistani
I
brought
when
these Muslims?'he said once,
problems,'
he
many
famila's home with me. '\AIhy not?' I asked. Too
,\Arhat
problems?' I asked. He wasn't good at being
said imperiously.
speciic; he shook his head as if to say there were so many problems
7)

he dn't know where to begin. But he added, for

the sake of

argument, 'Dowries and all.,

8ame.
beore
Iamila rsed her eyes to heaven. Helen was drivingher to
suicide,
see that. HLbn iust made me t",.gtr but this
was
sober
,l 1Ua
Duslness.
I said, lA/on't you go and see him?,

-The

to admire knocked-through rooms, cunning cupboards and

bunk-

beds, showers, coalbunkers and greenhouses'

In the pub, the Chatterton Arms, sat ageing Teddy Boys in drape
coats, with solid sculpted quiffs like ships' prows' There were a few
vicious Rockers too, in studded leather and chains, discussinS Eant-

bangs, their favourite occrrpation. And there were a couple of

skinheads with their girls, in brogues, Levi's, Crombies and braces'
A lot of them I recognized from schoot they were in the pub every
for ever, never going
night, with their d
ppies and a Paki walk
a
a*ay. They vere

'Great!'

some

and several glances

them and give
eyeball
didt
we
sure
in our direction, so I made
they might
neryous
I
was
same,
them reason to get upset. All the

in; there was

'Vanity, thy name is Charlie', was her conclusion' Charlie made no

cfort with her. Why should he? Jamila was no use to him and he
didn't want to fuck her' famila saw right through old Charlie: she
said there was iron ambition under the crushed-velvet idealism

which was still the stYle of the age.

Helen glay confirmed that not only was Charlie a little star at our
school but he was illuminating other schools too, especially girls'
schools. There were girls who followed Mustn't Grumble from gig to
gig iust to be near the boY,

All of

tape-recorders. Rare Photo

the houses had.been ,done up,. One had a

new porch,
another double_glazing, ,Georgian, windows
or a nev

until they were in tatters.

contract which the Fish had turned down, sa)nng they weren't good

74

75

door with

enough yet. When they d get good th

bands in the world, the Fish
fred-icted. I
knew this, felt this, or whether his life as
was as fucked-up and perplexed as everyone
else,s.
Iter that night, with famrnie and Helen
behind me, I rapped on the
door of Dad's roorn. There was no eslrcnse.
'Perhaps he's still on another level,,

,.ia

Hutur,.

tooked atfammie

could hear Dad snoring. Obviously:

d impatiently on the door until Dd

-"":T"H?;ffi#J:;:T:"[:

sataround his bed and he

which I now accepted as the concomitant
o wisdom.
'1" f:: in an age of doubt and uncertainty.
The old retigions
under which people
for niney-nine point nine per cent of
human history have 't:ed
decayed o.
Our problem is
"* irrete'vant.
secularism' we have repraced our spirituar
values
*iraoo, *i,
".,a
is wandering around
asking how to
le even furn to me.,

advice the time. They ask for advice when they should try to be
more avare of what is happening.'
Thanks a lot,' said lamila.
It was midnight when we took her home. Her head was bowed as
she went in. I asked her if she'd made her decision.

'Oh yes,' she said, starting up the stairs to the flat where her

parents, her torurentol , wetre lying awake in sepante Foolns, one

trying to e, the other no doub,t wishing for death. The meter in the
hall which regulated the lights was ticking louy. Helen and l staled
atfamil,a's face in the gloom for a due as to whatshe was goingto do.
Then she tuned, was shrouded in darkness, and went up to bed.
Helen said lamila would mary the boy. I said no, she'd turn him
down. But it was impossible to tell.
Helen and I dimbed into Anerley Park and lay down on ourbacks
on the Epass by the swings, and looked at the s\r, and pulled our
clothes dovrn. It was a good fuck, but huied, as Flairy Back would
be getting anxious. I wondered i we were both thinking of Charlie
as we

d it.

Dad raised his index frnger a foaion

o an inch and famila was
reluantly silent.
'I've decided this.,
We were all
'I believe ha

your intuition,

acting in accordance with duty, o

to please others. you must accept happiness

when you can, not
selfishly, but remembedng yo., u." p#of
the world, of others" not
separate from them. ST"t9 peopte" p,rr.,r"
their own h"ppi ;;;
the expense of others? Or snoUa tnuy
U"
so others can be
happy? There's no one
"r,f,uppy
this problem.,
He paused forbreath
thinking of
Eva as he said all this. I
-*"s
realizing
he would leave us. And
fereft,
(r
because I loved
him so much.
'S3,
punish yourself through selfdeniat in
the puritan way,
. the rlfoy.
in
English Christian way, there will only
be resentment and
more unhappiness., Now he looked
only at |amila. ,people
f*

"st

76

TT

CHAPTER SIX

The man walking towards England, towards

our curious eyes, and
towards the warm winter overcoat that I held
in my hands,'was not
Flaubert the writer, though he had a similar
grey moustache, two
double chins, and not much hair. Not_Flaubert
was smaller than me,
about the sarne size as Princess
feeta. But unlike her _ and the exa

every rnorning. With his good hand he shoved

forward
a trolley
loaded with two rotting suitcases, *t i"t
were saved from instant
disintegration only by thin shing and fraying
pyiama cord.
when Not-Flaubert spotted his name on thepiece

of cardboard I
was holding, he simply sropped pushing the
holley, rcft it st r,air,g
among the shoving airport crow l and walked
towards Jeeta and hi
wife-to-be, lamila.

Helen had agreed to help us out on this day of

days, and she and I

il;

sanioned by his regal nodding IP;Lffi "#';HJl;

iil
ensuring his sacred suitcases were safe from dacoits
and thugge
'Maybe he's used to servants,, I said
to Helen in a loud voic=el as I
heldthe door open for him to slide in next to
feeta and famila. Helen
and I got in front. This was a deticious moment
of revenge for me,
because the Rover belonged to Helen,s
dad, Hairy Back. Had he
were resting their dark arses on his deep
be driven by his daughter, who had only
y one of them, he wouldn,t have been a

The actual wedding was to be held the next

day, and then
T8

Changez and famila would stay at the Ritz for a couple of nights.
Today there would be a small party to welcome Changez to England.
Anwar was standing anxiously at the window of Paradise Stores
as the Rover turned into the street, stopping outside the library.
Anwar had even changed his suiq he was wearing a late r95os iob, as
opposed to the usu early r95os number. The suit was pinned and
fucked all over, for he was bony now. His nose and reekbones
protmded as never before, and he was paler than Helen, so pale that
no one could possibly call him a darkie or black bastard, though they
might legitimately have used the word bastard. He was weak and
found it fficrrlt to pick up his feet as he walked. He moved as if he
had bags of sugar tied to his ankles. And when Clrangez embraced
him in the street I thought I heard Anwa/s bones cracking' Then he
ghook Change/s hand twice and pinred his reeks. This effort
aeemed to tile Anwar.

Anwar had been extraordinarily emberant about Changez's

arrival. Perhaps it was something to do with his not having a son

and now h",rit B gained one; or perhaps he was pleased about his
victory over the r^'omen. Whatever the extent of his sel-inflied
frailty, I'd never seen him as good-tempered as he had been
recently, or as neryously loquacious. Words weren't his nahrral
medium, but these days, when I went to help out in the shop, he
inevitably took me aside - blackming me with nmos.ls, sherbet
fountains and the opportunity not to work - for an extended earbashing. I'm convinced he drew me aside, away from feeta and
famila, into the stote-room, where we sat on wooden boxes like
akiving faory workers, because he was ashamed, or at least
bashfrrl, about his unsweet viory. Recently Princess |eeta and
|amila had been in funere moods, not for a second allowing Anwar
to enjoy the pleasure of his tyranny. So all he could do, poor bastard,
was celebrate it with me. Would they never understand the fruits of
his wisdom?
Things are rely going to change round here with another man

about the place,' he told me iubilantly. The shop needs decorating. I

want some boy who can climb a ladder! Plus I need someone to carry
boxes from the wholesaler. When Changez arrives he can run the
shop with lamita. t can take that woman'- he rneant his wie -'out

somewhere beautiful.'

79

'Where beautiful will you take her, Uncle, to the opera?

I heard
there's a good produion o Rigoletto on at the
-o-"r,t.,
To an Indian restaurant that a friend of mine owns.,
'And where else beautiful?,

what looked like several sacks: long skirts, perhaps three, one ove
the other, and a long smock in faded green beneath which the flat
arcs of her braless breasts were visible to the slightly interested. She
had on her usual pair of National Health gliasses, and on her feet a
rather unrelenting pair of Dr Martens in brown, which gave the
impression that she was about to take up hill-walking. She was crazy
about these clothes, dlighted to have found an outfit she could
wear every day, wanting, like a Chinese Peasant, never to have to
think about what to put on. A simpl'e idea like this, so pical of
|amila' who had little physical vanity, d seem eccentric to other
people, and certainly made me laugh. The one person it dn'tseem
cccentric to, because he dn't notice it, was her father. He rely
knew little about lamila. [f someone had asked him who she voted
or, what the names of her women friends were, what she liked in
tie, he couldn't have answered. It was as if, in some strange way, it
was beneath his gnity to take an inte st in her. He didt see her.
There were iust certain ways in which this woman who was his
daughter had to behave.
Eventually four relatives of Anwas turned up with more drink
und food, and gifts of doth and pots. One of the men gave famila a
wig; there was a sandalwood gadand for Changez- Soon the room
was noisy and busy and animated'
Anwar was getting to know Changez. He didn't seem in the least
displeased with him, and smiled and nodded and touched him
constantly. Some time passed before Anwar noticed that his muchanticipated son-in-law wasn't the rippling physical specimen he'd
cxpected. They weren't speaking English, so I dt know exactly
what was said, but Anwar, after a glance, followed by a concemed
closer study, followed by a little step to one side for a better angle,
pointed anxiously at Changez's arm'

Changez waSSled the hand a bit and laughed without self-

consciousness; Anwar tuied to laugh too. Changez's left arm was

withered in some way, and stuck on the end of the attenuated limb
was a lump o hard flesh the size of a gol ball, a small fist, with only
a tiny thumb proiecting from the solid mass where there should
have been nimble, shop-painting, box-carrying fingers- It looked as
i Changez had stuck his hand into a ire and had had flesh, bone
and sinew melted together. Though I knew a remarkable plumber
with only a stump for a hand who worked for Uncle Ted, I couldn't
go

8r

see Changez decorating Anwarrs shop

with one arrr. In fact, had he
four Mohammed Ali arms I doub a
if he,a know what to do with a
paintbrush, or with a toothbrush for that
matter.
or entertaining minor reserantez se,emed delighted by

he said even when it was

mpared tofamila,s antipathy. Did

now moving across to her boo

Millett, staring into it for a fe

reproachful and pitying glance

ing vows with him?
lamila had phoned me thedayaterHelen andI fucked
inAnerley
Park to tell me of her decision. ihat
morning I was
*rli"-"u"",
my hiumph in seducing the dog_owne/s
"o
daughter
that I,d com_
pletely forgotten about famila'. ig
a""i"ion. She sounded stant
and cold as she told me she woul
marr}'the man h", f"th;;i;;

seleed from millions, and that was

the ena of it. She would
survive, she said. Not one more word
on the subiect

_o.rfa-J.

tolerate.

I kep thinking to myself, Typic

Jamila, thas exaly what she
would do, as if this were
that happened every day. But
"o-"thir,g
marrying Changez
out
of
perversi
:h :-"r
, I was sure of it. We
lived in rebellious and unconvention"t
tines, after . And famila
was

interested in anarchists and sifuationists

and weathermen, and
cut all that stuff out of the papers and
showed it to e. M"rrf
;

Changez would be,

in

frei mina, a rebellion against rebellion,

creative novelty itself. Everything in
her life woutt be dlsrupteJ,
experimented with. She claimed io be
doing it onty for feeta, but
there was real, wilful contrariness
in it, I suspected.
I sat next to Changez when
we started to eat. Helen watched
from
ally retching at the sight o
garland trailing in his dal, as
ing the fingers he had. Maybe
entertained by that. She dcrow
"u "'"3nffi,]"#L:#j:,J;
you know my husband
ru rraD
has rrv
never
r Ue"n
oeen rn
in contact with cutlery

before?,

But Changez rooked so arone

8z

and crose up I courd see bits of

bristle sticking out of his bay shaved face - that even I couldn't
laugh at him in my usual way. And he spoke to me so kiny, and
with such innocent enthusiasm, that I felt like sayrng toJamila, Hey,
he's not so bad!

'Will you take me on the road here to see one or two things that tr
might like to see?'
'Sr.lre, whenever you like,' I replied.
'I also like to watch cricket" We can go perhaps to Lords. I have
brought my o$rn binoculars.'
'Excellent.'
'And visit bookshops? I hear there are many establishments in the
Charing Cross Road.'
'Yes. What do you like to read?'
The dassics,' he said firmty. I saw that he had a pompous side to
him, so certain he seemed in taste and judgement. 'Yot"l like classics
too?'

'You don't mean that Greek shit? Virgtl or Dante or Homo or

something?'
'P. G. Wodehouse and Conan Doyle for rne! Can you take me to
Sherlock Holmes's house in Baker Sheet? I also like the Saint and
Mickey Spillane. And Westerns! Anything with Randolph Scott in it!
Or Gary Cooper! Or fohn Wayne!'
I said, to test hinn, There's lots of things we can do. And we can
take fannila with us.'
Without glancing at her, but filling his mouth with rice and peas
runtil his cheeks bulged - he really was a greedy gobbler - he said,
"Ihat would be much fun.'
'So you two pricks are big mates now,'Jamila hissed at me later.

Anwar had reclaimed Changez and was patiently explaining to hirn

about the shop, the wholesaler and the financial position. Changez

stood there looking out o the window and scratching his arse,
completely ignoring his father-in-law, who had no choice but to
(:arry on with his explanation. As Anwar was talking Changez
turned to him and said, 'I thought it would be much more freezing in
England than this.'
Anwar was bewildered and irritated by this non tquitur.
'But I was speaking about the price of vegetables,' said Anwar.
'What for?' asked Changez in bewilderment. 'I am mainly a meateater.'
83

VD, white woman, white woman.'Apart from this, she was angry

with |amila or marrying Changez, the sight of whom made her feel
ill. I told her to go to San Francisco.

told famila. ,Likes books.

::t"::;"T"";rryhim,then?
'Because you wanted to marry him.,

'Idon't "wan'anything but to live my life in peace.,

'You made your toice, Jammie.,
She was furious with me.
'Ah, Pah! Whatever happens ll be r,elying on you
for support and

concern.'

Downstairs in the shop Anwar was now showing Changez

around. As Anwar pointed and explained and waved at trns and
packets and bottles and brushes, Changez nodded like a bright but
naughty schoolboy humouring the eager cuator of a museum but
taking nothing in. Changez didn't seem ready to take over the

running of Paradise Stores. Spotting

nne leaving, he

hurried over

and took my hand.

'Remember, bookshops, bookshops!'
He was sweating, and the way he held on to me incated that he
didt want to be left alone.
'^A,nd please,' he sd, 'call me by *y nickname - Bubble.'
'Bubble?'
'Bubble. Yes, and yours?'

'Creamy.'

'Goodbye, Creamy.'
'Goodbye, Bubble.'
outside, Helen had the Rover roaring and the rao on. I heard
my favourite lines from Abbey Ru/l. 'Soon we'll be away from here,
$tcp on the gas and wipe that tear away.' To my surprise Eva's car
was also parked outside the library. And Dad was holding the door
open. He was buoyant today, but also edry and more authoritative
than I'd seen him for ages, when mostly he'd been gloomy and
nulky. It was as if he'd made up his mind about something yet was
rrot sure if it was the right thing to do. So instead of being relaxed
rrtrd content, he was tenser and less tolerant than ever.
'(let in,' he said, pointing to the back seat of Eva's car.
'What for? Where are we going?'
'fust get in. I'm your dad, aren't I? Haven't I always taken care of
y<tu?'

'Whas going on?, I asked Helen. ,What are you

so fed up about?,
'one of Anwar/s relatives was behaving weiry
towards

me,, she

said.

Apparently, whenever she'd gone crose to this

man he,d shooed
her away, recoiling from her anJ mutterin
g, ,pork,pork, pork, VD,
84

'No. And is like

lhis evening.'

I'rn being taken prisoner. I said I'd be with

Helen

'But don't you want to be with Eva? You like Eva. And Charlie's
wuiting at home. He really wants to discuss one or two things with
you.'
Eva smiled at me from the drives seat. 'Kiss, kiss,' she said' I
85

knew I was going to be deceived. The/re so stupid, grown-ups,

thinking you can't see through every fucking tfring thei ao.
I went to Helen and told her that somehing heavy
was happen_

ing,

wasn't sure what it was, but I had to reave her now. she kissed

me and drove away. All d"y I,d felt calm, though aware that

everything in famila's life had changed; and now, or, tt u same

day,
if I was right about the looks on the two facas in the car
with me, the

same thing was going to happen to me. I waved at Helen,s

car, I
don't know why. But I never saw her again. I tiked her, we
were
starting to to out, then this happened and I never saw
her again.
Sitting behind Eva and Dad in ttte cat, watting trreir
nlnas
constantly fluttering towards each other, you dn,ihave
to be a
genius to see they wele a couple. Her,e before me were
two people in
love, oh yes. And as Eva drove, Dad dn,t take his
n".

"y"r'r-i

face.

This woman I barely knew, Eva, had stolen my father.

But what
d I rey think o her? I hadn,t even looked at -her property.

This new part of my life wasn,t a wornrn who wor-ild

s"em
attraive straighton in a passport photograph. She had
no conventional beauty, her feafures tere not exquisitely proportioned
and
her face was a bit chubby. But she was lovely becauseihe
round face
with the straight dyed-blonde hair, which fell over her forehead
and
into her eyes, was open. Her face was constantlyin
motion, and this
was the source of her beauty. Her face registered the
slightest
feeling, concealing little. Sometimes she became chitdlike.r'
yo,,

corrld see her at eight or seventeen or twenty_five.

The different ages
of her life seemed to exist simultaneously, as if she

could
f
a8e to age according to how she elt. There was
^
no cold^oo.
nnaturity

about her, thank Christ. She could be pretfy serious

and hones,
_T"$h, explaining hurt and pain as i we were atl openly human
like her, and not screwed-up and secretive and tricky.
That time
she'd told me how lonely and abandoned she felt wren
she was
with her husband, those confessional words, ,lonely and
aban_
doned', which usually would have me cringing alt over
the place,
made me shiver.
When she was ecstatic, and she was often ecstatic,
ecstasy flew
from her face like the sun from a mirror. She was
living ou#ardly,
towards you, and her face was always watchable
because she *.
36

rarely bored or dull. She dn't let the world bore her. And she was
aome talker, old Eva.
Her talk wasn't vague approbation or disapproval, some big show
of emotion. I didn't say that. There were facts, solid and chewable as
bread, in this feeling. She'd explained to me the origin of the Paisley
pattern; I had the history of Notting Hill Gate, the use of a camera

tlbscura by Vermeer, vhy Charles Lamb's sister murdered their

tnother, and a history of Tamla Motown. I loved this stuf; I wrote it
down. Eva was unfolding the world for me. It was through her that I
bccame interested in life'
Dad, I reckon, was slightly intimidated by her. Eva was cleverer
tlran he was, and more capable of feeling. He hadn't encountered
lhis much passion in a woman before. It was part of what made him
want and love Eva. Yet this love, so compelling, so fascinating as it
grcw despite everything, had been leading to destruction'
I could see the erosion in the foundations of our family every day'
tivcry day when Dad came home from work he went into the
lrr,r;;roo^ and didn't come out. Recently he'd encouraged Aliie and
ttt to talk to him. We sat in there '.'ith hin and told him about
qr'lrool. I suspected he liked these ink-stained accounts because,
wlrile our voices illed the room like smoke, he could lie back
rrrrrecaled in its swathes and think of Eva' Or we sat with Mum and
w,rlched television, braving her constant irritation and sighs of selfdriPPing, weakening and preparing
Plty. And all the time, like pipes
house hearts were slowly breaking
the
around
the
attic,
in
io lrurst
said.
being
was
whilc nothing
tn stlme ways it vas !\rorse for little Allie, as he had no facts about
allything. For him the house was illed with suffering and fluffed
ll(.nrPts to pretend that suffering didn't exist. But no one talked to
Irlirr No one said, Mum and Dad are unhappy together. He must
lrrrvt, been more confused than any of us; or perhaps his ignorance
grrt.vcnted him from grasping just how bad things were. Whatever
wirs happening at this time, we were all isolated from each other'

Whcn we arrived at her house, Eva put her hand on my shoulder

.rntl told me to go upstairs to Charlie. 'Because I know that's what
you want to do. Then come down. We have to discuss something
irnportant.'

As I went upstairs I thought how much I hated being shoved

87

-*
around over the place. Do this, do that,
8o here, go there. I would
be leaving home pretty soon, I knew that' wr,y
uan,t they get
down to the important stuff right away? At til top
of tne stairi t
turned for a moment and found out. Eva and my faiher
were going
into the front room, hand-in-hand, and they were rearing
forLch
other low down, and clutring, tongues out,
Pressed against each
other even before they'd got through the door. I heard
it lock behind
them. They couldn,t even wt half an hour.
I poked my head through Charlie,s trapdoor. The
place had
changed a lot since last time. charrie's poetry books,
his sketches,
his cowboy boots, were lung about. Tile cupboards
and drawers
were open as if he were packing. He was leaving
and altering. For a

liked. Now the Fish was sprawled

as Charlie talked an
with his hair. As Ch
ieans or a wide-collared shit wi
James Harvest album, and toss d
garden below.
'lt's riculous the way people are appointed
to jobs,, Charlie was
myrng. 'Surely it should happen at iindom? people
in the sheet
must be approared and told that they are
now editor of The Times
for a month. Or that they are to be judies,
or police commissioners,
or toilet attendants. It has to be arbitrary.
There can be no connection
between the appointment and the person
unless it is their utter
unsuitability for the position. Don,t you agre?,
'Without exception?, enquired the Fish,Lnguiy.

'Hey, little one,' he said. 'Come here. We might as well be mates.

ljrom what I hear we'll be seeing a lot o each other''
So I clambered up through the hole and went to him'. He bent
orward to put his arms around me. He held me fondly, but it was a
characteristic gesture, iust as he was always telling people he loved
them, using the same tone of voice with each of them. I wanted to
smash through all that craP.
I reached round and got a good handful of his arse. There was
plenty of it, too, and lust perky enough for me. When, as predicted,
he iumped in surprise, I whipped rny hand through his legs, g"ing
his whole beanbag a good tug. He was laughing and wincing even as
he threw me across the room into his dmm-kit.
l lay there, hatf crying and pretenng not to be hurt, as Charlie
rrrntinued to pace, ninging flowered dothes into the street below
and discussing the possibility of a police force being set up to arrest
rrnd imprison rock guitarists who bent their knees while they
played.
A few minutes later, downstairs, Eva was next to me on the sofa,

position' These are people who run for buses

and put their hands"in
their pockets to ensure their change doesn,t jump
out. There are
other people who have sun-tans that leave
white patches on thJ
arms. These people should be excluded, because
tfreyU Ue punished
in special camps.,
Charlie then said ,o
though I thought he hadn,t noriced
me,
'I'll iust be down,, as ifT::
I,d
ed thi't his taxi was waiting.
".r,o.rr,,
I must have looked wounded, because
Charlie broke a little.

bathing my forehead and whispering, 1ou silly boys, you silly

hrys.' Charlie sat sheepishly opposite me and God was getting
lranky next to him. Eva's shoes were off and Dad had removed his
jat'ket and tie. He'd planned this summit carefully, and now the Zen
rl the entire thing had gone crazy, because lust as Dad opened his
nuruth to start talking blood had started to drip into my laP from my
nose as a result of Charlie chucking me into his drum-kit.
Dad started off in statesman-like fashion, as if he were addressing
thc United Nations, earnestly saying he'd come to love Eva over the
time he'd known her and so on. But soon he took off from the earthly
lcdiousness of the concrete for a glide in purer air. 'We cling to the
past,' he said, 'to the old, because'we are afraid. I've been afraid of
hurting Eva, of hurting Margaret, and most of hurting myself.' This
sluff was really getting on my nerves. 'Our lives become stale, they
lrecome set. We are afraid of the new, of anything that might make
lls gow or change.' All this was making my muscles feel slack and
unused, and I wanted to sPrint uP the street iust to feel myself alive
again. 'But that is living death, not life, that is - '
This was enough for me. I intermpted. 'D'you ever think how
boring all this stuff is?'
There was silence in the room, and concern. Fuck it- 'It's all vague

88

89

'Y:.

A"*

are people who should be excluded from

high

and meaningless, Dad. Hot air, you know., They watched me. ,How
can people just talk because they like the sound of.their own voices
and never think of the people around them?,
?lease,' Eva begged, ,don,t be so rude as to not let your father

finish
what he's started.'
Right on,' Charlie said.
Dad said, and it must have cost him a lot to say so rittle after he,d
been put down by me, ,I,ve decided I want to be with Eva.,
And they atl tumed and looked at me compassionately. ,What

about us?'I asked.

1es, you'll be provided for financially and we'll see eaclr
other
whenever you like. You love Eva and Ctrarlie. Think, you,re gaining

a family.'

'And Mum? Is she gaining a family?,

Dad got up and put his iacket on- ,I'm going to speak to her
right

now.'

home to end our lives together. Eva

and talked about other things. I don,t
, but I ran out of the house and walked

CHAPTER SEVEN

Life goes on tediously, nothing happens for months, and then one

day everything, and I mean everything, goes fucking wild and

berserk. When I got home Mum and Dad were in their bedroom
together and poor little Allie was otrtside banging on the door like a

ive-year-old. I pulled him away and tried to get him upstairs in case
he was traumatized for lie, but he kicked me in the balls.
Almost imrnediately the heart-ambulance arrived: Auntie fean
and Uncle Ted, While Urtde Ted sat outside in the carfean charged
straight into the bedroorn, pr.lshing me aside as I tried to Prote my
parenfs' privary. She shouted orders at me.
Within forty minutes Mum was ready to leave. Auntie lean had
packed for her while I packed for Allie. They assumed I'd go to
Chislehurst with them, but t said fd turn up later on my bike; I'd
lnake rny ovn arrangenents. I knew I'd be going nowhere near
thern. What could be worse than moving to Chislehurst? Even for
two days I wouldn't be able to bear the sight of Auntie fean first
thing in the morning, without her make-up on, her face blank as an
c88, as she had Prunes, kippers and cigarettes for breakast and
rnade me drink Typhoo tea. I knew she'd abuse Dad all day too. As it

was, Allie was crying and yelling, 'Bugger off, you Buddhist
bastard!' as he left with Mum and fean'

So the three of them bundled out, their faces full of tears and fear
and pain and anger and shouting. Dad yelled at them, 'Where are
you all going? What are you leaving the house for? fust stay here!'
but fean just told him to shut his big gob.
The house was silent, as i no one had been there. Dad, who had

been sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, went into
action. He wanted to get out too' He stuffed his shoes and ties and
books into every plastic bag I could ind before stopping himself, as
he realized it was undignified to disfigure the house before desefing
it.

'Forget it,' he said. 'Let's take nothing, eh?'

90

91.

I liked that idea: it seemed aristocratic to me,

iust walking out
empty-handed as if we were above all objes.
Eventually Dad phoned Eva to say the coast was clear. She came
tentatively into the house, as warrn and gentle as anything, and she
took Dad out to the car. Then she asked rne what I was going to do
and I had to say I wanted to go with her. She didn't flinh as I
expected her to. She just said, 'oK,
8et you things, it'll be lovety to
have you. We're all going to have a terrific time together, you k ,o*
that, don't you?'
So I got about twenty records, ten packets of tea, Tropic of Cancer
and on the Rud, and the plays of rennessee wilriams, and oif I went
to live with Eva. And Charlie.

That night
Before getting
into bed I we
room, where I
hadn't been before. The bath was in the centre of the room, with an
old-fashioned brass spigot. There were candles around the edge of it
and an old aluminium bucket beside it. And on the oak shelve were
nows of lipsticks and blushers, eye-make-up removers, cleansers,
moisttrrizers, hair-sprays, creamy soaps for soft skin, sensitive skin
and normal skin; soaps in exotic wrappings and pretty boxes; there
were sweet-peas in a jam-jar and an egg_cup, rose_petals in Wedg_

wood saucers; there were bottles of perfirme, cotton wool, con_

ditioners, hair-bands, hair-slides and shampoos. It was confusing:

such self-attention repelled me, and yet it represented a world f
sensuality, of smell and touch, of indulgence and feeling, which
aroused me like an unexpected caress as I undressed, rit th; candres
and got into the bath in this room of Eva,s.
Later that night she came into my room in her kimono, bringing
me a glass of champagne and carrying a book. I told her she tooke

going to be.'

'Whas that book?' I said.

'Let's think about that, then.'

Eva sat down on the edge of the bed and read meThe Selfsh Giant,
dramatizing alt the characters and imitating a smug vicar at the
nr:ntimental end of the story. She didn't try overhard, she just
wanted to let me know I was secure with her, that the break-up of
my parents' marriage wasn't the worst thing that ever happened,
nnd that she had enough love to cover us all. She was strong and
confident now. She read for a long time, and I had the bonus of
knowing my father was waitng impatiently to fuck her again on this
night of nights which was really their honeymoon. I thanked her
gratefully, and she said, 'But you're beautiful, and the beautiful
rhould be given everything they want.'
'Hey, what about the ugly ones?'
The ugly ones.' She poked her tongue out. 'Is tlreir fault i
lhey're ugly. The/re to be blamed, not pitied.'
I laughed at this, but it made me think of where Charlie may have
lnherited some of his cnrelty. When Eva had gone and I lay for the
lrst time in the same house as Charlie and Eva and my father, I
thought about the difference between the interesting people and the
nice people. And how they can't always be identical. The interesting
r'ere unusual, you saw
;rcople you wanted to be with - their minds
things freshly with them and all was not deadness and'repetition. I
krnged to know what Eva made of things, what she thought of
trrmila, say, and the marriage of Changez. I wanted her opinion- Eva
crluld be snobby, that was obvious, but i I saw something, or heard
n piece of music, or visited a place, I wouldn't be content until Eva
had made me see it in a certain way' She came at things from an
,rngle; she made connections. Then there were the nice people who
wcren't interesting, and you dn't want to know what they thought
of anything. Like Mum, they were good and meek and deserved
nrore love. But it was the interesting ones, like Eva with her hard,
laking edge, who ended up with everything, and in bed with my
lather.
When Dad moved in with Eva, andJamila and Changez moved into
lheir flat, there were five places for me to stay: with Mum at Auntie
tr.an's; at our now empty house; with Dad and Eva; with Anwar and
lccta; or with Changez and famila. I finally stopped going to school
93

-s
r'

when Charlie did, and Eva arranged for me to go to a college where I

could finish my A levels. This college seemed as if it was going to be
the best thing that happened to me.
The teachers looked the same as the
was
equal, ha, ha, though I made a fool of
male

smashed on mattresses in ruined houses rather than working ia the

machine. I didn't vant to work in a place where I couldn't wear my
fur coat.

to come a time when I broke the news to him that the education
system and I had split up. It would break his immigrant heart, too.
But the spirit of the age among the people I knew manifested itself as
general drift and ieness. We didn't want money. What for? We
could get by, living off parents, friends or the State. And if we were
going to be bored, and we were usually bored, rarely being self_
motivated, we could at least be bored on our own terms, lying

Anyway, there was plenty to observe - oh yes, I was interested in

life. I was an eager witness to Eva and Dad's love, and even more
fascinated by Changez and Jamila, who were, can you believe, living
together in South London.
|amila and Changez's lat, rented by Anwar, was a two-roorn box
affair near the Catford dog track. It had minimal busted furniture,
yellow walls and a gas fire. The one bedroom, which contained a
double mattress covered by an Indian bedspread with swirling
colours, was famila's room. At the end of the bed was a small cardtable which Changez bought for her as a wedding present; I'd
carried it back from a local junk shop. There was a Liberty-Pattern
tablecloth over it, and I bought famila a white vase in which there
were always daffodils or roses. She kept her pens'and pencils in a
peanut-butter jar. Also on the table and piled up around her on the
floor were her post-Miss Cutmore booksl the'classics'as she cled
them - Angela Davis, Baldwin, Malcolm X, Greer, Millett. You
weren't supposed to stick anything on the walls, but famila had
pinned up poems by Christina Rossetti, Plath, Shelley and other
vegetarians, which she copied out of library books and read when
she stretched her legs by taking a few steps around the tiny room.
On a sticking-out piece of board nailed to the windowsill was her
tape-recorder. From breakfast until the three of us cracked late-night
beers, the place grooved to Aretha and the other mamas. famila
rrever closed the door, so Changez and I drank and looked through
at our |amila's concentrating-so-hard profile, head bowed, as she
rt'ad and sang and wrote in old school exercisebooks. Like me, she'd
run right out on all that 'old, dull, white stuff' they taught you at
school and college. But she wasn't lazy, she was educating herself.
She knew what she wanted to leam and she knew where it was; she
;ust had to shovel it all into her head. Watching famila sometimes
rrrade me think the world was divided into three sorts of people:
llrose who knew what they wanted to do; those (the unhappiest)
who never knew what their purpose in life was; and those who
lound out later on. I was in the last category, I reckoned, which
,lidn't stop me wishing I'<l been bom into thfist.
ln the living room there were two armchairs and a table to eat take-

94

95

teachers sir and females miss. It was

the

been

in a classroom with girls, and I got in with a bad bunch of women.

I had a lot of spare time, and from leading a steady Me in my

bedroom with my radio, and with rny parents downstairs, I now

o steel chars with puhid white plastic

a low camp-bed covered in brown

first, Jamila insisted, Changez slept.

There was no discussion of this, and Changez didn,t
demur at the
crucial moment when something could _ maybe _ have
been done.

That was how it was going to be between them, just

as she made him
sleep on the floor beside their honymoon bed in
the Ritz.

While )amila worked in her room, Changezlay joyously

on the
his good arm suspending a papeibact auove hi,
one of
1amp-bed,
his 'specials', no doubt. ,Thi_s or e i' ".y extra-special,,
he,d say,
tossing aside yet another Spillane ortames Haey
Chase o. H"rod

Robbins'

think

a rot of the

big trouble which rou, to happen started

with me F i.g Changez Harold Robbins to read, because

it
way that Conan Doyle never did. If you
e people, just look at Changez, because

s in the sex line suddenly occurred to him,

a man recently married and completely celibate
who saw Britain as

we saw Sweden: as the goldmine of sexual opporfunity.

But before

all the
all,

other

Changez

Anwar had so enfeebled himself on the Gandhidiet

in order to get
Changez to Britain in the first place.
To start off Changez,s career in the grocery business,
Anwar

.
instructe
one arn
Changez

you could get by with only

ar was very patient witr

ur-year-old, -ru"n
-", the righi

thing to do- But Changez was far smaftr than Anwar.

He made s re
he was hopeless at wrapping bread and gtvint
change. He couldn,t
manage the arithmetic. There were queues at the till,
nfil customers
started walking out. Anwar suggested he come back
to till_work
another time. Anwar would find him something
else to do to get him
in the grocery mood.
So Changez's new job was to sit on a three-legged
stool behind

vegetable section and watch for shop_lifters.

the

Itas elementaDn you

that back, you fu.ki";

saw them stealing and you screamed, ,put

thieving tom-cat!' But Anwar hadn't catered for the
fact thai

Changez had mastered the supreme art of sleeping sitting

up. famila

told me that one day Anwar came into tn"

96

ino analiscove.ea

Changez snoring as he sat on his stool, while in ront of his dosed

cyes an SL was shoving aiar o herrings down his trousers- Anwar
blew up all over the place. He picked up a bunch of bananas and
threw them at his son-in-law, hitting him so hard in the chest that

Changez toppled off his stool and badly bruised his good arm.

Changez lay writhing on the floor, unable to get uP. Finally Princess
Jeeta had to help Changez leave the shop. Anwar bellowed atleeta
and famila and even yelled.gt me. I just laughed at Anwar, as we all
did, but no one dared say the one tnre thing: it was his own fault-

pitied him.
His despair became obvious. He was moody the time, with a
flashing temper, and when Changez was at home, nursing his bad
arm, Anwar came to me as I worked in the store-room. Hd alrcady
lost any respect or hope he'd once had for Changez. 't/has that
ucking at useless bastard doing now?' he enquired. 'Is he better
yet?' 'He's reorperatin&' I said. 'I'll recrrperate his fucking balls with
a fucking flame-thrower!' said Unde Anwar. 'Perhaps I will phone
the Nation Front and give them Change/s name, eh? What a good
I

ldea, eh!'

Meanwhile Changez was getting better and be$er at lying on

camp-beds, reading paperbacks and strolling around town with me.

l'Ie was always up to any advenfure that dn't involve working at
tills or sitting on three-legged stools. And because he was slightly
tlim, or at least vulnerable and kind and easily led, being one of the
ew people I could mock and dominate with impunity, we became
mates. He'd follow me where I fancied, as I avoided my education.

Unlike everyone else he thought me quite deviant. He was

shocked when I took off my shirt in the street to get some damn 5un
on my tits. 'You .!e very daring and non-conormist, y04t,'he often

said. 'And look how you dress, like a gypsy vagabond. What does
your father say? Doesn't he scipline you very hard?'
'My fathes too busy with the vornan he ran off with,' I replied,
'to think about me too much.'
'Oh God, this whole country has gone sexually insane,' he said.
'Your father should go back home for some years and take you with
him. Perhaps to a remote village.'
Changez's disgust at everyday things inspired me to show him
South London. I wondered how long he'd take to get used to it, to
become, in other words, conupt. I was working on it. We wasted
97

days and days dancing in the pink pussy Club, yawning at Fat
Mattress at the Croydon Greyhound, ogling shippers on Sunday
mornings in a pub, sleeping through Godard and Antonioni ilms,

and enioying the fighting at Millwall Football Ground, where I

forced Changez to wear a bobble-hat over his face in case the lads

saw he was a Paki and imagined I was one too.

Financially Changez was supported by famila, who paid for

everything by working in the shop in the evenings. And i netp"a
him out with money I got ftom Dad. Changez,s brother sent him
money, too, which was unusual, because it should have been the
other way round as Changez made his way in the affluent West, but
I was sure celebrations in tndia at changez's departure were still
taking place.
Jamila was soon in the felicitous position of neither liking nor
disliking her husband. It amused her to think she carried ot
if h"
weren't there. But late at night the two of them liked to play"rcards,
and she'd ask him about India. He told her tales of run-away wives,
too_sml dowries, adultery amont the rir of Bombay (wch took

many evenings) and, most delicious, political cormption. He,d

obviously picked up a few tips from the paperbacks, because he
spun these stories out like a kid pulling on chewing-gum. He was
good at them, linking all the stories together with more gum and
spit, rentroducing the charaers with, aou know that bad-bad man

In furn he made the polite mistake o asking her what she believed
socially and politically. one morning she laid the Prison Notebook o
Gramsci on his chest, not realizing that his addiion to paperbacks

wasn't entirely undiscriminating. ,Why haven,t you read this if

you're so interested?' she rallenged him weeks later.

'Because I prefer to hear it from your mouth., And he did want to
hear it from her mouth. He wanted to watch his wie's mouth move
because it was a mouth he'd come to appreciate more and more. It
was a mouth he wanted to get to know.
One day, while we were roaming around iunk shops and the
Paperback Exchange, Changez took my arm and forceme to face
98

him, whir was never a pleasant sight- He made himself say to me at

last, after weeks of thering like a frightened ver on a rock ,'Vyou
think my }ammie will ever go in bed with me? She is my wie, after

all. I amsuggesting no illegality. Please, you've known her all your

tife, what is your tme and honest estimation of my chances in this
respect?'
Your wife? fn bed with You?'

'Yes.'
'No chance.'
'What?'
'No way, Changez.'
He coJan't accePt it. I etaborated. 'She wouldt touch you with
asbestos gloves on.'
'Why? Please be frank, as you have been until now on every other
matter. Even vulgar, Kaim, which is your wont"
'Yore too ugly for her.'
'Really? My face?'
'Your face. Your body. The whole lot. Yuk''
'Yes?'At that moment I glimpsed myself in a shop window and
was pleased with what I saw. I had no iob, no education, and no

prospes, but I looked Pr tty good, oh yes' ]amila's a quality

person, you know that.'
'I would like to have children with my wie"
t shook my head. 'Out of the question.'
This children issue was not trivial for changez the Bubble. There
Irad been a horrible incident recently which must have remained on
his mind. Anwar asked changez and me to wash the floor of the
shop, thinking that perhaps I could successfully supervise him'
S,rrely this couldn't go wrong? I was doing the scrubbing and
Charr15ez was miserably holng the bucket in the deserted shop and
rsking me if I had any more Harold Robbins novels he could borrow.
'fhen Anwar tumed up and stood there watching us work' Finally
he made up his mind about something: he asked Changez about
famila and how she was. He asked Changez if Jamila was 'expect-

i.B'.

'Expeing what?' said Changez.

'My bloody grandson!' said Anwar. Changez said nothing, but
shuffled backwards, away from the fire o Anwa1s blazing contempt, which was fuelled by bottomless disappointment'
99

'Surely,' said Anwar to me, ,surely there must be something

between this donkey,s legs?,

'HernameisShinko,'hetoldmehappilyaswewalkedbacktothe

fly
flat. The tail of Changez's shirt was sticking out of his unbuttoned
like a small white flag- I decided not to inform him of this'

'A prostitute, eh?'

,Don,t be not.nice!
cold England for me!'

A friend now. Another friend in unfriendly

described to the TbY

are solved! I can love
in the unusual way! Lend me a pound, will you, please? I want to
buy tamila some chocolates!'

The silence was ominous; it seemed piled up and ready to fall on me'

abused me? I suddenly felt nauseous with anger and humiliation

'In what case?'

'Of

lhe

must do.'

ugliness you so helpfulty mention. There is something

I

up and see her? I had to carry on walking'

I knew it did me good to be reminded of how much I loathed the
suburbs, and that I had to continue my iourney into London and a
new lie, ensuring I got away from people and streets like this'
Mum had taken to her bed in fean's place on the day she left our
house, an she hadn't 8ot uP since. But Ted was oK: I was looking
forward to seeing him. He had completely changed, Allie told me;
Ted had lost his life in order to 6nd it. So Ted was Dad's triumph; he
really lvas someone Dad had freed.
101

Uncle Ted had done absolutety nothing since the day Dad
exorcized him as he sat with a record-player in his lap. Now Ted
didn't have a bath or get up until eleven o,clock, when he read the
paper until the pubs were open. The afternoons he spent out on long
walks or in South London attending classes on metation. In the
evenings he refused to talk - this was a vow of silence and once a
week he fasted for a day. He was happy, or happier, apa ftom the
fa that nothing in life had much meaning foi him. But at least he
recognized this now and was looking into it. Dad had told him to

Ted's whole hammock behaviour, his conversion to Ted-Buddh_

ism, as Dad called it, incensed Auntiefean. She wanted to cut down

'he had none. There was nothing under

him but thin air and the
abyss of bankruptry. But Ted just smiled and said, "This is my last
chance to be happy, I can't muff it, Jeanie.' Once Auntie
fean did ap
through to raw feeling by mentioning the numerous virtues of her
former Tory boy, but Ted retaliated by saying (one evening during
his vow of silence), 'That boy soon saw the light as far u-s you,.
concerned, didn't he?'
When I got to the house Ted was singing a pub song and he

practically bundled me into a cupboard to discuss his iavourite

want to do it, don't we? Just cut and run. But who tl.cs it? No one _

,cept your dad. d like to see him. Discuss it in detail' But it's against
As
ttre tiw in this house to see him. You can't even talk about it.'

Auntie fean entered the hall from the living room Ted pressed a
finger to his lips. 'Don't say a word."About what, Uncle?"About

any bloody thing!'

.,.', toduy Auntie tean was straight-backed and splendid in high
heels and a dark-blue dress with a diamond brooch in the shape of a
diving fish pinned to her front. Her nails were perfect little bright
sheilsl She shone so brightly she could have been freshly painted;
you wee afraid that if you
She seemed readY to attend
smeared her liPs on cheeks
and biscuits and cocktail stis untilbarelya foot of the room was not
decorated in red. But there wene no more parties in that house of the

temporary suspension of essential pleasure?

'It's you, is it?' said Auntie lean.
'l s'pose it is, Yeah.'
"Where've you been?'
'At college- Thas why I stay other places' To be near college''
'Oh yes, I bet. Pull the other one, Karim"
'Allie's here, isn't he?'
She turned away. 'Allis a good boy, but he dresses up a lot'
doesn't he?'

Yeah, he was always one for tllre outr''

'He's changing his clothes three times a day' ls gl-lish"
'Very girlish.'
'I think he plucks his eyebrows too,' she said firmly'
'Well, he's hairy, Auntie fean. Thas why they all call him

Coconut at school-'
,Men are supposed to be hairy, Karim. Hirsuteness is a characteristic o real men.'
'You've been a big detective lately, haven't you, Auntie lean?
Have you thought of applying for the police force?' I said, as I went
upstairs. Good old Allie, I thought to myself'
I
I never bothered much about Allie, and most o the time I forgot
103

even had a brother. I

forbeingwellbhave

Ikeptawayfromhim

jj"T$Tj.::
,tfindoutwhat

I was up to. But for once I was grateful he was around, both as
company for Mum and as an irritant for Auntie fean.
I'm probably not compassionate or anything, I bet I,m a real

bastard inside and don't care for anyone, but I fucking hated
treading up those stairs to Mum, especialty with
tean at the-bottom

watching my every step. She probably had nothing else to do.

'If you was down here,, she said, ,I,d bloody slap you or your
cheek.'
'What cheek?'
The bloody cheek you've Bot inside of you. Ail of it.,
'Shut up, will you,'I said.
'Karim.' She nearly strangled on her own anger. ,Karim!,
'Get lost, Auntie fean,' I said.
'Buddhist bastard,'
the lot of you.,
I went in to Murn.
shouting t me but I
couldn't make out an
Auntie fean's spare room, in which Mum lay curled up in her pink
nightie, her hair unbrushed, had one entire wall made of mirrored

her to give herself over to the view of life that underlay all this, the
philosophy that pinned her to the shadow-corners of the world' For
Mum, life was fundamentally hell. You went blind, you got raped,
people forgot your birthday, Nixon got elected, your husband fled
with a blonde from Beckenham, and then you got old, you couldn't
walk and you died. Nothing good could come of things here below'
While this view could equally have generated stoicism, in Mum's
case it led to self-pity. So I was surprised when at last she started to
draw me, her hand moving lightly over the Page once more, her
eyes flickering with some interest at last. I sat there as still as I could.
When she pulled herself out of bed and went to the batfuoom,
instruing me not to look at the sketch, I got the rance to examine
it.

'Sit still,' she moaned, when she'd returned and started again' 'I
can't get you eyes ight.'
How could I make her understand? Maybe I should say nothing'

ButIwasarationist.
'Mum,' I said.'You've been looking at me, your eldest son, Karim'
But that pictrrre - and is a grcat picture, not too hairy - is of Dad,
isn't it? Thas his big nose and double chin. Those bags under his
eyes are his suitcases - not mine. Mum, thas just not anything like
my face.'

coming in and saying, ' 'Ere, Marge, have a nice bit of fish with some
bread and butter.' But he ended up eating it himsel.

I was reluctant to kiss my mother, afraid that somehow her

weakness and unhappiness would infect me. Naturally I didn,t
think for a minute that my life and spirit could stimulate her.

while,
'specials',
man falling in love wi
We sat for a

description of

Changez's

spectacle of a
terest. If other

couldn't cheer her up, nothing would. Her

ass, and all life slid from its sheer aspect. I

'No, Karim, not today,' she sighed.

went on and on at her: draw me, draw me, draw me, Mummyl I
railed against her. I was pretty angry and everything. l didn,t wnt
I

ao4

"Well, dear,' fathers and sons come to resemble each other, don't
they?' And she gave rne a significant look. 'You both left me, dn't
you?'
'I haven't left you,' I said. 'I'm here wheneve you need me' I'm
studying, thas all.'
Yes, I know what you're sfudying.' Is funny how often my
family were sarcastic about me and the things I was doing. She said,
'I'm all on my own. No one loves me"
Yes they do.'
'No, no one helps me. No one does anything to help me"
'Mum, I love you,' I said. 'Even if I don't act like it all the time''

'No,' she said.

kissed her and held her and tried to get out of the house without
saying goodbye to anyone. I crept downstairs and was outside and
successfully making for the front gate whenTed sprinted around the
I

side of the house and grabbed me. He must have been lurking,
waiting.
105

Tell yer dad we all appr,eciate what'e's done. He's done a big

buckerrl for me!'

'All right, I'll do that,' I said, pulling away.

Don't forget.'

'No, no.'
I almost ran back to South London, to famila's place. I made

myself a pot of mint tea and sat silently at the living-room table. My

mind was in hrruroil. I tried to stra mysel by concenrating on

|amita. She sat at her desk as usu, her face

illuminad

by the reap

reading light beside her. A big j- of purple wild flowers and

eucallphrs stood on the to'p of a pile of library books. When you
think of the people you adore thele ale usuy moments you can
choose - afternoons, whole weeks, perhaps- when they are at their

best, when youth and wisdom, beauty and poise combine perfectty.

And as lamila sat there humming and reading, absorbed, with

Changez's eyes also poring over her as he lay on his H sumounded

by'specials'covered in fluff, with cricket
and halfeaten
packets of biscuits around him, I felt this was famila's ultimate
moment of herselness. I, too, could have sat the like a fan
watching an actress, like a lover watring his beloved, content not to
be thinking about Mum and what we could do about her. Is there
anything you can do about anyone?
Changez let me finish my tea; my anxiety dissipaH a little. Then
he looked at me.

'OK?'he said.
'OKwhatT

Changez dragged his body from his campbed like someone

trying to wk with five footballs under their arrrs. lCome on., He
pulled me into the tiny kitchen.
'Listen, Katil,' he whispered. t must go out this afternoon.'

knees. The man behind. So you stay here and keep famila distracted.'
'Dishact famila?' I laughed. 'Bubble, she doesn't care if you're
here or not. She doesn't care where you are.'
'What?'
'Why should she, Changez?'
'OK, OK,' he said defensively, backing away. 'I see.'
I went on needling him. 'Speaking of positions, Changez, Anwar
has been in the asking-after-your-health-position recently.' Fear and
dismay came instantly into Changez's face. It was heaven to see.
This wasn't his favourite subiect. 'You look shit-scared, Changez.'
That fucker, my father-in-law, will ruin my erection or the whole
day,' he said. 'I better scoot.'
But I secured him by his stumP and went on. 'I'm sick of him
whining to me about you. You've got to do something about it.'
That bastard, what does he think I am, his servant? I'm not a
shopkeeper. Business isn't my best side, yaar, not my best. I'm the
intellectual type, not one of those uneducated immigrant types who
come here to slave all day and night and look dirty. Tell him to
remember that.'
'OK, I'll tell him. But I warn you, he's going to write to your father
and brother and tell them what a completely atlazy ars you are,
Changez. I'm telling you this with authority because he's made me
typi" monitor in the matter.'
He grasped my arrn. Alarm tightened his feafures. 'For Chriss
sake, no! Steal the letter if you can. Please.'
'I'll do what I can, Changez, because I love you as a brother.'
'Me too, eh?'he said affuctionately.
It was hot, and I lay naked on my back with Jamila beside me on the

leah?'
'Yes.'

b d. fd opened all

He tried to move his pompous features significantly. Whatever he

you, is there?'
'Shhh. Out with my friend Shinko,'he said confidenrially. ,She,s
taking me to the Tower of London. Then there's new positions I've
been reading about, yaar. Pretty wild and all, with the woman on her

street. |amila asked nne to touch her and I rubbed her beween the
lels with Vaseline according to her instructions, like 'Harde and
'More effort, please' and 1es, but you're making love not cleaning
your teeth.' With my nose tickling her ear I asked, 'Don't you care
for Changez at all?'
I think she was surprised that such a question could occur to me.
'He's sweet, Changez, it's true, the way he grunts with satisaction

ro6

1c7

the windows in the flat, drenching the atmos-

phere in car fumes and the uproar of the unemployed arguing in the

did gave me pleasure. Irritating him was one of the guaranteed

delights of my life. 'Go out, then,'I said. 'fhere's no guard stopping

as he reads, and bumbles around the place asking me if I want some

keema. But I was compelled to marry him. I don't want him here. I
don't see why I should care for him as well.'
'What i he loves you, Jammie?'
She sat up and looked at me. She thrust her hands at me and said
passionately, "Kaim, this world is full of people needing sympat\
and care, oppressed people, like our people in this racist country,
who face violence every day. It is them l sympathize with, not my
husband. In fa, he irritates me intensely sometimes. Fire Eater, the
man's barely alive at ! ls pathetic!'
But as I painted her stomach and breasts in the little kisses I knew
she loved, biting and nibbling her all over, trying to relax her, she
was still pondering on Changez. She said, Tasically he,s just a
parasitical, sexuy fnrstrated man. Thas what I think of him when
I thnk of him at .'
'Sexually ftrrshated? But thas where he's gone now. To see his

regular whore! Shinko, she's called.'

'No! Really? Is it tme?'
'Of course.'
"fell me, tell me!'
So I told her about Changez's patron saint, Harold Robbins, about
Shinko, and about the positions problem. This made us want to try
numeo!'ls positions ourselves, as Shinko and Changez were no
doubt doing as we spoke. Later, as we held each other, she said, ,But
what about you, Karim? You're sad, aren't you?'
I was sad, it was true. How could I not be when I thought of Mum
lying there in that bed day after day, completely wrecked by Dad
having run of with another woman? Would she ever recover? She
had great qualities, Mum, of charm and kindness and general
decency, but would anyone ever appreciate them and not hurt her?
Then )animie said, lMhat are you going to do with your life now
you've stopped going to college?'
'What? But I haven't stopped going. I iust don,t tum up for
lectures that often. Let's not talk about it, it makes me depressed.
What will you do now?'
She became fervent. 'Oh me, but I'm not hanging around, though
it may look like it. I'm really preparing for something. I just don,t
know what it is yet. I iust feel I have to know certain things and that
one day they will be of great use to me in understanding the world.,
ro8

We made love again, and we must have been tired, because it

can't have been less than two hours later that I woke up. I was

shivering. )amila was fast asleep with a sheet over her lower half. In
a fog I crawled out of bed to pick up a blanket which had fallen on the
floor, and as I did so I glanced through into the living room and
made out, in the darkness, Changez lying on his camp-bed watching
me. His face was expressionless; grave i anything, but mostly
vacant. He looked as if he'd been lying there on his stomach for quite
a while. I shut the bedroom door and dressed hurriedly, waking
tamila. I'd often wondered what I'd do in such a position, but it was
simple. I scuttled out of the flat without looking at my friend, leaving
husband and wife to each other and feeling I'd betrayed everyone Changez, Mum and Dad, and mysel.
i

i
I

i
.i

109

Eva's house one day to find Uncle Ted standing there in his green
overalls, a bag of toots hanging from his fist, smiling all over his
chopped face. He strode into the hall and started to Peer expertly at
the walls and ceiling. Eva came out and greeted him as though he
were an artist retuming from barren exile, Rimbaud from Africa. She
took his hands and they looked into each othes eyes'
Eva had heard from Dad what a poet among builders Ted was.
How he'd changed and refused to go on and now was wasting his
talent. This alerted Eva, and she arranged for them all to go out for
supper. Later they wentto ajazzclub in the Kingls Road-Unde Ted
had never seen black ws before - where Eva slyly said to Dad, 'I
think it's about time we moved to London, don't you?'
'I like the quiet of Beckenham, where no one bothers your balls,'
said Dad, thinking that that was the end of the matter, as it would
have been had he been talking to Mum.
But business was toing on. Between iazz sets Eva made Ted an
offer: come and make my house beautiful, Ted, we'll play swing
records and drink margheritas at the same time. It won't be like
doing a iob. Ted jumped at the chance to work with Eva and Dad,
partly out of nosiness - to see what freedom had made of Dad, and
could perhaps make of Ted - and partly out of the returning appetite
for labour. But he still had to break the news to Auntie fean. That
was the difficult bit.
Auntie fean went into turmoil. Iere was work, paid work, weeks
of it, and Ted was delighted to do it. He was ready to start, except

CHAPTER EIGHT

'You do nothing,'said Dad. 'You're

a bloody bum. You're destroy-

ing yourself wantonly, d'you know that? It sickens my whole heart.'

'Don't shout at me, I can't stand it.'

'I've got to, boy, to get it into yout thick head. How did you

manage to fail all those exams? How is it possible to ail every single
one?'
'Is easy. You don't show up for any of them.'
'Is that what you did?'

1es.'

3ut why, Karim, especially as you pretended to me you were

going off to take the damn exams. You left the house so full of the
confidence I gave you. Now I see why,' he said bitterly. 'How could
you do it?'
'Because I'm not in the right mood for sfudying. I'm too sfurbed
by all the stuf that's happening. You leaving Mum and all. Is a big
deal. It affects my life.'
'Don't blame me if you've ruined your life,' he said. But his eyes
filled with tears. 'Why? Why? Why? Don't interfere, Eva,'he said, as
she came into the room, alarmed by our shouting. This boy is a
complete dead loss. So what will you do, eh?'
'I want to think.'
"Think, you bloody fool! How can you think when you haven't got

that the employer was |ean's enemy, a terrible, man-stealing,

mutilated woman. fean pondered on it for a day while we held our
breath. Finally she solved the problem by agreeing to let Ted do it
provided none of us told Mum and as long as Ted gave Jean a full
report at the end of each day on what precisely was going on

any bnins?'

I knew this would happen; I was almost prepared for it. But this
contempt was like a typhoon blowing away all my resources and
possessions. I felt lower than I'd ever felt before. And then Dad
ignored me. I couldn't sleep at famila's place any more for fear of
having to face Changez. So I had to see Dad every day and have him
deplore me. I don't know why he took it so fucking personally. Why
did it have to bother him so much? It was as if he saw us as having
one life between us. I was the second half, an extension of him, and
instead of complementing him I'd thrown shit all over him.
So it was a big cheering surprise when I opened the front door o
11()

{
{

between Dad and Eva. We agreed to these conditions, and tried to

think of salacious things for Ted to tell fean.
Eva knew what she wanted: she wanted the whole house
transformed, every inch of t, and she wanted energetic, industrious
people around her. We got down to it immediately. With relief, I
abandoned any pretence at being clever and became a mystic
assistant labourer. I did the carrying and loading and smashing, Eva
did the thinking, and Ted ensured her instructions were carried out.
Dad fastidiously avoided the whole muck of building, once spitting
111

curs at us: 'lvay you have the builders., Ted replied with an
obscurity he thought would delight Dad. ,Haroon, I'm kissing the
joy as it flies,' he said, laying into a wall with a hammer.
The three of us worked together excellently, elated and playful.
Eva had become eccentric: when a decision was needed Ted and I
often had to wait while she retired upstairs and meditated on the
exa shape of the conservatory or the mensions of the kitchen.
The way fonnrard would emerge from her unconscious. This was not
wildly fferent, I suppose, to what went on in a book I was reading,
Edmund Gosse's Father and Son, in which the father would pray
beore any crrcial decision and awt God,s direction.
Before lunch Eva had us traipse out into the garden, where we
bent and stletched, and sat with our backs straight, and breathed
ttuough altemate nostrils before we ate our salads and fruit. Ted
went in for it all with great, childlike alacity. He took to the Cobra
position as if it had been designed for him. Unlike me, he seemed to
enjoy appearing foolish, thinking he had become a new, open
penlon. Eva encouraged us to play, but she was a shrewd boss too.

othe/s tracksuit bottoms down and playing games like seeing who
could throw a lolly-stick in a bin the most times out of ten.
Perhaps he was more specific, speaking of what he usually saw

an Arab

when he carne to work in the morning - Eva in her blue silk pf amas
and red robe shouting and laughing and giving orders to me for
breakast, and reading aloud from the papers. In the old days Mum
and Dad took the Daily Minor, that was . Eva liked bo sprinkle the
house with about five papers and three magazines a day, skimrning
over Vogue and the Nant Statesrnan and t}l're Daily Erpras before
dumping the lot into the wastepaperbasketbeside the bed. Perhaps
Ted told |ean of the walks the four of us took when Eva got tired of
wotking; and the tinre Eva's fe hurt and she hailed a cab - absolute
Roman decadence for Dad, Ted and nne. We took a twehour tour of

South London with Eva drinking Guinness and hanging out the
window reering as we passed down the old Kent Road, stopping

bede tlre amous site of Dr Lal's surgery and the dance hall of love,

where Mum met Dad and fell. But I doubted if Ted could say
anything about all this joy and good times. It wouldt be whatfean
would want to hear. It wouldn't be of any use to he.
Obviously Ted and I weren't always around to scrutinize the
intricate excitements of this new love, especially as Dad and Eva

or Edwardian houses were genery smashed open and stripped

spent many evenings over the river in London PoPer, going to the
theatre to see controversial plays, to German films or to lectures by
Marxists, and to high-dass parties. Eva's old friend Shadwell was

bare, only to be filled with chipboard and Formica.

Finy the house was painted white, every room. White is the
only colour for a house,' Eva announced. There were polished dark
wood floors and green blinds. Heavy wrought-iron black fireplaces
to Ted's irritation, as he'd spent much of
ut fireplaces so women like my mother
on freezingmornings to make up the fire

starting to rnake his way as a theatre director, working as an

assistant at the Royal Shakespeare Company, running workshops
on Beckett and putting on plays by Artaud and new writers at fringe

venues. Eva helped Shadwell out by designing one of these

productions and making the costumes. This she loved, and it led to
her, Dad and Shadwell going to dinners and parties with all kinds of
(fairly) important people - not the sort we knew in the suburbs, but
the real thing: people who really d write and direct plays and not
just talk about it. Eva wanted to do more of this; she scussed
furnishings and house decoration with the better-off ones - they
were always buying new places in the country, these people, and
she knew how to make herself useful.
How smart and glamorous they looked when they went off to
London in the evenings, Dad in his suits and Eva with shawls and
hats and expensive shoes and handbags. They glowed with happi-

When Auntie fean slammed Unde Ted,s tea on the table at the end
- a meat pie and chips, or a nice bit of rump steak and
tartar sauce (he hadn't the nerve yet to go vegetarian) _ she sat
opposite him with a stiff drink and demanded facts about Eva and
Dad.
'So what did you tell her last night, Uncte Ted?, I,d ask him the
next day as we worked. But what was there to tell? I couldn,t
of each day

imagine Ted contemplating the nature of Eva and Dad,s taut

happiness or telling of how they were always trying to pull each

112

143

ness. And I'd walk around the emp house,

or ring Mum or a chaq
sometimes I'd lie on the floor in charrie's attic and
wonder what he
was doing and what kind of good time he was
having. Dad and Eva
would come back late, and I,d get uP to see them
an hear, as they
undressed' who'd said what to whom about
the latest play, r r,orr"t,
or sex-scandal. Eva would drink champagne
and watch tevision in
bed' which shocked me, and at least o',"
week she said she was
"
determined to take us to London or good.
And Dad would talk
about the play and say how the writer w-asn,t
a patch on Chekhov.
Chekhov was Dad,s favourite all_time writer,
f,."i_"y"-r.i

chekho s plays and stories reminded him""a

of naia. l'neve.
understood this until I realized he meant that
his charaers,
uselessness, indolence and longing were typical
of the adults he
knew when he was a child.

But
e

have scussed was money. It

haemorrhaging money on the

was

house
whatever she wanted.
her eye - a book o
earrings, a Chinese ha

of the agonizing

deserve

waiter and serve them Inan sweets' Eva also insisted on Dad
improving the service: s
early in the moming be
voice which must once
technicaldrawing homewopg 'And what did you leam this moming?'

and

money we l went through. ,I

was unhappy before wit my
ugain., Nothing would stop her.

husband

I
paintins

this seemed a bit rich. But love and Eva had unrolled the carpet of
Dad's confidence, along which he now ebulliently danced' They
made me feel conservative.
Dad started doing guru gigs again, once a week in the house, on
Taoisrn and meditation, like beore except that this time Eva insisted
people paid to attend. Dad had a regular and earnest young ctowd
of neaa-Uowers - students, psychologists, nurses, musicians - who
adored him, some of whom rang and visited late at night in panic
and fear, so dependent were they on his listening kindness. There
was a waiting list to join his grouP. For these meetings I had to
hoover the room, light the incense, greet the guests like a head

When

of rnoney I'lt get us some more.,

'Where from, Eva?,

";'.,::il;.rHJ'_J:ff::

'Haven't you noticed, Karim, the world,s

full of money! Haven,t
yo:,n:ticgd it sloshing around the country?,
1eah, I noticed it, Eva, but none o is
sloshig against our
house.'
'lVhen we need it I ll draw some of it over here.,
'She's ritht,' said Dad, somewhat magisteriaily,
,
when I went to
him later and told him what she,d said,
to make him see how
fring
demented it was. ,you have to be in the
colct frame of mind to
draw masses of money to you.,
never been in the right
thing but his salary to
as ,unearned income, _

aa4

Eva knew a man on the local paper, the same co-operative

joumalist who got Charlie on the front page of the Bromley and
KentishTimes, and he interviewed Dad. Dad was photographed in
his red waistcoat and Indian pyiamas sitting on a gold cushion' His
commuter companions were impressed by this sudden fame, and
Dad told me delightedly how they pointed him out to each other on

Platform Two. To be recognized for some achievement in life lited

Dad immensely; before Eva he had begun to see himsel as a failure
and his life as a disrnal thing. But the office, where he was an
unelevated lazy Indian who had run away from his wife and
children, there was disapproval from the clerks he worked with:
there was mockery behind his back and in front o his face' on the
picture in the newspaPer a bubble was drawn'protruding from his
mouth saying, 'Dark mystery of life solved by dark charlatan - at taxpayers' expense.' Dad talked about leaving his job' Eva said he could
do what he liked; she would support them both - on love,
presumably.

doubted whether Ted spoke to Auntie lean of this, or of the other

manifestations of love that filled our hours - of Eva, for example,
I

imitating the numerous grunts, sighs, snorts and moans which

punctuated Dad's conversation. Ted and I discovered her once in
the ripped-out kitchen running through a symphony of his noises
115

'Please, Please, dear it out of your mind.'

But how could he clear it out? It lay on him like water on a tin roo
rusting and rotting and corroding day after day' And though he was
,,"rn", io make such almost innocent remarks again, and though Eva
and Dad continued to want to make love all the time, and I caught
her giggling while she did iotic things with him, like snipping the
hafu in his ears and nostrils with a huge pair of scissors, there were
looks that escaped all possible policing, looks that made me think he
was capable
Perhaps it

that she Put

as soon as it
was finished. she,d decided to take Dad away. she would look for a
flat in London. T'lre suburbs were over: they were a leaving place.

the

beautiful

perhaps Eva thought a change of location would stop him thinking

about Mum. once the three of us were in Eva',s car in the High strcet
and Dad started to cry in the back. 'What is it?' I said. '\Alhas
happened?'
ti *"t her,' he replied. 'I thought I saw your mother go into a

rve }vee discussing something sgraceful'

'But you don't want her! you weren,t right

for each other! you
stultified each other. Weren,t you togethe."lorrg
enough ,"

that?'

'I could have done more,, he said. ,Made

more effort to

f""lr,

care. She
didn't deserve to be hurt so. I don,t believe
in people leaving

people.'

This guilt and regret will ruin us!,

'It is part of me

r16

there, owning nothing, living nowhere Permanent, screwing

whoever he could; sometimes he even rehearsed and wrote son8s.

He lived this excess not yet in despair but in the excitement of
increasing life. occasionally I'd get up in the morning and there he'd
be in the kitchen, eating furiously, as i he didn't know where his
next grub was coming from, as if each day was an advenfure that
could end anywhere. And then he'd be gone'
Dad and Eva travelled to all Charlie't Bgt, at art colleges, in pubs
and at small festivals in muddy fields, Eva writhing and cheering all
at7

What was this charrr? How had it seduced me for so long? I would

advised a sciple - the earnest girl Fruitbat, perhaps, or her

relentlessly smiling lover, Choryam-fones, who ressed in what
looked like a Chinese ga!,ef their flattery was becoming necessary.
But Dad accompanied Eva wherever she needed him. FIe ws
certainly enjoying life more than ever before, and when Eva
finally
announced that we were moving to London he admitted thatit
was

the right thing to do.

As we packed Charlie's things in the attic, Dad and I tked about
Charlie's problem: the fact was he knew the band dn,t have an

the least talented. Then there were those who were powerful, but

lacked other virtues. But at least Powe was self-created, unlike

exquisite cheekbones. Further on were those who were compelling
to listen to; and above them were those who could make you laugh'

too.othersmadeyoumarvelattheirclevernessandknowledge:
this was an achievement as well as an entertainment'

ever interested him. He asked about your life, and seemed to savour
every moment of your conversation. He was excellent at listening,

T,::
il.j;:"l"t5;:ffi:i'T'.3"" 'T:"s,T*"T
forget him;
Charlie had done so once, say, and they couldn't

fucked
was
-y
escaPe ineouse ty

perhaps he'd
'nirr,,

g if it

from
he'd

aited

out the front all daY.

After seeing it work for so long, I began to perceive charlie's

charm as a method of robbing houses by persuading the owners to

warm South.

his
ultimately
cmellest and

, especially with girls'

notes on

mistaken for ability. He could even charm himself, I reckoned.

rr8

us' No; Charlie was the

He e-xtorted, not only sex,

but love and loyalty, kindness and encoura8ement, beore moving

on. I too would gladly have exercised these master-skills, but there
was one essential ingredient I lacked: charlie's strong will and his
that took his
s. But he was
it was getting
149

late, and ultimately he was only in a rotten rock'n,

roll band called
Mustn't Grumble which sounded like Hawkwind.
Charlie rarely saw his own father when he,d been a patient
and
en Charlie was staying
r, to whom he told the

Charlie,s talent. Dad drew him

maps to the unconscious; he suggested routes and

speeds, clothing
f-or the joumey and how to sit aithe wheel
when approa*d *"
dangerous interior. And for days and days, under
m" f"U mJn of
high expectation, charrie raboured to wrlnch a fragment
of beauty
frorn hissoul - in my view (and to my relief), to
noivail. *" **,

were still shit.

out, forl still had such sympathy

at him coolly. But when I had

knew r had him. rf r wanted ,

which would also - some puny power _ be a

own pointless Me.

":frrt'Ji:"1i:t;:li::TlL:
bitter..p"LA a *y

Sometimes I told Eva I wanted to be a photographer

or an aor, or
perhaps a journalist, preferably a foreign correspondent
in a war

lfast. I knew I hated authority and being

working with Ted and Eva, and they let me

less as I wished. But my aim was to join
Mustn't Grumble as a rhythm guitarist. t could play a
rittle, after all.
When I put this to Charlie he almost choked wiih
laughter. ,But
there is a job that's just right for you,, he said.
'Oh yeah, what is it?,
'Start Safurday,, he said.
And he gave me a job as Mustn't Grumble,s occasional
roadie. I
was still a nothing, but I was in a good position
to get at Charlie
when the time was right.
And it was right one evening, at an art college gig
where I was
helping lug the gear to the van. I,d heard Dad and
Eva in the bar
analysing the performance as if it were Miles
Davis,s farewell
appearance. Charlie strolled past me, his arm
around a girl who had
her tits hanging out, and he said, to make her
laugh,",H,r..y .p,
Karim, you gleat gill,s blouse, you friend of Dorothy.
B.ir,g -
to the dressing room and don,t be late.,
"ja
1,20

'But what's the hurry?' I said. 'You're not going anywhere - not as
a band and not as a Person.'
He looked at me uncertainly, foning and patting his hair as
usual, unsure if I was joking or not. '\Alhat d'you mean?'
So: I had hirn. He'd walked right into it.

'What do I mean?'
'Yeah,1 he said.
To go somewhere you gotta be talented, Charlie. You got to have
it upstairs.' I tapped my forehead. 'And on Present evidence a back-

door man like you hasn't got it up there. You're a looker and

everything, a face, I'll concede that. But your work dot aulaze me,
and I need to be amazed. You know me. I need to be fucking
staggered. And I'm not fucking staggered. Oh no.'
He looked at me for a while, thinking. The girl dragged at his arm.
At last he said, 'I don't know about that. I'm breaking up the band
an)ryvay. What you've said isn't relevant.'
Charlie tumed and walked out. The next day he sappeared
again. There were no more gigs. Dad and I finished packing his
things.

I'd
do there when the city belonged to me. There was a sound that
In bed before I went to sleep I fantasized about London and what

London had. It was, I'm afraid, people in Hyde Park playing bongos
with their hands; there was also the keyboard on the Doors's 'Light
My Fire'. There were kids dressed in velvet doaks who lived free

lives; there were thousands of black people everywhere, so I

wouldn't feel exposed; there were bookshops with racks of magazines printed without capital letters or the bourgeois disturbance of
full stops; there were shops selling all the records you could desire;
there were parties where girls and boys you didn't know took you
upstairs and fucked you; there were all the drugs you could use. You
see, I didn't ask much of life; this was the extent of my longing. But
at least

my goals were clear and I knew what

I was ready for anything.

wanted. I was twenty.

PART TWO

ln

the

City

CHAPTER NINE

The lat in West Kensington was really only three large, formerly
elegant rooms, with ceilings so high that I often gaped at the room's
proportions, as if I were in a dereli cathedral- But the ceiling was
the most interesting part of the lat. The toilet was up the hall, with a
broken window through which the windwhipped directly uP your
arse. The place had belonged to a Polish wortan, who'd lived there
as a child and then rented it to shrdents for the past fifteen years.
When she died Eva bought it as it was, furniture induded. The
roorns had ancient cnrsty mouldings and an iron_traned bett-pult
for calling servants from the basement, now inhabited by Thin

izztl/s road manager, a ulan who had the misfortune, so Eva

informed me, to have hair Sowing out of his shoulders. The sad
walls, from which colour had faded, were covered by da'k
cracked mirrors and big sooty paintings which sappeared one by
one when we wer1e ou! though there were no oth signs of
b.'glury. Most puzzling of l was the fa that Eva wasn't perfirrbed

by their disappearanae. 'Hey, I think another picture's disappeared,

Eva,' I'd say. 'Oh yes, sPace for other things,' she'd reply. Eventually she admitd to us that Charlie was stealing them to sell and we
were not to mention it. 'At least he has initiative,' she said. 'Vllast

fean Genet a thieP'

Within the three large rooms were partitions that made up other,
smaller rooms, and the kitchen, whir contained the bath. lt was
like a student flat, a wretched and dirty gaff with lino on the floor

and large white dried lowers waving from the marble fireplace. The

rooms' great sPaces were intemrpted by busted brown furnitue.

bed for me; I slept on the sofa in the front room.

Charlie, who so had nowhere to go, sometimes slept on the floor
beside me.
Dad stood looking at the flat in sgust. Eva hadn't let him see it
There wasn't even

before; she iust bought it quickly when we sold the house in

Beckenham and had to get out. 'Oh my God,' Dad groaned, 'how
have we come to live in sur filth?'

i
:

425

He wouldn't even sit down, in case a spider jumped out of an

armchair. Eva had to cover a chair in stapled-together plastic bags
before it was hygienic enough for his arse. But Eva was happy. 'I can
really do something with this,' she kept saying, sbiding around, as
Dad tumed pale; and there in the centre of the room she held him
and kissed him again and again in case he lost his nerve and faith in
her and longed to be with Mum. 'What d'you think?' said Dad,
turning to me, his other worry. 'I love it,'I said, which pleased him.
'But will it be good for hirn?'he asked Eva. Eva said yes. 'I'll look
after him,'she added, with a smile.
The city blew the windows of my brain wide open. But being in a
pLace so bright, fast and brilliant made you vertiginous with
possibility: it dn't necessarily help you grasp those possibilities. I
still had no idea what I was going to do. I felt directionless and lost in
the crowd. I couldn't yet see how the city worked, but I began to find
out.
West Kensington itselwas made up of rows of five-storey peeling
stucco houses broken up into bed-sits that were mostly occupied by

foreign students, itinerants and poor people who'd lived there for
years. The Distri Line ved into the eartlr hal-way along the
Barons Court Road, to which it ran parallel, the trains heading for
Charing Cross and then out into the East End, from where lJncle
Ted had originy come. Unlike the suburbs, where no one of note except H. G. Wells - had lived, here you couldn't get away from
VIPs. Gandhi himself once had a room in West Kensin$on, and the
notorious lanord Rarman kept a flat for the young Mandy RiceDavies in the next streeg Christine Keeler came for tea. IRA bombers
stayed in tiny rooms and met in Hammersmith pubs, singng 'Amrs
for the IRA' at closing time. Mesrine had had a r<rcm by the tube
station.

So this was l.ondon at last, and nothing gave me more pleasure

than strolling around my new possession d"y. l.ondon seemed
like a house with five thousand (x)ms, all differen! the ki was to
work out how they conneed, and evenfually to wk through all of
them. Towards Hammersmith was the river and its pubs, full of
hollering middledass voices; and there were the seduded gardens
which fringed the river along Lower Mall and the shaded strollalong
the towpath to Barnes. This part of West London seemed like the
countryr to me, with none of the disadvantages, no cows or farmers.

rz6

Nearby was exPensive Kensington, where rich ladies shopped,

and a wIk from that was Earls Court, with its baby-faced male and
female whores arguing and shoving each other in the pubs; there

lvere transvestites and addicts and many disoriented people and

con-merchants. There were small hotels smelling of spunk and
sinfectant, Australian havel agents, all_ght shops run by dwarf-

stayed before moving uP, or remained only because they were

stuck. lt was quieter, with few shops, not one of them interesting,
and restaurants which opened with optimistic flourishes and invitations but where, after a few weeks, you could see the desolate

house of fights and dope called the Nashville. The front of it had oak
beams and cun'ed glass in the shape of a Wurlitzer iukebox' Every
night the new grouPs blew West Kensington into the air'
As Eva had known, the location of the flat would ways be a draw
for Charlie, and when he turned uP one evening to eat and sleep I
said, 'Les go to the Nashville.'

He looked at me warily and then nodded. He seemed keen

go
in
he tried

nds and see what was

viness in his response'
to me, 'Don't You want

enough to
happening

later

to go somewhere quieter than that, where we can talk?' Charlie had

u.'oid"a concerts and gigs for months. He was afraid of finding the

London bands too good, as if he'd see a young group with such
talent and promise that his own brittle hopes and aspirations would
be exploded in
ledge. Myself,I

Charlie's glory

74

London the kids looked fabulous; they dressed and walked and
talked like little gods. We could have been from Bombay. We'd

never catch up.

Predictably, I had to pay for Charlie. I did it willingly because I still
loved his company so much, but I had little money. As property
prices in London were moving upwards, Eva,s shrewd plan was to
decorate the flat as we had the last house, sell at a proit, and move
on. But she was still meditating for hours and waiting for the voice of
the flat to inform her of its favoured colour scheme. When word
came, Ted and I would obey, and we,d get paid. Until then I was
broke and Ted was left at home reminiscing with Mum about the
war and trying to stop fean from drinking.
Charlie was s(x)n drunk. We were sitting in the small, side bar in
the Nashville. I noticed that he was starting to smell. He dn,t
change his clothes too often, and when he did he iust picked up
whatever was around him - Eva's iumpers, Dad,s waistcoats, an
always my shirts, which he borrowed and I never saw again. He,d
crash some party, see a better shirt in the closet, change into it, and
leave mine behind. I'd started locking my shirts in a desk drawer
every night, except that now I'd lost the key with all my Ben
Shermans in there.
I'd been looking forward to telling Charlie how depressed and
lonely I'd been since we moved to London" But before I,d managed a
single moan, Charlie pre-empted me. ,I am suicidal,, he announced
grandly, as if he were Pegnant. He said he was circling in that
round of despair where you don't care one iota what happens to you
or anyone else.
A famous footballer with a famous perm was sitting next to
Charlie listening to this. The Perm was soon taking pity on Charlie,

someone mentioned the band were preparint to go on next door,

my luck changed. I saw Charlie suddenly ierk forward and vomit in
the footballes lap, before collapsing backwards off his stool. The

Perm got excited. Ater all, he d have a pond consisting of

Charlie's last Chinese meal steaming in his crotch. He'd told us

earlier that he was planning on taking a woman to Tramp that nightAnyway, the Perm leapt up and booted Charlie a couple of ti es in
the ear with those famous feet until the heavies pulled him away. I
managed to heave Charlie into the mainbar and prop himup against
a wall. He was half unconscious and trying to stop himself crying.
He knew what things had come to.

Take it easy,' I told him. 'Keep away from people tonight.'

'I feel better,

OK?'

'Good.'

Tor the moment.'

'oK.'

arcund the dark !oom, at the end of which

was a small stage with a drun-kit and mike-stand on it. Maybe I was
just a provinci or something, but I began to see that I was among
the shangest auence I'd seen in that place. There were t}re usual
long-hairs and burned-out heads h*g.g at the back in velvet
trousers or dirty jeans, patchwork boots and sheepskin coats,
I relaxed and looked

scussing bus fares to Fez, Barday fames Hanlest and bread. That
was the usual clientle, the stoned inhabitants of local squats and
basements.
But at the front of the place, near the stage, there vere about thirty
kids in ripped black dothes. And the dothes were full of saety_Pins.
Their hair was uniformly black, and cut short, seriously short, or if
long it was spiky and rigid, sticking up and out and sideways, like a
handful o needles, rather than hangiag down. A hurricane would
not have slodged those styles. The girls were in rubber and leather

and wore skin-tight skirts and holed black stockings, with white
face-slap and bright-red lipstick. They snarled and bit people.

Accompanying these kids were what appeared to be three extravagant South American transvestites in dresses, rouge and lipstick,
one of whom had a used tampon on a piece of sEing around her
neck. Charlie stirred restlessly as he leaned there. He hugged
himself in self-pity as we took in this alien race dressed with an
abandonment and originality we'd never imagined possible. I began

an ereion, I'm so excited.'

rz8

a29

understand what London meantand what dass of outrage we had

to deal with. It certainly put us in proportion.
'lAlhat is this shit7 Charlie said. He_ was smissive, but he was
slightly breatNess too; there was awe in his voice.
'Be cool, Charlie,'I said, continuing to examine the auence.
'Be cool? I'm fucked. I iust got kicked in the balls by a footballer.,
'Hefs a famous footballer.'
'And look at the stage,' Charlie said. 'What rubbish is this? Why
have you brought me out for thisT
Dyou wanna go, then7
Aes. All this is making me feel sick.'
'OK' I said. 'kan on my shoulder and we'll get you out of here. I
don't like the look of it either. Is too weid.,
leah, mur too wefud.'
'Is too mut.'
to

Aeah.'

But befole we could move the band shambled on, young kids in
dothes similar to the auence' The fans suddenly started to bounce
up and down. As they pumped into the air and threw themselves
sideways they sc,eamed and spa.t at the band until the singer, a
skinny little kid with camoty hair, dripped with saliva. He seemed to
exPe this, and merely abused the auence back, spitting at them,
skidding ove on to his arse once, and drinking and slouching
around the stage as if he were in his living room. His PurPose vas
not to be charismatic; he would be hims lf in whatever mundane
way it took. The little kid wanted to be an anti-sta, and I couldn,t
take m.v eyes off him. It must have been worse for Charlie.
'He's ar'! iot,'Charlie said.

song lasted rnore than three minutes, and after each the carrothaired kid cursed us to death. He seemed to be yelling direy at
Charlie and me. I could feel Ctrarlie getting tense beside me. I knew
l,ondon was killing.us as I heard, Tuck off, all you smelly old
hippies!You fucking slags! You ugly fart-breaths!Fuck off to hell!' he

shouted at us.
I didn't look at Charlie again, until the end. As the lights came up I
saw he was standing up strght and alert, with cubes of dried vornit
decorating his reeks.

Les go,'

I said.

We were numb; we didn't want to speak for fear of returning to

our banal selves again. The wild kids buned out. Charlie and l
elbowed our way through the crowd. Then he stopped.
1ihat is it, charlie7
'I've got to get bastage and talk to those guys.'
I snorted" lA hy would they want to talk to you?'
t thought he'd hit me; but he took it well.
Yeah, there's no neason why they should like me,' he said. 'If I
sirw ne coming into the dressing roour I'd have mysel lcicked out"
We walked around West Kensington eating saveloy and chips
drenched in vinegar and saturated with st. People gathered in
Broups outside the burger place; others went to buy cigarcttes from
the Inan shop on the comer and then stood at the bus stop' In the
pubs the bar staff put the chairs upside down on the tables and

shouted, 'Hurry up now, please, thank you.' Outside the pub

kids with hedgehog hair, howling about anarchy and hatred. No

people algued about where to Bo next. The city at night intimidated

me: the piss-heads, bums, derelis and dealers shouted and looked
for fights. Police vans cmised, and sometimes the law leapt out on to
the sEeet to grab kids by the hair and smash their heads against
walls" The wrecked kds pissed into doorways.
Charlie was excited. That's it, that's it,' he said as we strolled.
Thas fucking it.' His voice was squeaky with raptule. The sixties
have been given notice tonight. Those kids ve saw have assassin_
ated all hope. The re the fucking future.'
'Yeah, maybe, but we can't follow them,' I said casually.
'Why not?'
'obviously we cat wear rubber and safety-pins and all. What
would we look like? Sure, Charlie.'
'Why not, Karim? Why not, man?'

430

t3r

leah.'
'And I bet they can't pl,ay either. Look at those instsuments.
Where d they get them, a iumble sale?'
'Right,'I said.
'Llnprofessional,' he said.

When the shambolic gouP finally started up, the music was

thrashed out. It was moe aggressive than anything I,d heard since
early Who. This was no peace and love; here were no drum solos or
effeminate slmthesizers. Not a squeeze of anything ,progressive' or
'experimental' came from these pallid, vicious tittle coun estate

'It's not us.'

'But we've Bot to chan6e. What are you saying? We shouldn't
keep up? That suburban boys like us ways know where it's at?'
'It would be artificial,' I said. 'lt\Ie're not like them. We don't hate

sations with God-knows-who on the phone, and certainly wouldn't

speak to Dad and me abut what she was doing.

the way they do. We've got no reason to. We're not from the estates.

him, used him, led him on and asked him favours. It bothered me,
but Dad was unworried. He patronized Shadwell; he wasn't threatened. He took it for granted that people would fall in love with Eva.

We haven't ben through what they have.'

He hrrned on me with one of his nastiest looks.
You're not going anywhere, lGim. You'rt not doing anything
with your life because as usual you're facing in the wrong direction
and going the wrong way. But don't try and drag me down with
you. I don't need your disoouragement! Don't think I'm 6oing to end
up like you!'
'Like meZ I could hardly speak. "l\Itrat am I that you hate so
much?'I managed to say.
But Charlie was looking across the street and not at me. Four kids
from the Nashville, wo girls and two boys, were piling into a car.
They whooped and abused passers-by and fircd water-pistols. The
next thing I saw was Charlie sprinting through the traffic towards
them. He dodged behind a bus and I thought he'd been knocked
down. When he re-emerged he was ripping his shirt off - it was my
shirt, too. At fist I thought he was using it to wave at people, but
then he buned it up and threw it at a police car. Seconds later he'd
leapt into car with the kids, his bare torso on someone's lap on the
front seat. And the car took off up the North End Road before he'd
got the door shut. Charlie was away to new adventures. I walked
home.

A few days later Eva made an announcement. 'I(arim,' she

'Les start working together again. Is time. Ring Unde Ted.'

'Geat,' I said' 'At last.'

said.

But there was one thing she wanted to do first. She had to give a

flat-warming party. There was a th"ory of parties she said she

wanted to try out. You invited people you thought would dislike
each other and you watched them get along swingingly. For some
reason I dn't believe her when she said this; I wasn't convinced

that she was being straight. But whatever she was up to - and it was
something- she spent days ticking and marking the party guest list,
a thick, creamy piece of paper she kept with her at all times. She was

unusually secretive about the whole thing and had intricate convera32

What I d know was that Shadwell was involved. lt was his

contacts she was using. They were conspirators. She flirted with

But it was affecting Dad. For instance, he wanted to invite his

meditation group to the party. Yet Eva insisted that no more than
two of them come. She dn't want the new smooth gowd to think
she was mixing with a bunch of basket-weavers from Bromley. So
Choryam-fones and Fruitbat came, arriving an hour early, when
Eva was still shaving her legs in the bath in the kitchen. Eva tolerated
thern since they paid for Dad's thoughts and therefore her dinner,
but when they went into the bedroom to chant I heard her say to
Dad, as she put on her yellow silk blouse for that brilliant evening,
'The future shouldn't contain too much of the past.' Later, just as the
party was starting and Eva was discussing the origin o the word
'bohemian' w'ith Dad, Fruitbat pulled out a handy pad and asked i
she could wrie down sornething that Dad had said. The Buddha of
suburbia nodded regally, while Eva looked as if she wanted to cut off
Fruitbat's eyelids with a pair of scissors.
When this eagerly awaited party actually happened, it had been
going forty minutes before Dad and I realized that we knew virtually
no one there. Shadwell seemed to know everyone. He was standing
at the door, greeting people as they came in, simpering and giggling
and asking them how so-and-so was. He was being totally homo
sexual too, except that even that was a pose, a rus , a way of selfpresentation. And he was, as always, a pichre of health, dressed in
black rags and black boots and twitching maniacally. His face was
white, his skin scrofulous, his teeth decaying.
Since I'd been living in the flat, Shadwell had been coming to see
Eva at least once a week, during the day, when Dad was at the office.
He and Eva went out on long walks together, or to the cinema at the
ICA to see Scorsese ilms and exhibitions of rty nappies. Eva made
no effort to have us talk to each other, Shadwell and I; in fa I felt

she wanted to discourage conversation. Whenever I saw her and

Shadwell together they always looked pretty intense, as if the d
just had a fight or shared a lot of secrets.
433

Now, as the party fodder turned up in their glittering clothes, I

began to see that Eva was using the evening not as a celebration but

as her launch into London. She'd invited every theatre and film
person she'd run into over the past few years, and a lot she hadn't.
lvany were Shadwell's acquaintances, people he'd met only once or
twice. Every tlrird-rate aor, assistant film director, weekend writer,
part-time producer and their friends, if they had friends, slid on to
our premises. As
darling new mother (whom I loved) moved
radiantly about the^y
room introducing Derek, who had iust directed
E4uus at the Conta Theatrre, to Btyan, who was a freelance
in filrr, or lGren, who was a secretary at a
iournalist
literary agency, to Robert, who was a designer; as she spoke of the
new Dylan bum and what Riverside Stuos was doing, I saw she
wanted to scor that suburban stigma right off her body. She dn't
realize it was in the blood and not on the skin; she dn't see therc
could be nothing more suburban than suburbanites rcpuating
themselves.
It was a relief when at last I saw someone I knew. From the
window I spotted famila getting out of a cab, accompanied by a
Japanese-woman and Changez. I was delighted to see my friend's
happy pudding face again, blinking up at the collapsing mansion in
which our flat was located. As I caught his eye I realized how much I
wanted to hold him in my.rrrns again, and squeeze his rolls o fat.
Except that I hadn't seen him since he lay on his campbed and
watched me sleeping naked with his beloved wie, the woman I'd
always charaerized to him as 'siste.
d spoken frequently to famila on the phone, of course, and
apparently Changez - solid, stable, unshakeable Changez - had
furned quite mad after the naked-on_the-bed incident. Hd railed at
famila and accused her of adultery, incest, betrayal, whoredom,
deceit, lesbianism, husband-haEed, frfity, lying and callousness,
as well as the usual things.
lamila was egually fine and fierce that day, explaining just who

her damn body belonged to. And anyway, it was none of his
business: didn't he have a regular fuck? He could shove his
hypocrisy up his fat arse! Changez, being at heart a haditional
Muslim, explained the teachings of the Koran on this subiect to her,

Changez a considerable backhander across his wobbling chops,

which shut his mouth for a fortnight, during which he miserably

carried his bruised jaw to his camp-bed - that raft in a storm - and

didn't speak.
Now he shook hands with me and we held each other. I was
slightly worried, I must admit, that he would knie me.
'How are you, Changez?'
'Looking good, looking good.'

'Yes?'
Without any hesitation he said, 'Les not beat around any bushes.
How can I forgive you for screwingmywife? Is thata nice thing to do
to a friend, eh?'
I was ready for him.
'I've known fammie all my life, yaar. l-ong-standing arrantement.
She was always mine in so far as she was anyone's, and she's never
been anyone's and never will be anyone's, you know. She's her own
Person"'

His sad face trembled as he shook his sincere, hurt head and sat
down.
'You deceived me. It was a blow against the centre of my life. I
couldn't take it. It was too much for me - it hit me hard, in the guts,
Karim.'
What can you say when friends admit such hurt without vinctiveness or bitterness? I didn't ever want to aim a blow against the
centre of his life.
'How are you two getting along anyway?' I asked, shiting the
subie. I sat down beside him and we opened a Heineken each.
Changez was thoughtful and serious.
'I've got to be realistic about adjustment. Is unusual for me, an
Indian man, vis-d-or's the things that Bo on around my wife. famila
makes me do shopping and washing and deaning. And she has
become friends with Shinko.'

'Shinko?'
He indicated the fapanese woman who had arrived with him. I
looked at her; I did recognize her. Then it occurred to me who
Shinko was - his prostitute friend, with whom he conjured Harold
Robbins's positions.

and then, when words were not suficient to convince her, he tried
to give her a whack. But famila was not whackable. She gave

I was amazed. I could hardly speak, but I could

snigger, for there they were, Changez's wife and his whore, chatting
together about modern dance with Fruitbat.

r34

t15

I was p

'z'1sd. 'Is Shinko a friend of famila's, then?'

'Only recently, you complete cllnt. tamiLa made up her mind she

didn't have sficient women friends, so she went to call on Shinko,s

house. You told her about Shinko, after all, for no ason' gratis,
thank you very mur, I'll do the same for you some day. It was
bloody embarrassing at first and all, I can tell you, as these two girls
sat there rfht in front of my nose, but the BIls it dn,t phase out at

all.'

'And what d you do?'

'Nothing! What could I do? They were instant friends! They were
discussing all the subjects usually kept under the pillow. The penis
here, the vagina there, tlre rnan on top, the wonan here, there and
everywhere. I just have to put up with all the humiliations that f
on my head in this great country! Is been fficult, too, sinct
Anwar-saab has become insanely mad.'
'lAlhat ale you on about, Ctrangez? I don't know anything about
this.'
He sat back, regarded me coolly and shrugged complacently.
'But what subject do you know about?'
,Eh?,

1ou never go there, yaar, just as you avoid me now.,

'I see.'
'It makes you sad,' he said.
I nodded. It was true that I hadn't been to see feeta or Anwar for a

long time, what with the moving and my depression and every-

thing, and wanting to start a new lie in l.ondon and know the city'
Don't leave your own people behind, Karim.'
Before I had a chance to leave my own people and find out exactly
how Anwar had gone insanely mad, Eva came ove to me'
'Excuse me,' she said to Changez. 'Get up,' she said to me.
'I'm all right here,' I said.
She tugged me to my feet. 'God, Karfun, won't you do anything for
yoursel?' Her. eyes were bright with the thrill of things. As she
talked she didn't stop looking around the room. ,Karim, darling,
your big moment in life has arrived. There's someone here dying to
meet you again, meet you properly. A man who will help you.,
She led me through the throng. 'By the way,' she murmured in
my ear. 'Don't say anything arrogant or appear too egotistical.'

q6

I was annoyed with her dragging me avay from Changez. nVhy

not?'I said.
'Let him talk,' she said.
She'd mentioned someone who would help me, but I saw only
Shadwell ahead of me. 'Oh no,'I said, and tried to pull away. But
she continued to haul me forward like a mother with a naughty

child. 'Come on,' she said. 'It's your chance. Talk about the theatre.'
Shadwell didn't require much encouratement. It was easy to see
that he was clever and well read, but he was also boring. Like many
speacularbores, his thoughts were catalogued and indexed. I/Vhen
I asked him a question he'd say, The ans\ffer to that is - in fa the
several answers to that are . . . A.'And you'd get point A followed
by points B and C, and on the one hand F, and on the other foot G,
until you could see the whole alphabet stretching ahead, each letter
a Sahara in itself to be crawled across. He was talking about the
theatre and the writers he liked: Arden, Bond, Orton, Osborne,
Wesker, each suffocated just by being in his mouth for a minute. I
kept trying to get back to Changez's lugubrious face, which rened
morosely in his good hand as the guests filled the air around him
with cultivated noises. I saw Changez's eyes fall caressingly on his
wife's form and then rest on his prostitute's grooving hips as the two
of them got down to Martha Reeves and the Vandellas. Then,
spontaneously, Changez pushed himself up and danced with them,

lifting each foot ponderously from the floor like a performing

elephant, and sticking his elbows out as i he'd been asked, in a
drama class, to be a flamingo. I wanted to dance with him and

celebrate the renewal of our friendship. I crept away from Shadwell.

But I caught Eva's eye. She glared at me.
'I can see you want to get away,' said Shadwell, 'to much more
charismatic folk. But Eva tells me you're interested in aing.'
les, for a long time, I suppose.'
'Well, are you or aret you? Am I to be interested in you or not?'
'Yes, if you're interested.'
'Good, I am interested. tr'd like you to do something for me.
The ve given me a theatre for a season. Will you come along and do
a piece for me?'

1es,' I said. 'Yes, yes, I will.'

After the guests had gone, at tfuee in the morning, as we sat
among the debris and Chogyam and Fruitbat threw rubbish into
437

fi
plastic bags, I wanted to discuss Shadwell with Eva. I said he was
bo.i.g as hell. Eva was already irritable; this Madame Verdurin of
West London felt Dad and I hadn't appreciated the quity of her
guests. 'lVhose intelligence d you engage with this evening,
Karim? You two behaved as if we wele still in the stis. And it is

wicked, Karim, to mind Shadwell being duu. Is a misortune, not a

fault. Like being born with a nose like a turnip.'
'She's changed her tune,'I said to Dad. But he wasn't listening.
He watched Eva the time. Now he fult playfut he kept tickling the
crrshion n xt to him and saFn&'Come here, come here" little Eva,
and let me tell you a s g t.' They still played c-ening ganres that I
couldn't avoid, like putting sPe'n on ear othe/s nose and calling
one another Merkin and Muffn, for God's sake. Chogyam turned to
Dad. "V\Itrat is yorrr view orr this mater of boredom
Dad deared his thoat and said that boring people were deliberately boring. It was a personality roice, and responsibility couldn,t
be avoided by s.ytng they were like turnips. Bores wanted to
narcotize you so you wouldn't be sensitive to them.
'Anyway,' Eva whispered, sitting beside Dad now and craing
his drowsy head as she looked up at me. 'shadwell has a real theabe
and for some r ason he likes you. Irs see i we can land you a
theatre iob, eh? Is that what you want
I dn't know what to say. This was a rance, but I was frightened

collapse. 'Are you familiar with The Mad Dog Blues?' I asked
Shadwell, sure he would never have heard of it.
He was sitting in the front row of his theatre watching me, a
notebook balanced on the leg of his rancid trousers. He nodded.
'Shepard is my man. And there are not many boys who would not
want to b him, because A he is attractive, B he can write and act, C
he can play the drums and D he is a wild boy and rebel.'
tr
,{1

I
N

of taking it, frightened of exposing myself and failing. Unlike

Charlie's, my will wasn't stronger than my nrisgvings.

,IVake
up your mind,' she said. ll help you, Creaury, in any way
you want.'
over the nextfew weeks, with Eva cting me-whir she lovedI prepared a Sam Shepard speectr fromT'he MAd w Btua ot my
aution with Shadwell. I'd never worked so hard at anything in my

The Mid Dog Blua for me, please. Brilliantly.'

Shadwell's theatre was a small wooden building [ke a Large hut, in
suburban North London. It had a tiny foyer but a wide stage, proper
lights and about two hundred seats. They produced plays like Frenclr
aithout Teus, the latest Ayckbourn or Fra5rn, or a panto. It was
primarily an amateur place, but they d do three profession
produions ayea, mostly of pl,ays on the school cruricrrlum like Tftc
Royal Hunt of tlu Sun.
When I finished, Shadwell started to applaud with the tips of his
fingers, as if scared his hands would give each other a disease. He
climbed up on state. 'Thank you, Karim.'
lou liked it, yeah?' I asked, out of breath.
'So much so that I want you to do it again.'
'lIhat? Again? But I reckon that was my best shot, Mr Shadwell.'
He ignored me. He had an idea. 'Only this time two extra things
will occur: A, a wasp uriU be buzzing around your head. And B, the
wasp wants to sting you. Your motivation - and all aors love a bit
of motivation - is to brush, push, fight it away, OK?'
'I'm not sure Sam Shepard would approve of this wasp business,'
I said confidently. 'He really wouldn't.'
Shadwell ttrrned and peered exaggeratey into every cranny of
the deserted theatre. 'But he's not fucking here, unless ve gone

blind.'
And he went and sat down again, waiting for me to begin. I felt a
complete wanker, waving at that wasp. But I wanted the part,

life; nor, once I'd statted, had I wanted anything so bay. The
speech began: 'I was on a Greyhound bus out of Carlsbad heading
for Loving, New Mexico. Back to see my dad. After ten years. All
duded out in a double-breasted suit with my shoes all shined. The
driver calls "Loving" and I get off the bus . . .'
I knew what I was doing; I was thoroughly prepared; but that
dn't mean that when the day came I wasn't in a state of nervous
138

Aes.'
'Now do

whatever the part was. I couldn't face going back to that flat in West
Kensington not knowing what to do with my life and having to be
pleasant, and not being respected by anyone.
When I'd done with Shepard and the wasp, Shadwell put his arm
round me. 'Well done! You deserve a cofee. Come on.'
I

139

He took me to a lorry drives caf next door. I felt elated,

especiy when he said, 1'm looking for an actor just tike you.,
My head rang with cheering betls. We sat down with our coffee.
Shadwell put his elbow out hal-way across the table in a pude o

eek on the palm of his harrd, and stared at me.

'Really?' I said enthusiastically. 'An aor like me in what way?,
'An aor who'll fit the part.'
'What part7 I asked.
He looked at me impatiently. The part in the book.,
I could be very direct at times. 'lA/hat bookT
The book I asked you to r ad, trGrim.'
tsut you didn't.'
'I told Eva to tell you.'
But Eva dn't tell me anything. I would have remembered.,
'oh chist. oh fu, I'm going mad. trGrim, what the hell is that
wonlan playrnt atT And he held his head in his hands.
Don't ask me,'I said. 'At least tell me what the book is. rvaybe I
can buy it today.'
'Stop being so rational,'he said. 'IsTlu|unglcBoot. Kipling. You
know it, of course.'

'Yes, but not to me,' I said. 'It would be stupid. We wouldn't know
what he was on about. Things are difficult enough as it is.'
Shadwell persisted. There seemed no way he was ever going to
get off this subje.
'You've never been there, I suppose.'

tea, resting his

"Where?'

Why was he being so bloody aggressive about it?

1ou know where. Bombay, Delhi, Madras, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Trivandrum, Goa, the Punjab. You've never had that dust in
your nostrils?'
'Never in my nostrils, no.'

You must go,' he said,

'l will, OK?'

$(
fil

r1

Yeah, I've seen the film.'

m sute.'

He could be a snooty bastard, old Shadwell, that was for sure. But
was going to keep myself under control whatever he said. Then his
attitude changed completely. lnstead of talking about the
iob he said
some words to me in Punjabi or Urdu and looked as if he wanted to
get into a big conversation about Ray r Tagore or something. To tell
the tmth, when he spoke it sounded like he was gargling.
'\/ell?' he said. He rattled off some more words. aou don,t
I

understand?'
'No, not really.'
What could I say? I couldn'tlin. I knew he'd hate me for it.
'']our own language!'
aeah, well, I get a bit. The dirty words. I know when m being
called a camel's rectum.'
'Of course. But your father speaks, doesn't he? He must do.,
Of course he speaks, I felt like saytng. He speaks out of his mouth,
unlike you, you fucking cunt bastard shithead.
t'40

as i nobody had ever been there but

him'

']es, take a rucksack and see India, if is the last thing you do in
your life.'
'Right, Mr Shadwell.'
He lived in his own mind, he really did. He shook his head then
and did a series of short baks in his thrcat. This was him laughing, I
was certain. 'Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!' he went. He said, 'What a breed of
people two hundred years of imperialism has given birtth to. If the

pioneers from the East India Company could see you. What
puzzlement there'd be. Everyone looks at you, I'm sue, and thinks:
an Indian boy, how exotic, how interestin& what stories of aunties
and elephants we'll hear now from him. And you're fronn Orpington.'

Yeah.'

'Oh God, what a strange world. The immigrant is the Everyman of

the twentieth century. Yes?'
'Mr Shadwell -' I started.
'Eva can be a very difficult woman, you know.'
1eah?'
I breathed more easily now he'd changed the subje. 'The best
women always are,' he lvent on. 'But she didn't give you the book.
She's trying to prote you from your destiny, which is to be a halfcaste in England. That must be complicated for you to accept -

belonging nowhere, wanted nowhere. Racism. Do you find it

difficult? Please tell me.'
He looked at me.
'I don't know,' I said defensively. 'Let's talk about ang.'
144

'Don't vou know?'he persisted. 'Don't you really?'

I couldn't ansver his questions. I could barely speak at all; the

muscles in my ace seemed to have gone rigid. I was shaking with
embarrassment that he could talk to me in this way at all, as if he
knew me, as if he had the right to question me. Fortunately he didn,t

wait for any reply.

He said, 'When I saw more o Eva than I do now, she was often
unstable. Highly strung, we c it. Yes? She's been around, Eva, and
she's seen a lot. One moming we woke up in Tangier, where I was
visiting Parrl Bowles - a famous homosexu writer - and she was
suffocating. All her hair had d.opp"d out in the night and she was
choking on it.'
I just looked at him.
'lncredible, eh?'
'Incredible. It must have been psyrological.' And I almost added
that my hair would probably f out if I had to spend too rnuch time
with him.
'But I don't want to talk about the past,' I said.
'Don't you?'
This stuff about hirn and Eva was really making me uncomfortable. I didn't want to know about it.
'OK,' he said at last. I breathed a sigh of relief. 'Happy with your
father, is she?'
Christ, he was a nippy little questioner. He could have slain
people with his questioning, except that he never listened to the
answers. He dn't want answers but only the pleasure of his own

sweetbut wholesome in the costume. Not too pomographic, I hope.

Certain critics will go for you. Oh yes. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!' \
He jumped uP as t'^ro young women carrying scipts came into the
caf' Shadwell embraced them, and they kissed hirn, apparently
without revulsion. They talked to him with respect. This was my
first indication of how desperate aors can get.
'I've found my Mowgli,'Shadwell told them, pointing down at
me. 'I've found my little Mowgli at last. An unknown aor, just
right and ready to break through.'
' Iallo,' one of the women said to me. m Roberta,' said the other.
'Hallo,' I said.
'Isn't he terrificT Shadwell said.
The two women examined me. l was lust perfe. I'd done it. I'd
got a iob.

voice.
'I-et's hope it lasts, eh?' he said. 'Sceptical, eh?'
I shrugged. But now I had sornething to say. Off I went.
'I was in the Cubs. I remember itwell. The lungle BookisBaloo and
Bagheera and all that, isn't it?'
'Correct. Ten out of ten. And?'

'And?'
'And Mowgli.'
'Oh yes, Mowgli.'
Shadwell searched rny face or comment, a flinch or little sneer
perhaps. 'You're just right or him,' he continued. 'ln fact, you are
Mowgli. You're dark-skinned; you're small and wiry, and you'll be

rP

a4)

CHAPTER TEN

That summer a lot happened quickly to both Charlie and me: big
things to him; smaller but significant things to me. Although I dn,t
see Charlie for months, I rang Eva almost every day for a fuIl report.
And, of coul'iee, Charlie was on television and in the newspapers.
Suddenly you codn't get away from him and his blooming career'
He'd done it. As for rne, I had to wait the whole summer and into the
late autumn for rehearsals o The lungle Book to begin, so I went back
to South London, huppy in the knowledge that soon I,d be in a
professional produion and there'd be someone in the cast or me to
f in love with. I just knew that that was going to happerr.
Allie had gone to ltaly with his smart friends from school, looking
at clothes in Milan, for God's sake. I didn't want Mum to be alone,
now she'd left Ted and fean, and moved back into our old house.
Fortunately they'd given her the job ba at the shoe shop, and she
and I had to spend only evenings and weekends together. Mum was

and repainted doors smudged with our fingerprints. She repotted

every plant in the house and started listening to oPera.
Ted came by with plants. He loved shmbs, especially lilac bushes,
which fean had consequently banned from her garden, so he
brought them to our pl'ace' He also came by with old raos and
plates, jugs and silver candlesticks, anything he picked up on his

roaming trips around South London while he waited for Eva to

continue work on the new flat.
I read a lot, proper books like Lost llhtsiotrs and T'lu Red and tlu
Bla&, andwent to bed early, in training for love and work. Although
I was only a few miles away over the river, I miss d the London I

her knees with a scmbbing brush and bowl of water, behind

cupboards and along skirting boards. She washed down the walls

was getting to know and played games with myself like: if the secret
police ordered you to live in the suburbs for the rest of your life,
what would you do? ICll yourselfl Read? Almost every nitht I had
nightmares and sweats. It was sleeping under that rildhood roof
which d il. Whatever fear o the futue I had, I worrld overcome iU
it was nothing to my loathing of the past.
one moming rehearsals started. I said goodbye to Mum say, left
South London and went to stay with Dad and Eva once more. And
every day I ran fromthe tube to the rehearsal room. I was the last to
leave at night. I loved the hard work and being with the ten other
aors, in the pub, in the caf, belonging to the group'
Shadwell had obviously spent many weekends on the Continent
obsenring European theatre. He wanted a physicalfungleBookmade
of mime, voices and bodily invention. Props and coshrmes would be
minimal. The jungle itsel, its rees and srvamPs, the many anims,
fires and huts, were to be fashioned from our bodies, movements,
cries. Yet most of the aors he'd assembled hadn't worked in that
way before. On the first day, when we all jogged five times around
the rehearsal room to warm up, there were many exhausted lungs.
one woman had worked only in rao- as a disc-jockey. one aor I
became friendly with, Terry, had done only agit-prop before,
touring the country in a van with a company called Vanguard in a
music-hall pastiche about the miners' strike of r97z cled Digl Now
he found himself playing Kaa, the deaf snake known for the power
of his hug. And Terry did look as if he had a powerful hug. He was
going to spend the show hissing and flinging himself across the
scaffolding arch which ran up the sides and across the top of the
stage, and from which monkeys dangled, taunting Baloo the bear,

44

445

feeling much better, and she was aive again, though she,d become
very fat at Ted and Jean's.
She still dn't speak much, concealing pain and her wound from
voices and trite expression" But I watched her Eansform the house
frorn being their place - and it had been only a place, child-soiled,
funional - into her home. She started to wear bousers for the first
time, dieted, and let her hair grow. She bought a pine table from a
junk shop and slowly sandpapered it down in the garden, and then
sealed it, something she'd never done before, never even thought of
doing before. I was surprised she even knew what sandpaper was;
but I could be such a fool in not knowing people. There were shaky
cane chairs to go with the table, which I carried home on my head,
and there Mum sat hour after hour, doing calligraphy - Christmas
and birthday cards on squares of lush paper. She cleaned as never
before, with care and interest (this wasn't a chore now), getting on to

who couldn't climb and groaned a rot. Terry was in his early forties,
a pale, handsome face- a quiet, generous, workingdass
Welsh
man-boy. I liked him instantly, especially as he was fir,"", fanatic
"
and his body was solid and taut. I decided to seduce
him, but
without much hope of success.
I didn't clash with shadwell untit the second week,
at the costume
with

fini.g. At the start, everyone was respecul towards him, listening

carefully to his soporific exptanations. But he soon became a joke
to
most of us, because not only was he pedantic and patronizing,
he
was also frightened of whathe'd started and disliked suggestioris
for
fear they implied that he was going wTong. one daye took
me
aside and left me with the designer, a nervous girl who always
wore
black. she carried a yellow scarf and had a
iar of shit-brown cream in
her hand, which she was trying to conce behind her back.
This is your costume, Mr Mowgli.,
I aaned my neck to examine the contents of her hand.
'IMrere is my costume?,
"Take your clothes off, please.,
It turned out that on state I wourd wear a loin-croth and
brown
make-up, so that I resembred a turd in a bikini-bottorn. I undressed.
'Please don't put this on me,'I said, shivering. ,Got to,, she
said" ,Be
a big boy.' As she covered me from toe to head in the
brown muck I
thought of fulien sorel in Thc Ren and the Btccrc, dissimulating
and
silent for the sake of ambition, his pride often shattered, but
beneath
it all solid in his superiority. so I kept my mouth shut even
as her
hands lathered me in the corour of dirt. A few days later I did
question Shadwell about the possibility o not being covered
in shit
for my dbut as a professional aor. Shadwell was concise
for once.
That's the fucking costume! When you so eagerly accepted your
part d you think Mowgli would be wearing a kaftan? A
lrst<ver
Saint-Laurent suit?'
'But Mr shadwell - feremy I feel wrong in it. I feel
that together
we're making the world uglier.,

lou'll sutvive"

He was right. But just when I was feeling at home in the roindoth
and boot polish, and when I,d learned my lines before
anyone else
and was getting as competent as a littre orang-utan on the
scaffolding, I saw that our conflicts hadn't ended. shadwell took
me aside

t46

and said, 'A word about the accent, Karim. I think it should be an
authentic accent.'
'IAIhat you mean authentic?'
'Where was our Mowgli born?'
'Inrlia.'
1es. Not orpington. What accent do they have in India?'
'Indian accents.'
Ten out of ten.'
'No, feremy. Please, no."
'Karim, you have been cast for authenticity and not for experience.'
I could hardly believe it. Even when l d believe it we discrrssed it
several times, but he wotrldn't tange his mind.
Just try it,' he kept saying as we went outside the rehearsal room

to argue.

Aou'r

very cons ryative, Karim. Try it until you feel

comortable as a Bengi. You're supposed to be an aor, but I

suspect you may iust be an exhibitionist.'
Jeremy, help me, I can't do this.'
Ie shook his head. I swear, my yes were melting.
A few days passed without the accent being mentioned again.
Duringthis time Shadwell had me concentrate on the animalnoises I
was to make between the ogue, so that when, for instance, I was
talking to l(aa the slithering snake, who saves Mowgu-s life, I had to
hiss. Terry and I had to hiss together. When hissing, the thought of
Dad lecturing to Ted and Jean at Carl and Marianne's vas an d.
Being a human zoo was acceptable,'provided the Indian accent was
of the menu.
Next time it was mentioned the entire cast was pr sent.
'Now do the accent,'Shadwell suddenly said. 'I tmstyou've been
rehearsing at home.'
Jeremy,'I pleaded. 'Is a political matter to me.'
He looked at me violently. The cast watched me too, most of them
sympathetically. One of them, Boyd, had done EST and assertiontraining, and primal therapy, and liked to hurl chairs across the
room as an expression of spontaneous feeling. I wondered i he
might not have some spontaneous feeling in my defence. But he said
nothing. I looked towards Terry. As an active Trotskyite he encouraged me to speak of the prejuce and abuse I'd faced being the son
of an Indian. In the evenings we talked of inequality, imperialism,

white supremacy, and whether sexual experimentation was merely

bourgeois indulgence or a contribution to the ssolution of established society. But now, like the others, Terry said nothing but stood
there in his tracksuit waiting to slide hissingly acoss the loor once
more. I thought: You prefer generalizations like 'after the revolution
the workers will wake up filled with unbelievable ioy' to standing up
to fascists like Shadwell.
Shadwell spoke sternly. 'Karm, this is a talented and expensive
grouP of highly trained aors. They are ready to work, hungry to
act, full of love for their humble craft, keen, eager and eenhed. But
you, only you I am afraid, yes, only you out of everyone here, are
holding back the entire produion. Are you going to rnake the
appropriate concession this experienced director requires from
you?'
I wanted to run out of the room, back to South London, where I
belonged, out of which I had wrongly and arrogantly stepped, I
hated Shadwell and everyone in the cast.
'Yes,' I said to Shadwell.
That night in the pub I dn't sit at the sme table as the others but
moved into the other bar with my pint and ner'sPaPer. I despised
the other aors for not sticking up for me, and for sniggering at the
accent when I finally did it. Terry left the group he was sitting with
and joined me.
'Come on,' he said, 'have another drink. Don't take it so badly, it,s
always crap for aors.' 'Crap for aors' was his favourite
expression. Everything always seemed to be crap for actors and you
just had to put up with it - while the present comrption continued.
I asked if people like Shitr,r'ell, as we called him among other
things, would shove me around after the revolution; whether
there'd be theaEe directors at all or whether we'd all get a turn at
telling the others where to stand and what to wear. Terry dn,t
appear to have thought about this before and he puzzted over it,
staring into his bitter and a bag of smoky bacon cisps.
There \'itl be theatre directors,' he said evenfually. ,I think. But
the ll be eleed by the cast. If they are a pain the cast will throw
them out and they'll return to the faory they came from.,
'Factory? How will we get people like Shadwell into factories in
the first place?'
Terry looked shifty now; he was on sloping gtound.
148

'He'll be required to do it.'

'Ah.By

orce?'

There's no reason why the same people should do all the shit
work, is there? I dot like the idea of people ordering other people
to do work they wouldn't touch themselves.'
I liked Terry more than anyone I'd met for a long time, and we
talked every day. But he d believe the working class - which he
referred to as if it $rene a single-willed person - would do somewhat
unlikely things. The working cLass will take care of those bastards
very easily,'he said, referring to racist organizations. "The working
cLass is about to blow,' he said at other tirnes. 'They've had enough

of the l-abour Party. They want the transformation of society now!'

His talk rnade me think of the housing estates near Mum's house,
where the 'working class' would have laughed in Terr5/s face those, that is, who wouldn't have smacked him round the ear for
calling them working dass in the fust place. I wanted to tell him that
the proletariat of the suburbs d have strong class feeling- It was
virulent and hate-filled and dirced entirely at the people beneath
them. But there were some things it was hopeless to discuss with
him. I guessed that he didn't intervene in my dispute with Shadwell
because he wanted the situation to deteriorate furtlrer. Terry dn't

believe in social workers, left-wing politicians, radical lawyers,

liberals or gradual improvement. He wanted things to get wose
rather than better. When they lvere at their nadir there would be a
transformation. So for things to get better they had to get worse; the
worse they were the better they'd be in the future; they couldn't
even start to get better before they'd started to go drastically
downhill. This was how I interpreted his arguments. It exasperated
him. He asked me to ioin the Party. He said I should join to prove
that my commitsnent to the ending of injustice wasn't hot air. I
said I would sign up with pleasure on one condition. He had to kiss
me. This, I said, would prove his commitment to overcoming his
inbred bourgeois rnorality. He said that maybe l wast ready to join
the Party iust yet.
Terr;/s passion or equality appealed to my purer mind, and his
hatred of existing authority appealed to my resentments. But
although I hated inequality, it didn't mean I wanted to be treated like
everyone else. I recognized that what I liked in Dad and Charlie was
their insistence on standing apart. I liked the power they had and
t49

the attention they received. I liked the way people admired and
indulged them. So despite the yellow scarf shangling my balls, the
brown make-up, and even the accent, I relished being the pivot of
the produion.
I started to make little demands of Shagbay. I required a longer
resg and could I be driven home by someone, as I felt so tired? I had
to have Assam tea (with a touch of lapsang sourong) available at all
times during rehearsal. Could that actor slide a little to the right; no,
a little further. I began to see that I could ask for the things I needed.
I gained confidence.

I spent tittle time at home no$r, so I was unable to be a detailed

wibress to the Great l"ove in the same aocount-keeping way as

before" I did notice that Eva's absorption in the partiolars of Dad's

life had waned. They saw fewer Satyaiit Ray films now, and went
less to lndian stauants; Eva gave up learning Urdu and listening
to sitar music at breakfast. She had a neur interest she was

launching a huge campaign. Eva was Planning her assault on

London.
At the flat there were drinks parties and little dinners every week,
which irritated me, as I had to wait for everyone to finish filling the
air with their thoughts on the latest novel before I could go to bed on
the sofa. And often, after a da s reheatlsal, I had to listen to
Shadwell telling the dinner Paty hol^' well his produon o The
|ungte Bookwas going, how 'expressionisti it was. Fortunately Eva

and Dad were often out, as Eva accepted l the numerous invitations she and Dad received from directors, novelists, editorial

assistants, proof-readers, pou6, and whoever else it was she met' I noticed that at these 'ds', as I still called them, to rile her, Eva
was construing an artistic persona for herself. People like her loved
artists and anything 'artisti; the word itself was a philtre; a whiff of
the sublime accompanied its mention; it was an entrance to the
uncontrolled and inspired. Her kind would do anything to append
the heavey word 'artis to themselves. (They had to do it

themselves - no one else would.) I heard Eva say once, 'I'm an artist,
a designer, my team and I do houses.'
In the old days, when we were an ordinary suburban family, this
pretentious and snobbish side of Eva amused Dad and me' And it
had seemed, for,a time, to be in retreat - perhaps bccause Dad was
its grateful recipient. But now the show-off quotient was increasing
150

daily. It was impossible to ignore. The problem was, Eva was not
unsuccessfu! she was not ignored by London once she started her
assault. She was climbing ever higher, day by day. It was fantastic,

the number of lunches, suPPers, dinners, picnics, paies, c P

tions, rampagne breakfasts, openings, dosings, fist nights, last
nights and late nights these l,ondon people went to, They never
stopped eating or talking or looking at people performing. As Eva
started to take London, moving forward over the foreign fields of
Islington, chiswick and Wandsworttr inr by int, party by party,
conta by conta, Dad thoroughly enjoyed hfunsel. But he
how important it was to Eva. lt was at a
wouldn't
dinner party in the flat, when they were in the kitren together
fetching yogurt and raspberries, that I heard for the first time oire of
them turn on the other in ang r. Eva said' or Chriss salte, can't
you cut down on the bloody mysticism - we're not in Beckenham
now. These ale bright, intelligent people, the/re used to argument,
not assertion, to facts, not vapours!'
Dad threw back his head and laughed, not feeling the force of her
criticism. 'Eva, dot you understand one plain thing? They have to
let go of their rationality, of their interrrinable thinking and bothering over everything. They have control mania! Is only when we let
go of life and allow our innate wisdom to flourish that we live!'
He picked up the desserts and hurried into the room, addr,essing
the table in these terms, Eva becoming more furious until an intense

discussion broke out about the imporance of intuion in the

breakthrough stage of science. The party flowered.

During this time Dad was discovering how much he liked other
people. And, having no idea how important this or that person was,
whether they worked for the BBC or the TLS or the BFI, he treated
them with equal condescension.
One night, after a rehearsal and drinks with Terry, I came into the
flat to find Charlie getting dressed in Eva and Das Hnoom,
prancing in front of a full-length mirror which leaned against the
partition wall. At first I dn't recognize him. Ater all, I'd seen only
photographs of his new personality. His hair was dyed black now,
and it was sp\. He wore, inside out, a slashed T-shirt with a red
swastika hand-pnted on it. His black trousers were held together

by safety-pins, paperclips and needles. over ths he had a black

t5a

mackintosh; there were five belts strapped around his waist and a
sort of grey linen nappy attached to the back of his trousers. The
bastard was wearing one of my green waistcoats, too. And Eva was
weeping.
'lt\Ihas the matter?' I said.
'Keep out of this,' said Charlie, sharply.
'Please, Charlie,' Eva implored him. 'Please take off the swastika. I
don't care about anything else.'
'In that case I'll keep it on.'

'Charlie

-'

'I've always hated your fucking nagging.'

'Is not nagging, is for com1nssion.'
'Right. I won't be coming back here, Eva. You're such a drag now.
Is your age. Is it the menopause thas making you like this?'
Beside Charlie on the floor was a pile of dothes from whir he

pulled iackets, macs and irts before throwing them aside as

unsuitable. He then applied black eye-liner. He walked out of the
flat without looking at either of us. Eva saeamed after him, Think of
those who died in the camps! And don't expect me to be there
tonight, you pig! Charlie, you can forget my support for ever!'
As arranged, I went to Charlis gig that night, at a dub in Soho. I
took Eva with me. It dn't take much to persuade her to come and
nothingwould have prevented me from seeing preciselywhatit was
that had tumed my schoolriend into what the Daily Express called 'a
phenomena'. I even made sure we got there an hour early in order to
take everything in. Even then the queue for the gig stretched around
the block. Eva and I walked amont the kids. Eva was excited and

some older men in rg os expensive casual clothes, Fiorucci jeans and

suede boots, with Cuban heels for Chriss sake, were chasing the
band, hoping to sign them.
What, then, had Charlie done since that night in the Nashville?
He'd got in with the punks and seen immediately what they were
doing, what a renaissance this was in music. He'd changed the
group's name to the Condemned and his ownname toCharlie Hero.
And as the mood of British music snapped from one paragm to

another, from lush Baroque to angry gaa1e, he'd forced and

battered Mustn't Grumble into becoming one of the hottest New
Wave or punk bands around.
Eva's son was continually being chased by national papers,
magazines and semioticians for quotes about the new nihilism, the
new hopelessness and the new music which expressed it. Hero was

to explain the despair of the young to the baffled but interested,

which he did by spitting at iournalists or just punching them. He
had a smart head, Charlie; he leamed that his success, like that of the
other bands, was guaranteed by his ability to insult the media.
Fortunately, Charlie had a talent for cmelty. These insults were
published widely, as were his other assaults on hippies, love, the
Queen, Mick |agger, political activism and punk itself. 'We're shit,'
he proclaimed one night on early evening television. 'Can't play,
can't sing, can't write songs, and the shitty idiot people love us!'
Two outraged parents were reported as having kicked in their TV
screens at this. Eva even appeared in the Daily Minor under the
headline: 'puNK MUM sAys I'M pRouD or uy soN!'

The Fish ensured that Charlie was in the news and firmly
established as a Face. He was also ensuring that their first record,

perplexed and intimidated by the crowd. 'How has Charlie done

this?' she kept asking. 'We'll soon find out,' I said. 'Do their mothers
know they're here?' she asked. 'Does he really know what he's
doing, Kaim?' Some of the kids were as young as twelve; most were
about seventeen. They were dressed like Charlie, mostly in black.
Some of them had orange- or blue+treaked hair, making them look
like cockatoos. They elbowed and fought and gave each other
tongue-sandwiches, and spat at passers-by and in each othes
faces, there in the cold and rain of decayrng [,ondon, with the
indifferent police looking on. As a concession to the New Wave I
woe a black shirt, black ieans, white socks and black suede shoes,
but I knew I had uninteresting hair. Not that I was the only one:

The Brfuk of Chrr's, would be out in a few weeks. offence had already
been caused. With luck the record would be vilified and banned,
guaranteeing crebility and financial success. Charlie was well on
his way at last.
That evening, as always, the Fish was polite and gentlemanly. He
reassured Eva that he and Charlie knew exactly what they were
doing. But she was anxious. She kissed the Fish and dutched his
arm, and openly begged him, 'Please, please, don't let my son
become a heroin addict. You've no idea how weak he is.'
The Fish got us a good position at the back of the dub, where we
stood on.wooden beer crates holdint on to each other as the floor

152

a53

seemed about to crack open with heat and stomping. I soon felt as if
the entire audience were lying on top of me - and the band were still
in the dressint rq)m-

They came on. The place went berserk. The Condemned had
thrown out everything of their former existence - their hair, clothes,
music. They were unrecognizable.
And they weFe nervous, not quite at ease yet in their new clothes.
They crashed through their set as if they wele in a competition to see

who could get through the most songs in the shortest time,

soundinglike an unrehearsed version of the group Charlie and I had

seen in the Nashville. Charlie no longer played rhythm guitar b'ut
stood dutching a mike stand at the edge of the stage, howling at the
kids, who pogo d like road drills, and spat and lobbed bottles until
the stage was littered with broken glass. He got cut on the hand.
Beside me, Eva gasped and covered her face. Then Charlie was
smearing blood over his ace and wiping it over the bass guitarist.
The rest o the Condemned were still nonentities, the derks and

Gvil Servants

of the music business. But Charlie was magnificent

in

his venom, his manufacfured rage, his anger, his defiance. What

power he had, what admiration he extorted, what looks there were

in grls'eyes. He was brilliant: he'd assembled the right elements. It
wa a wonderful trick and sguise. The one flaw, I giggled to

myself, was his milky and healthy white teeth, which, to me,

he wanted. Until this moment I'd felt incapable of operating

effeively in the world; I didn't know how to do it; events tossed me
about. Now I was beginning to see that it dn't necessarily have to

be that way. My happiness and progress and education could

depend on my own aivity- as long as it was the right aivity at the
right time. My coming aPPearance nThe lungle Book was meagre in
comparison with Charlie's triumph, but soon eyes would be on me;
it was a start, and I felt strong and deterrrined. It would lead

upwards.
As we got into the car I looked at Eva and she smiled at me. I felt
she hadn't been thinking about Charlie at all - except as an
inspiration - but that, like me, she'd been dwelling on what she
might do in the world. D.iving us back home, Eva banged the
steering wheel and sang, and yelled out of the window.
'lAleren't they great? Isn't he a star, I(arim!'
'Yeah, yeah!'
They're going to be big, Karim, rey hr.lge. But Charlie will have
to iettison that group. He can make it on his own, don't you think?'
'Yeah, but what will happen to them
Those boys?' She waved them away. 'But our boy's going up. Up!
Up!' She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek- 'And you too,

OK?'

betrayed everything else.

Then a riot started. Bottles lew, strangers punched each other
and a tooth flew down Eva's deavage. I had blood all orrer me. Girls
passed out on the floor; ambulances were called. The Fish efficiently
tot us out.
l was thoughrrl as we walked thrcugh Soho that night. Beside
me, Eva, in her ieans and tennis shoes, stepped along lightly, trying
to hum one of Charlie's songs and keep up with my fast pace.
Eventuy she took my ann. We were so easy with each other, we
could have been going out together. We said nothing; I presumed
she was speculating about Charlie's future. On my side, I bumed
with less envy of Charlie than I'd imagined I would. This was
because one strong feeling dominated me; ambition. As yet it was
unfocused. But I was completely impressed by Charlie's big con
trick, by his having knocked on the door of opportunity and its
opening up to him, its goods tumbling out. Now he could take what

The dress rehearsal o The |ungle Book went well. We were l

surprised by how smooth it was; no one forgot their lines, and
technically all was fine. So we went into the first preview, in front of

454

155

an auence, with plenty of confidence. The costumes were amusing

and the audience applauded them. The naughty monkeys screeched
their high-pitched calls as the Pack Coun met to scuss the man

cub's future. But as Shere Khan growled from the stance in his
Hamlet's ghost voice, 'The cub is mine. Give him to me. What have
the Free People to do with a man's cub?' I heard a cracking noise
above me. Unprofessionally, I looked up, to see the iron net of the
scaffolding bending, swaying and finally tipping towards me as
bolts snapped and lights crashed down on to the floor of the stage.
Voices in the audience shouted out warnings to us. Most of the front
row jumped to their feet and fled up the aisle away from the danger.
I deserted the play, as did the other actors on stage, and leapt into
the audience. I landed on Shadwell, who was already on his feet

screaming at the technicians. The play was abandoned for that night
and the audience sent home. The rows wete horrific, Shadwell a
nonster. Two other previews \'er cut. There was to be only one

preview before the first night.

Nahrry, I wanted Mum to be at the first n[ht, and Dad too. But
as they hadn't seen ear othersince the day theyboth left the house,
I dn't think my dbut in Thc lungle Boolc was the best tinre for a
reunion. So I invited Mun, with Unde Ted and Auntie fean, to the
preview. This time nothing went wont. Aftennrards, Unde Ted,
who had his suit and Brylcreem on, announced a treat. He would
take us out to Trader Vics at tlre Hilton Hotel. Mum had dressed
up, and was looking l sweet in a blue dress with a bow at the front.
She was teerful, too; l'd forgotten how h"ppy she could be. tn a fit

of unshlmess she'd left the shoe shop and was working as

Like a fool, I'd forgotten that Dad thought honesty a virtue. He

was a compassionate man, Dad, but never at the expense of drawing

attention to his own opinions.

'Bloody half-cocked business,' he said. That bloody fucker Mr

Kipling pretending to whity he knew something about India! And
an awful performance by
boy looking like a Black and White
Minstrel!'

^y

Eva restrained Dad. 'Karim was assured,' she said firmly, patting
my arm.
Fortunately, Changez had chuckled all through the show. 'Good
entertainment,' he said. Take me again, eh?'
Before we sat down in the restaurant famila took me aside and
kissed me on the mouth. I felt Changez's eyes on me.
'You looked wonderful,' she said, as i she were speaking to a ten_
year-old after a school play. 'So innocent and young, showing off
your pretty body, so thin and perfey fornred. But no doubt about
lt, the play is completely neo-ascist -'

receptionist at a doctos praice. She begran to discrrss illness with

authority.
Mum wept with pride at my Mowgli. fean, who hadn't wept since
the death of Humphrey fugart, laughed a great deal and was goodtempered and drunk.
'I thought it would be more amateu.r,' she kept sym& obviously
surprised that I could be involved in anything that wasn't a total
failure. ut it was rey professional! And fancy meeting those
television aors!'
The key to impressing Mum and Auntie fean, and the best way to
keep their tongues off the risible subiect of my loin<loth, which
inevitably had them quaking with laughter, was to introduce them
to the aors aften^'ards, telling them which sit_coms and police
programmes the/d seen them in. After dinner we went dancing in a
night dub in the West End. I'd never seen Mum dance before, but
she slipped out of her sandals and danced with Auntie fean to the
fackson Five. It was a grand evening.
However, I imagined that the praise I received that night was
merely to be a preview of the stearring sauna oappreciation that I'd
receive after the first nitht. So after the opening I ran out of the
dressing room to where Dad, in his red waistcoat, was wting with
the others. None of them looked particularly cheerful. We walked
up the street to a restaurant nearby, and stiil no one spoke to me.
'Well, Dad,' I asked, trow d you enjoy yoursel.| Aren't you gtad I
didn't become a doctor?'

Jammie -'
'And dichs about Inans. And the accent- nry God, how could
you do it? I expect you're ashamed, aren't you?'
'l am, actually.'
But she dn't Piw me; she rnimicked my accent in the play.
'Acfually, you've got no morality, have you? Yoll get it later, l
cxpect, when you can afford it.'
'You're going too far, famila,'I said, and turned my back on her. I
went and sat with Changez.
The only other significant event of the evening was soniething
that happened between Eva and Shadwell at the far end of the
restaurant, beside the toilet. Shadwell was leaning back against the
wall and Eva was angry with him, making hard gestures with her
fists. Many bitter shades of sgust and pain and deieion passed
over his face. At one point Eva turned and gesticulated towards me,
as i she were taking him to task for something he'd done to me' Yes,
Shadwell had let her down. But I knevrthat nothing would ever
discourage him; he'd never give up wanting to be a director, and
he'd never be any good.

156

157

tammie -'
'And it was sgusting, the accent and the shit you had smeared

over you. You were just pandering to preiuces

-'

So that was it. The lungle Bookwas not mentioned again by any of
them, as if they weren't ready to see me as an actor but preferred me

in my old role as a useless boy. Yet the play did good business,
especially with schools, and I started to relax on stage, and to enioy
acting. I sent up the accent and made the auence laugh by
suddenly relapsing into cockney at odd times. 'Leave it out,
Bagheera,'I'd say. I liked being recognized in the pub afterwards,
and made myself conspicuous in case anyone wanted my autoBraph.

Sometimes Shadwell came in to watch the show, and one day he

started being nice to me. I asked Terry why this was. 'I'm baffled
too,' he said. Then Shadwell took me to foe Alles and offered me a
part in his next produion, which would be Molire's It Bourgmis
Gentilhomme. Terry, whose gentleness of heart so melted my own

that t helped him sell his newspapers outside faories, on picket

lines and outside East End tube stations at seven-thirty in the
morning, v\'as encouaging. 'Accept it,' he said. 'Ill do you good.
'Course, is crap for aors, but it's experience for you.'
Unlike the other aors - the/d been in the business mur longer
than I had - I had no idea what work I could get. So I accepted.
Shadwell and I embraced. Eva said nothing about it.
'\/hat about you, Terry?' I asked one evening. 'Have you tot any
work lined up?'
'Oh yeah.'
"What?'

'Nothing precisely,'he said. 'But m wting for the call.'

'What call?'
'I can't tell you that, I&rim. But I can say confidently that the call is
going to come.'
When I tumed up at the theatre and Terry and I got changed next
to ear other, I frequently made a point of mFng to him, 'Well,
Terty, has the c come yet? Has Peter Brook rung?'

Or one of us would rush into the dressing room iust

before

one night, hal-way through the run, the box-office malurger

cxcitedly rang through to us back-stage and said that the theatre
director Matthew {ke had booked a ticket ot Tlw |ungle Book.
Within fifteen minutes everyone in the cast - apart from me - was
talking about this. I'd never seen such chatter, nervousness and
exhilaration in the dressing room before. But I did know how cmcial
such visits by hot directors were to actors, who worried constantly
ubout thei next job. The|ungle Book the d forgotten about itwas in
the past. Now they sat in the tiny dressing Kx)m, their washing
hanging on the radiators, eating health ood and tirelessly sending
information and soft-focus photographs of themselves to dir,eors,
theatres, agents, TV companies and producers. And when agents or
easting directors deigned to see the show, and stayed to the end,
which was rare, the aors cTowded around them aftenrlards,
buying them drinks and roaring with laughter at anything they said.
'[hey ached to be remembered: upon such memories an ao1s life
dcpended.
This was why Pyke's appearance was so exciting. He was our
most important visitor ever. He had his own company. You dn't
have to go through him to get to someone who counted: he counted
ln his own right. But why had he come to see our pissy show? We
couldn't work it out, although I noticed that Terry was being very
cool about the whole thing.
Before the show some of us crowded into the tiny lighting box as
l)yke, in his denim dungarees and white T-shirt - he still had long
hair - took his seat. He was accompanied by his wife, Marlene, a
middle-aged blonde. We watched hirn consult the programme,
turning each page and examining our faces and the oblong patch of
biography beneath the photographs.
The rest of the cast stood outside and waited for their turn to get a
look at Pyke. I said nothing, but I had no idea who Pyke was and
what he'd done. Was it plays? Films? Opera? Television? Was he
American?

At last I asked Terry; I knew he wouldn't be

con-

temptuous of my ignorance. Terry eagerly gave me the whole

curtain-up and tell Terry there rvas someone who urgently needed
to tk to him on the phone. Twice he fell for it, running half_dressed
out of the room and instructing everyone to hold the show for a few
minutes. He wasn't thrown by our malice. 'I'm not bothered by your
childish games. I know the c's going to come. It's not something
that makes me anxious at all. I'm going to wait patiently.'

biography.
Pyke was the star of the lourishing alternative theatre scene; he
lvas one of the most original directors around. He'd worked and
taught at the Magic Theater in San Francisco; had therapy at the

158

159

picture; he seemed to know enough about Pyke to write his

Esalen lnstitute in Big Sur with Fritz Perls; worked in New York with
Chaikin and La Mama. In London, with a couple of contemporaries
from Cambridge, he started his own company, the Movable
Theatre, for which he d two ravishing produions a year.
These produions played in London at the end of their wellmeant journey around arts centr s, youth dubs and studio theatres.
Fashionable people attended the London opening: there were bright

rock-stars, other aors like Terence stamP, politicos like Tariq Ali,
most of the ordinary aing profession, and even the public. Pyke's
shows were also commended for their fantastic interrrissions,
dazzling occasions where the fashionable auence came dressed in
such style they resembled Chinese peasants, industrial workers
@oiler suits) or South American insurgents (bercts).
Natury Terry had hard-line views on this, and as we changed
or the show on that charged night he proclaimed them to the entire
cast, as if he were addressing a meeting.
'Comrades, what is Pyke's stuff? What is it, after all - just think for
a minute - but a lot of refomrist and flatulent "left-wing" politics! Is
plump aors pretending to be working dass, when their fathers are
neuro-srrrgeons' Is voluptuous actresses - even more beautiful
than you all are - hand-picked and caressed by fuke! Why do they
always perform the whole show in the nude? Ask yourself these
questions! Is fucking crap for aors, comrades. Absolute crap for
actors!'

The other aors shouted Terry down.

'It's not crap for actors!' they cried. 'At least it's decent work after
doing 77re lungle Bunny and thrillers and beer commercials.'
Terry had taken of his trousers by now, and two women in the
cast were looking through a gap in the curtain as he prepared to
propagate his analysis of Pyke. Slowly he hung his trousers on a
hanger, which he placed on the communal rail which ran through
the dressing room. He liked girls looking at his musdy legs; he liked
them hearing his musdy arguments, too.
'oh yes,' he said. lou're right. There's truth in what you say. It's
better than fuck_all. Much better' Thas why, comrades, Isent $lke
my particulars.'
Everyone groaned. But with Pyke to impress in the auence we
had good reason to spring energetically over the scaffolding. The
show was the best it had ever been, and its proper length, for once.

ro

Recently we'd been taking ten minutes a night off it in order to have
more time in the pub" Ater this show we changed quickly, without

the usual bickering and jokes and attempts to pull ear othe/s
underpants off. Naturally I was the slowest, huri.g the most to
nemove. There wast a working shower and I had to dean off my
make-up with cold-cream and by splashing water from the sink over
myself. Terry waited impatiently for me. When I'd finished and it
was just the two of us left I put my arrrs around him and kissed his
ace.

'Come on,'he sd. 'Les move. Pyke's waiting for me.'

'Les stay here for a while.'

'why?'

I said, 'I'm thinking oioining the Pay.I want to disarss various

ideological problems I have.'

'Bollocks,'he said. He moved away from me. 'I'm not against

this,'he said.
'What?'

Touching.'
But he was against it.
'Is just that I have to think about my future right now. My call has
eome, IGrim.'
'Yeah?' I said. 'Is this it? Is this the call?'
1eah, this is fucking it,' he said. 'Please. Come on.'
'Do up my buttons,' I said.

'Christ. You. You stupid boy. OK. Come on. Pyke's waiting for

We hurried to the pub. I'd never seen Terry look so hopeful about
anything before. I rey wanted him to get the job.
Pyke was leaning against the bar with Marlene, srppint a half of
lager. He didn't look the drinking type. Three of our company went
up to him and chatted briefly. \ke replied, but barely seemed
bothered to rnove his lips. Then Shadwell came into the pub, saw
Pyke, nodded contemptuously at us, and left. Instead of going over
to Pyke, Terry led me to a corner table among the old men who
drank alone every night, and there he calmly sucked his roll-ups as
we sipped our usual pint with a whisky chaser.
'Pyke's not showing nuch interest in you,' I pointed out.
Terry was confident. 'He'll be over. He's very cold - you know
what mide-class people are like. No feelings. I reckon he wants my

r6r

wokin8-class exPerience to Bve his puerile political ideas some

authenticity.'
'Say no,'I advised him.
I bloody might. Critics always say his work's "austere" or
"puritanical" because he likes bare raked stages and theatres with
their brickwork sticking out over the place and no props. As if my
mum and the working dass like that. They want comfortable seats,
french windows and sweets.'
Just then Pyke tumed towards us and raised his glass a fraion of
an inch. Terry smiled back.
''Course, f}kie's got his virtues. He's not sel_promoting tike
those other cunt direors and conduors and producers who iust
live off other people's talent. He never does interviews and he never
go s on telly. He's good like that. But,' said Terry d*kly, leaning
towards me, 'this is something you should know, if you're lucky
enough to work with him one day.'
He told me that Pyke's private life wasn't a desert of austere and
puritanical praices' If the inevitably defornred critics who admired
his work - and the critics who sat with their faces pointing up at us
d seem to have the countenances of gargoyles, while the aisles
wene cratruned with their wheelchairs - knew of certain weaknesses
- certain indulgences, let us say - they would see Plrke's work in a
fferent light. 'oh yes, a very different light.'
'What kind of litht?'
'I cat tell you that.'
'But, Terry, surely we hide nothing from ear other7
'No, no, I can't say. Sorry.'
Terry dn't gossip. He believed that people wer,e made by the
forces of history, not by gr ed, matrice and lust. And
besides, Pyke was now walking straight towards us. Terry hurriedly
stubbed out his roll_up, pushed his rair back and got up. His hand
even went up to flatten his hair. He shook hands with Pyke. Then he
introduced us to ear other.
'Nice to see you, Terryi Pyke said smootlrly.
1eah, and you, and you.'
1ou make an excellent srrake.'
Thank you. But thank God someone's doing some dassy work in
this oumby country, eh?'
'I/ho do you mean?'

t6z

'You, Matthew.'
'Oh yes. Me.'
'Yes.'

Pyke looked at me and smiled. 'Come and have a drink at the bar,

Karim.'

,MC?'

'Why not?'
'oK. See you later, Terry/ I sd.
As I got up Terry looked at me as if I'd just announced I had a
private income. He sank back into his chair as Pyke and I walked
away from the table, and tossed the whisky down his throat.
As Pyke got rne a half of bitter l stood there regarng the rows of
lnverted bottles behind the barman's head, not looking at the other
actors in the pub, who I knew were all staring at me. I metated for
a few seconds, concenEating on my breathing, immediately aware
o how shallow it was. When we were set up with drinls, Pyke said,
'Tell me about yourself"'
I hesitated. I looked at Marlene, who was standing behind us,
tolking to an aor. 'I dot know where to begin.'
'Tell me something you think might interest me.'
And he looked at me with full concentration. I had no choice. I
began to talk rapiy and at random. He said nothing. I went on. I
thoughh I am being psychoanalysed. I began to imagine that Pyke
would understand everything I said. I was glad he was there; there
were things it was necessary to say. So I told him things I'd never
told anyone - how much I resented Dad for what he'd done to Mum,
and how Mum had sufered, how painfrrl the whole thing had been,
though I was only now beginning to feel it.
The other aors, who were now' gathered around Terr5/s table
with iars of yellow beer in front of them, had turned their chairs
around to watch me, as i I were a footb match. They must have
been amazed and resentful that Pyke wanted to listen to me, of all
people, someone who was barely an actor. When I faltered as the
realization hit me that it wasn't Mum who'd neglected me, but I
who'd negleed Mum, $ke said gently, 'I think you may like to be
in my next production.'
I woke from my introspective dream and said, 'What kind of show
will it be?'
I noticed that when Pyke was about to talk he put his head
a61

thoughtfully to one side and looked away into the stance. He used
his hands flirtatiouslp slowly, not flapping or pointing but caressing
and floating, as i wiping his flat hand inches from the surface of a
painting. He said, 'I don't know.'

'What'kind of part will it be?'

He shook his head regretfully.

'I'm afraid I can't begin to say.'

'How many people will be in it?'

There was a long pause. His hand, with the fingers splayed and
taut, waved in front of his face.
'Don't ask me.'
'Dyou know what you're doing?'I asked, more bravely.
'No.'

'Well, I dot know i I want to work in that vague kind of way. m

inerperienced, you know.'
Pyke conceded. 'I think it may revolve around the only subject
there is in England.'
'I see.'
1es.'

He looked at me as if I were sule of what this was.

'Class,' he said. 'Is that OK for you?'
'Yes, I think so.'
He touched me on the shoulder. 'Good. Thankyou forioining us.'
It was as if I were doing him a big favour.
I finished my drink, quily said goodbye to the other aors and
got out as fast as I could, not wanting to register their smirks and
curiosity. I was wking across the car park when someone iumped
on lny back. It was Terry.
'Leave it out,' I said sternly, pushing him off.
'Oh yeah.'
There were no laughs in his face. He looked very low. He made
me feel ashamed of my sudden happiness. I walked to the bus stop
in silence with him beside me. It was cold, dark and raining.
'Has Pyke offered you a part?' he said at last.
1es.'

Suddenly I shouted out into the night air. 1es, yes, yes, it is true!'
And now the world had some tension in iU now it twanged and
vibrated with meaning and possibility! 'Yes, yes, fucking yes!'
When I got to the theatre next day someone had laid a dirty red
carpet from the dressing-room door to the spot where I normally
changed. 'Can I help you off with your dothes?' one aor said: 'Can
t have your autograph?' sd another. I received daffodils, roses and
an acting primer. The EST freak, Boyd, said, as he took off his
trousers and shook his penis at me, '[f I weren't white and mide
class I'd have been in Pyke's show now' Obviously mere talent gets
you nowhere these days. Only the disadvantaged are going to
rucceed in seventies' England.'
For a few days I was too cowary to tell shadwell of {ke's offer,
and that I was not going to do the Molire. I was happy and dn't
want the pleasure of anticipation sorr1ed by a row with him. So
Shitvolumes started preparing his next show as if I were going to be
go up, he
l n i t, until one day, just be ote Tfu |ungle Book was about to
t'ame into the dressing room.
'Jeremy,' I said, 'I think I'd better tell you something.'
We went into the communal lavatory, the only private space backatnge, and I broke the news to him. Shadwell nodded and said
gently, 'You're being ungrateful, Karim. You shouldn't iust bugger
rrf, you know, it's not right' we all love you here, oK?'
'l'lease understand, feremy - {ke's a big man. Very important.
Surely there's a tide in the affairs of men which taken - '
Shadshit's voice suddenly rose to rehearsal pitch and he walked

out of the toilet and into the dressing room' Behind us in the
,ruditorium the show was about to begin, and the audience were in
thcir seats. They could hear every syllable. I felt particularly
ridiculous hurrying along behind him in my loin-cloth.
'What tide, you drowning prick?' he said. 'You haven't the
r.xperience to deal with Pyke- Yoll be mincemeat within three
tlays. You've got no idea what a tough fucking bastard Pyke is. He's
charming, all right. All interesting people have charm. But he'll
crucify you!'

'Liar!'

I said nothing. 'Liar!' he said. I knew he was so incensed he

couldn't control himself; I couldn't blarne him for the fury which
inhabited him. 'It can't be true, it can't be true,' he said.

'Why would he want to crucify a little Person like me?' I said

weakly. Boyd smirked and mouthed 'exactly' at Tgrryr, who ignored
him but seerned to be nodding in agreement with Shotbolt.

164

t65

Tor fun, you idiot! Because thas how people like that operate!
They pretend the re demosats but the/re little Lenins _ ,
Terry took ofence at this. He glared at Shadwell and said, They
should be so luy!' But Shoddy was not to be deterred now he was

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Boint.

Spring. Some time after I'd said goodbye to Bagheera, Baloo and the
rllhcrs, and get fucked to Shadwell, and dn't go to the last-night
'I don't care what you say- I can look after myset.,
'Ha!' he shouted. 'lAle'll fucking se - you little panrenu!,

pnrty, I was in a clean, bright rehearsal room with a polished

wtroden floor (so we could run around barefoot) in a church h by
ltrc river, near Chelsea Brid6e. There were six aors in Pyke's

Hr()uP, thrce men and three women. Two of us were

officiy'black'

(though tmly I was more beige than anything). None of us $ras over
lhirty. Only one woman, pinched-face Carol, also from the suburbs
(no t had her ambitious little number right away), had worked with
!'yke before. There was a red-traired wornan called Eleanor, in her
errrty twenties, who seemed experienced and sensible, and unlike
C'arol didn't fancy herself as a bit of a sta. And there was a ninete nyr.,rr-old black actress, Tracey, with firm but peculiar views. The
othcr two men, Richard (gay) and fon, were those solid, gmical,
|t bing aors who'd been around the London fringe for years,

nooms above pubs for a share of the box-office, in

brrsements, at festivals and in street theatre. They required little but

ar:ting

in

a good Part, a dircctor who wast a fool or a ctator, and a

r:omfortable pub near the venue with authenticbeer. There was so

writer in the group, Louise l-awrence, an earnest and self-satisfied

northem wornan with thick glasses who said little but wrote down
r:verything you said, especially if it was stupid.
At ten every moming I cyded into Ctrelsea, with Eva's mushrtloms-on-toast fuelling me, and rode around the hl with no hands
. in celebration of life. I'd never been so enthusiastic about anything.
'l'his was my big chance, in more ways than one.
Pyke, in his shiny blue tracksuit, wittr his athletic body and
greying hair, usuly sat at a table with his feet on a chair. He was
surrounded by laughing aors and the two stage-managers, adoring young women who were like his person servants. The stagemanagers looked ater his newsPaPers, his orange juice, and
planned his trips to New York. One of them canied his diary, the
other his pencils and sharpener. His car (which Richad refened to
o

t66

ft7

as'Py

'Concentrate on the n'ay you think your position in society has been

Penis
them.
dates
The atmosphere Pyke aeated was in contrast to shadwelt,s tense

ixed,'said Pyke.
Being sceptic and suspicious, the English sort to be embarrassed

by such a Califomian display of self, I found the life-stories accounts of contraion and wretredness, confusion and intermittent happiness - ody affecting. I gtgled all thrcugh l_awTnce's account of working in a San Francisco nurssirge parlour
(when she was sEanded there), where the women were not allowed
to proposition men directly in case they were cops. They had to say,

'la there any other muscle you'd like relaxed, sirZ This was where
lawrence scovered socialism, for here, in a forest of pricks and

plnd of semen, 'I soon realized that nothing human was ien to
me,' as she put it.

None of this seemed like work to me, and I loved to think of what
or us
s being

After lunch, to wamr up again, pyke had

where we stood in the cenke of a circle with
eyes dosed and just let ourselves fall. Weak

passed around the group. Everyone touched us; we embraced and

kissed. This was how Pyke fused the group. It seemed to me during
one of these games that Eleanor remained in my arrrs just that litd
bit longer than necessary.

which way pleasure's course will run. t,ll write down my pre_
ions, and on the last night of the show I'll read them out. ok?,
Dr.it g the second week the sun shone and we opened the doors.

wore an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt which

r8

sometimes knotted on

Richard talked about wanting to fuck only black men, and the
clube he cruised constantly in order to acquire them. And to Pyks
delight and my surprise Eleanor told of how she'd worked with a
woman performance artist who persuaded her to extract the texts of
po ms - 'Cows' teeth like snowdrops bite the garlic grass' - from her
vagina before reang them. The perorurance artist herself meanwhtle had a micr,ophone up her vagina and relayed the gqglings of
her cunt to the auence. This was enough for me. I was hot on
l'lleano/s tr' For the time being I gve up on Terry.
Every few days I rang famila to give her a full account of cows'
lceth like snowdrops, Pyks Penis, San Francisco, Hawaii and pop
up toasters. Everyone else was encouraging: Eva, having heard of
fuke, was very imprcssed; and Dad was huppy that I was working.

The only person I was certain would urinate on my flame was

famila.
So I explained the games and the reasoning behind them. 'Pyke's
o chrewd man,' I told her. 'By having us elpose ourselves he's made
us vulnerable and dependent on each other. We'rr so close as a
5roup is increble!'
'Pah. You're not close to each other. It's fake, iust a technique.'
'I thought you believed in cooperation and all. Communist shrff
like that.'
'Karim, shall I tell you whas been going on over here at the shop
while you've been over there hugging strangers?'
'Why, what?'
'.69

'No, I'm not going to talk to you. IGrim, you,re basically a

selfish
person, uninterested in anyone else.,

"!lIhat?'
back to being a t!ee., And she put the phone down.
_Go
Soon, in the momings,
we went our separate

rungs of the soci ladder. These people Louise lawr'ence

would

ey_entuty have to try and massage into the same

play. In th;
aftemoons we improvised around ttri raracters and
starte to build
Initially I thought I,d roose Charlie as my raracter, but
Pyke
discouraged
me immedirately. ,le need souieone rro^ yo*
=nes:
own background,' he said. ,Someone

black.,

1eah?'

dn't know anyone blaclg though I,d been at srool with

a
- -I
Nigerian.
But I wouldn,t know where to find him. ,IMho ao yoo
mean?'I asked.
'lt\Ihat about your family7 pyke said. ,Uncles and
aunts. The ll

give-the

qh{ u little variety. I ber they're fascinating.,

I thought for a few minutes.

Bengalis bought them up. Several brothers, say, would come to

l.ondon; they'd get two jobs each, in an office during the day and a
restaurant by night; the d buy a shop, installing one brother as
manage, with his wife behind the till. Then they'd get another shop
and do the same, until a chain was established. Money flowed. But
Anwar and feeta's shop had not changed in years. Business was
clack. Everything was going wrong, but I dn't want to think about
it. The play was too important.
I told feeta about the play and what I wanted - just to be around knowing she'd barely understand or be interested. But she did have
nonrething to say.

'Whatever you do,' she said, 'i you're going to come here day
oter day, you must stop your unde going out with his walking
ntick.'

'Why, Auntie feeta?'

'Karim, some thugs came here one day. They threw a pig's head
through the shop window as I sat here.'

in fact, were modernizing rapiy, as ambitious Pakistanis and

famila hadn't told me anything about this.

'Were you hurt?'
'A little cut. Blood here and there, Karim.'
'What d the police do?'
'They said it was another shop. A rival thing.'
'Bollocks.'
'Naughty boy, bad language.'
'Sorry, Auntie.'
'lt made your unde come very strange. He is roaming the streets
rvery day with his stick, shouting at these white boys, 'Beat me,
white boy, if you want to!"' And she blushed with shame and
r.mbarrassment. 'Go to him,' she said, and squeezed my hand.
I found Unde Anwar upstairs in his pyiamas. He seemed to have
nhrunk in the past few months: his legs and body were emaciated,
while his head remained the same size, perched on him like a globe
on a walking stick.
'You bastard,'he said in greeting, 'where have you beenT
'I'm here with you every day now.'
He grunted his approbation and continued to watch television.
l{e loved having me beside him, though he barely spoke and never
asked me about myself. For a few weeks he'd been visiting the
mosque regularly, and now I occasionally went with him. The

470

a77

'Any ideas?'he said.

'I've got just the thing", I said.

'Excellent. I knew you,d be the right person to be in
this show.,
After breakfast with Dad and Eva tcyed across the river,
past the
oval
Anwas shop. t was beginning to

he,d
think

l'i''kil:jTilsi:,T:

who had been counting on being

son - had become an old man, his

the fresh
element whil had turned
When I anived leeta got up from behind the till and hugged
me. I
noticed how grubby and gloomy paradise Stores looked
ow: paint
was peeling from the walls, the helves were dirty,
the lino oi tf,"

."ffiT'"":l'J[:i:yed"by

floor was curling and cracking, and

failed, leaving the place tenebrous.

boxes, even the vegetables looked forl

of saubbing off the racist graffiti which reappeared on

the walls

every time you removed it. other shops in the area,

all over London

3 |ilapidated terraced house nearby which smelled

o
bhuna gost. The floor was sprinkred with onionskins, and
Mourvi
_r-'osqu 'n'6g

Qamar-uddin sat behind his desk surrounded by reather-bound

books on Islam and a red telephone, stroking tire beard
which
reached to his stomach. Anwar complained to the Moulvi
that Allah
had abandoned him despite regular prayers and a refusal
to
womanize. Hadn,t he loved his wie and given her a
shop, and now
wasn't she refusing to go home to Bombay with him?
Anwar complained to me aboutfeeta as we sat in the store.room
_

like a couple of school tmants. I want to go home now,,

he said. ,I,ve
had enough of this damn place.
the days passed I watched teta,s progress. She certainly
-.?"J ""
dn't
want to go home. It was as i }amita trad educatea
n", ir,
possibility, the child being an example to the parent.
The princess
wanted to get a licence to sen liquor on the prremises;
she wanted to
sell newspapers and increase the stock. She could
see how it was

done, but Anwar was impos

with him. Like many Muslim

Mohammed himself, whose a

hot from God, inevitablygave
was right about everything. No

his head.
1/hy don't you want to take up
feeta,s ideas?, I asked him.
Tor what? What will I do with the profit? How many
shoes can I
wear? How many socks? How better witt I eat?
Ttrirty breakfasts
instead of one7 And he alwaYs said, finally, ,rverytrrini
is Perfe.,
'Vyou believe that, Uncle?, I asked or," auy.
'No,'he replied. ,Everything gets worse.,
His Muslim fatalisl - Allah was responsible for everything _
depressed me. I was ways glad to get away now.
I had a far more
exciting proiect heating up over thJ other siae or
the river. I had
chosen Eleanor to ft in love with, and was making
ss.
AT*! every day after rehearsal Eleanor said, asPog
t oped she
1ould, 'Are you coming over later, then, to keep me company?, And
she watched my face anxiously, biting her nails-""a,ippi"g
th" ,kir,
from aroundher fingernails with her teeth, and trristiij
h";br,g.J
hair around her fingers.
From the sta of rehearsal she had noticed my fear
and inexper_
ience, and offered consotation. Eleanor had already
.pp"- ir,
172

llms, on TV and in the West End. I felt like a boy beside her, but
lhere was something in her that needed me too, something weak
rather than kind or passionate, as if I \^lere a comort during an
lllness, someone to touch, perhaps. As soon as I saw this weakness I
eloeed in. I had never been seen with such a mature and beautiful
w()man before, and I encouraged her to go out with me so people
would think we r tere a couple.
I started going to her flat in Ladbroke Grove, an area that was
alowly being reconstituted by the rir, but where Rasta dope dealers
;till hung around outside the pubs; inside, they opped up the
hanh on the table with their knives. There were also many punks
around now, dressed, like Charlie, in ripped black. This was the
aeme o fashion. As soon as you got you dothes home you had to
;lnsh them with razor-blades. And there were the kids who wer,e
rceearchers and editors and the like: the d been at Oxford together
end they swooped up to wine bars in bright little red and blue ltalian
cara, afraid they would be broken into by the black kids, but too
prrlltically polite to ad<nowledge this.
But how stupid I was - how nve. I was misled by my ignorance
rlf London into thinking my Eleanor was less mide dass than she
lurned out to be. She dressed oughly, wearing a lot of scanres, lived
ln Notting Hill and - sometimes - talked with a Catford acrcent. My
lnother would have been appled by Eleano/s dothes and mannerg, and her saying 'shi and 'fuck' every ten seconds. This
wouldn't have perhuH Eva: she would have been disappointed
and perplexed by Eleanor/s concealment of her social origins and the
wry she took her 'connections' for granted. Eva would have given
much to edge her body into the houses Eleanor had played in as a
ehild.

Eleanos father was American and owned abank; hermotherwas

a well-respected English portrt pnter; one of her brothers was a
trniversity professor" Eleanor had been to country houses, to public
mhool and ltaly, and she knew many liberal families and people
who'd flourished in the rg os: painters, novelists, lecturers, young
people called Candia, Emma, fasper, Lury, Ina, and grown-ups
called Edward, Caroline, Francis, Douglas and Lady Luckham. Her
mother was a friend of the Queen Mother, and when Ma'am hrned
up in her Bentley the local kids gathered round the car and reered.
One day Eleanor had to rush away from rehearsal because she was
471

requied by her mother to make up the numbers at a lunch for the

Queen Mother. The voices and language of those people reminded
me o Enid Blyton, and Bunter and Jennings, of nurseries and

garlic for a few seconds. Another time we had red snaPPer, which
tasted a little tough, like shark, in puff Pastry with sour cream and
parsley. We usually had a bottle o Chablis too. And none of this had
t experienced before! Eleanor could sleep only if she was drunk, and
l never cyded home before my baby was tucked up, hal<ut, with a
|ean Rhys or Antonia Wtrite to reer her up. I would have preferred,
tlf course, that I mysel could be her nightcap"
It was clear that Eleanor had been to bed with a large and random
collection of people, but when I suggested she go to bed with me,
rhe said, 'I don't think we should, iust at the moment, do you?' As a

oten we stayed in and she cooked. I was never one for education
and vegetables, having been inoculated against both at school,
but
most nights Eleanor made me cabbage or broccoli or Brussels
sprouts, steaming them and dunking them in f.JAng butter and

man I found this pretty fucking insulting. There were constant

riendly caresses, and when things tot too much (every few hours)
lhe held me and cried, but the big caess was out.
l soon realized that Eleano/s main guardian and my nrain rival or
hcr affeion was a man called Heater. He was the local roadweePer, a grossly fat and ugly sixteen_stone Scot in a dorrkey iacket
whom Eleanor had taken up ttrree years ato as a cause. He came
ruund every night he wasn't at the theatre, and sat in the flat readinB
llalzac in translation and giving his bitter and big-mouthed opinion
on the latest produion of lar ot the Rin3. He knew dozens of
actors, especially the left-wing ones, of whom there were plenty at
this politic time. Heater was the only working<lass person most of
them had met. So he became a sort of symbol of the masses, and
consequently received tickets to first nights and to the parties
atcrwards, having a busier social life than Cecil Beaton. He even
lxrpped in to dress rehearsals to give his opinion as 'a man in the
rtreet'. If you dn't adore Heater - and I hated every repulsive inch
rl him - and listen to him as the authentic voice of the proletariat, it
was easy, if you were mide dass (which meant you wee born a
criminal, having fen at birth), to be seen by the comrades and their
nympathizers as a snob, an litist, a hypocrite, a proto_Goebbels.
I found myself competing with Heater for Eleanoy's love. If I sat
too close to her he glared at me; if I touched her casually his eyes
would dilate and flare like gas rings. His purpose in life was to
cnsue Eleano1s happiness, which was harder work than roadsweeping, since she sliked hersel so intensely. Yes, Eleanor
loathed herself and yet required praise, which she then never
believed. But she reported it to me, saying, 'D'you know what so-

774

175

could never get near it. This was unforced bohemia; this was what

and-so said this morning? He said, when he held me, that he

loved
the smell of me, he loved my skin and the way I made him laugh.,
When I discussed this aspe of Eleanor witir my adviser,
;ar ila,

Homeone else's father was a Labour peer who'd had an affair with a
L'onservative MPs wife; some other fortunate whore was an actress
ln a soon-tobe released ilm that everyone was going to a premiere

people, actresses and such-like vain fools. Ttre world Lurns

and they
comb their eyebrows. Or they try and put the burning world
on the
stage. It never occus to them to dowse the flames. What
are you
getting into?'

lhtlugh, because she turned to me and said, 'Hey, funny face, give
mc a kiss.' That got my attention. 'Is been so long for me, Karim,
ytru know, I can hary remember what lips feel like.'

she didn't let me down. ,Christ, Creamy Fire Eater, you o.,"
hundred Per cent total prat, thas exactly what they,re he, these.

'Love. I love her.'

'Like this,'I said.

lt elt hot and wonderful, and we must have kissed for hal an
hrlur. l'm not exaly sure how long it lasted, because I soon paid no

,Ah.,

'But she won't even kiss me. What should

'Am I an agony aunt now?,
les.'

rl in Curzon Street. Someone else had written a novel about their

ftrrmer lover, and it was Eansparent who it was.
It must have been obvious that I wasn't listening to her today,

I do?,

altention to what in my book should have been the kiss of a lifetime.

I wus thinking of other things. Oh yes, I was overwhelmed by angry
lhoughts, which pushed themselves to the front of my mind, not so
mue h numbing my lips as detaching them from me, as if they were a
palr of glasses, for instance.
ln the past few weeks circrrmstances had made me discover what

an lgnoramus I was. Lately I'd becn fortunate" and my life had

'Women are brought up to think of others,, she said, when I told

her
to prote herself more, to think of her own interests.,When
I
think of myself I feel sick,, she said.

start to

r,hanged quickly, but I'd reflected little on it. When I d think of

nrynelf in comparison with those in Eleano/s crowd, I became aware
lllnt l knew nothing; I was empy' an intellectual void. I didn't even

lrurw who Cromwell was, for God's sake. I knew nothing about

rlogy, geology, astronomy, languages, mathematics, physics.

Most of the kids I grew up with left school at sixteen, and the d be
in lnsurance now, o working as car-mechanics, or managers (radio
and TV dept) in departnent stores. And I'd walked out of college
wlthout thinking twice about it, despite my fathes admonitions' In
llrc suburbs education wasn't considered a particular advantage,
arrd certainly couldn't be seen as worthwhile in itself. Getting into
llrtsiness young was moe important. But now I was among people
who wrote books as naturally as we played football. What infuriated
ltrc _ what made me loathe both them and mysel - was their
r'rlnidence and knowledge. The easy talk of art, theare, architecturc, travel; the languages, the vocabulary, knowing the way round
n whole culture - it was invaluable and irreplaceable capital.
r,r x

'fhey had histories,

these topdrawers, and she told them as stories.

Someone,sgrandfatherhadhadanar8umentwithLyttonShachey;
t76

At my school they taught you a bit of French, but anyone who

nttcmpted to pronounce a word correctly was laughed down. On a

trip to Calais we attacked a Frog behind a restaurant. By this
aT7

ignorance we knew ourselves to be

superior to the public-school
their puky uniforms and leather briefcases,
rra.ry
and Daddy wairing ou.tsi!;-in rhe car
"^a
to pick ,n"rn'"-Ol*"
_".;
rough3r; we disrupted all lessonr,
fighters; we never
-"
-"."
carried no effeminate briefcases since
we never d no homework.
We were proud of neve-r learning urryni.g
except the names of
j3lballers, the personnel of rock o"p,
,f," lyrics of ,I am the
Walrus'. What iots we were! How rnisinformed!
"r,a
Why dn,t we
understand that we were happily
condemning o**t*"io il;
nothing better than motor_mechanics?
Why couldn,t we see that?
For Eleanor's qowd hard words and
sophisticated ideas were in the

hd-"_*t

air they breathed from. birth, and

this language was the currency that

boughtyou thebestof

whattheworrd-"fiL

only ever be a second language,

And where I could have been

fucked

bl H'l';;,s

Great Dane, it

Butforusitcould

wa

H:'^lT
primacy, her stories that connected
to an entirre estabrished world.
It
wls as if- I fek
wasn,t important enough, wasn,t
as
.l:"!
substantial as hers,^y
so I,d thrown it away. I i"u". t"tt
ed about Mum
and Dad, or the suburbs, though
I aij taU< aUout Charlie.
Charlie

She looked at me in
ir I were plaving some ridiculous
same, unt' she saw
'You've got a sfeet voice, Karim. you,re
from South London _ so
thas how you speak. ls like c"ct',ey.
onry not so raw. Is not
unusual. Is different to my voice,
of curse.,

illlllY;il

Of course.
At that moment I resolved to_lose my accent:
whatever it was, it
would go' I would speak like her. It

asn,t diffiolt. i,d-l;

;
world; I had to, to get on. Not that I
wanted to go back. I still craved
night when I had my
somehow I knew also
on the sbeet, my knees gave

way.
r78

d room and looked out

'Eleanor, I won't be able to cycle home,' I said. 'I think I've lost the
usc of my legs.'
She said, softly, 'I can't sleep with you tonight, baby, my head's
ell messed up, you've no idea. Is somewhere else and it's full of
voices and songs and bad stuff. And I'm too much trouble for you.
You know why, don't you?'
'Please tell me.'
She turned away. 'Another time. Or ask anyone. I'm sure they'll
br.happy to tell you, Karim.'
She kissed me goodnight at the door. I was not sad to go. I knew
l'd be seeing her every day.
When we'd found the charaers we wanted to play, $lke had us
lirr.sent thern to the rest of the group. Eleanor/s was an upper-class
linglish woman in her sixties who'd grown up in the Indian Rai,
l,meone who believed herself to be part of Britain's greatness but
woe declining o'ith it and becoming, to her consternation, sexually
r'urious iust as Britain became so. Eleanor d it brilliantly. When she
aclt'd she lost her hair_twiding self-consciousness and became
slill, drawing us towards her as a low-voiced story-teller, adng iust
r.rrough satirical top-spin to keep us guessing as to her attitude
ltlwards the charaer.
She finished to general approval and theatrical kisses. It was my
lrrrn. I got up and did Anwar. It was a monologue, saying who he
wns, what he was like, followed by an imitation of him raving in the
nlrcet. I slipped into it easily, as I'd rehearsed so much at Eleanor/s. I
llrtlught rny work Vas as good as anyone's in the group, and for the
irst time I didn't feel mysel to be lagging behind everyone else.
After tea we sat around to discuss the characters. For sorne reason,
lrt,rhaps because she looked puzz)ed,, Pyke said to Tracey, {rVhy
rkrn't you tell us what you thought of Karim's character?'
Now although Tracey was hesitant" she did feel strongiy. She was
rlignified and serious, not fashionable like a lot of middle-class kids
who fancied themselves as actors. Tracey was respectable in the best
surburban way, honest and kind and unpretentious, and she
rlrcssed like a secretary; but she was also bothered by things: she
worried about what it meant to be a black woman. She seemed shy
;rnd ill at ease in the world, doing her best to disappear from a room
without actually walking out. Yet when I saw her at a party with
179

only black people P sent, she was completely fferent

- extrovert,
passionate, and dancing wildly. She,d been brought
up by her
mother, who worked as a cleaning wornan. By sorne
odj coincid_
ence Tracey's mother was scnrbbing the steps of a
house near olrr
rehearsal room one morning when we were exercising
in the park.
foke had invited her to talk to the group during her lunch_break.
Tracey usuy said littie, so when she did begin
to talk about my
Anwar the group listened but kept out of the discussion.
ffris ning
was suddenly between,minorities,.

Two things, IGrim,' she said to me. ,Anwarrs hunger-strike

worries me. What you want to say hurts me. It rely
pains-me! And
I'm not sure that we should show it!,
'Really?'

aes.' She spoke to me as i all I required was a little sense. ,I,m

afraid it shows black people ,
'Indian people -,
'Black and Asian people -,
'one old Inan man -,
'As being irational, riculous, as being hysterical.
And as being
fanatical.'

you'd found kneeling in front of a middle<lass house with a bucket

and mop.
'How can you be so reaionary?' she said.
'But this sounds like censorshiP.'

'We have to prote our culfure at this time, Karim. Don't you

ng,ree?'

'No. Truth has a higher value.'

'Pah. Truth. Who defines it? What truth? Is white truth you're

rlrlending here. It's white truth we're discussing.'

I looked atludge Pyke. But he liked to let things run. He thought
rrrrrflict was creative.

t inally he said: 'Karim, you may have to rethink.'

'But I'm not sure I can''
'Yes. Don't unnecessarily restri you range either as an aor or

aa

r person.'

'But Matthew, whY must I do it?'

I le looked at me coolly. 'Because I say so.' And added: 'You must

Etart again.'

Tanatical?' I appealed to the High Court.

fudge pyke was
listenint
carefully. ,It,s not a fanatil hunger_strike' Is catmly

intended blackmail.,
But |udge Pyke signled for Tracey to
to on.
'And
arranged marriage. It worries me. IGrim, with respect,
-it worriesthatme.'
at her, sa)4ng nothing. She was very disturbed.
!T*d
Tell us exactly why it worries you,, Eleanor said, sympathetically.
can I even begin? Your picfure is what white people
.l'."y
- _How

think of us. That we're funny, with strange habits

ind

weir

customs. To the white man we,re aiready people

without humanity,
and then you 8o and have Anwar
waving his stick at the
-"y
white boys. I can,t believe that anything like this could
happen, you
sf9,w us as unolganized aggressors Wf,y do you
hate yol-rself and
all black people so much, Karim?,

As she continued, I looked around the group. My Eleanor

looked
sceptical, but I could see the others were prepared
to agree with
Tracey. It was difficult to disagree with sorneone
whose mother
r8o

r8r

CHAPTER TWELVE

'Bad light? Are you mad? I'll show you just as you are.'
At this assurance he seemed content. Now I'd secured his assent I
changed the subiect quickly.

'And Shinko? How is she, Changez?'

'Ah, same, same,' he said with satisfaction, pointing down at his
pcnis. He knew I liked this subject; and as it was the only thing he

ruuld show off about we both got pleasure from the exchange.
'l have been in more positions than most men. I'm thinking of
r:omposing a manual. I like it very much from behind with the
woman on her knees as if I am riding high a horse likefohn Wayne.'
'Doesn't }amila obie to that kind of thing?' I asked, observing
him carefully and wondering how I'd portray the crippled arm.
'l'rostituton and so on?'
'You've hit the nail exaly on the nose! At first they condemned
llt('as a completely vTong man, a male exploiter Pig -'

Fortunately for me - and I didn,t want her

to hear my quest to
Changez - |amila was out, having recently
staed work at a Black
Women's Centre ne.rby, where-she w.l
resea'ching into racial
attacks on women. Changez was dus

dressing-gown. Tubes of brown fa

dabbed his duster at cobwebs the

tamiLa's dothes: he,d always have on one of her jumpers

or shirts, or

he'd be sitting on his camp-bed in her overcoat

with one of her
:canr s wrapped around his head and covering his ears, Inan

fashion, making hirn look as if he had a toothache.

'I'm researching a play, Chan
and I'm thinking of basing mine
going to be privileged and eve

lucky.'

'Good, good. Jamila, eh?"

'No. You.'

hi

shaightened himself suddenlyand ran

if he were about to be photographed.

'It's a terrific idea, isn't it? One

of my best.,
'I'm proud to be a subject for a top
.u*u,, he said' But his face
clouded over. ,Hey, you won,t show
me in bad light, will you?,

'No!'
'And for a few days I had to be exclusively masturbating twice a
rlay. Shinko wanted to give up this game and become a gardener
and all.'
'D'you think she'd be a good gardener?'
l{e shrugged. 'She has nimble fingers with weeds. But thank
('hrist Almighty in heaven, they realized Shinko was exploiting me.
! was the victim and all, so it was soon back to business as usual.'
'l'hcn Changez took my arm and looked into my eyes. He became
unhappy. What a sentimental creafue he was. 'can I tell you
Iomething?' He looked into the distance - through the window and
into the next-door neighbous kitchen. 'We laugh at one or two
things about my character, yes, but I'll tell you a not-laughing
mlrtter. I'd give up every position I've ever been in for 6ve minutes
ttr kiss my wie on her lips.'
Wife? What wife? My mind slid around at his words; until I
rt,membered. I was always forgetting he was married to famila.
'Your wife still won't touch you, eh?'
He shook his head sadly and gulped. 'And you and she? Stuffing
rr:gularly?'

'No, no, for God's sake, Bubble, not since the time you watched
us. It wouldn't be the same without you there.'
He grunted. 'So she's getting it absolutely nowhere at all?'

'Nowhere, man.'

183

'Good.'

Yes' women aren't like us. They don't

have
They only want it if they like the

S"y ,"r;ri

Bi l" didn't appear

psychologyof
romance.
rer...vw ur lurnance.

have it an the time.

doesn,t matter who it
to

to be listening to my observations
on the
!
He i
ne;ust
fumed and looked at me with great
fue and determinatior,,
these were noiouatlu""
quities that
th} God
r:^ had
L-l
"rrd
hT. H_e
smashed r,i, goJ fist down
on the table

l5"j*:,p::

*:

*;

*iI'';;"
Y T"i k";"I
a.";,
..",ii J"T r,r," k,o*
_il":g":_
all rry 1,:toj"r:"rly,,please
life. Don,t y;
you.'
'*. 'h";;;"*. JJ-#:#:H
'"T

"*:i:;',u,:1l"

count on it! otherwise my life

is terminated.

"i|ro"
Thas

-ill

top mysel

uP to you but - ,
'Of course I wiII do it. I wil cut
my tfuoat.,
'What with?,
'A prick!,
He threw his cup
plate to the loor, pushed hims
l up and
started to Pace abou 1d
i the room. Usuy hi,
a,,rr
remained
still
and at his side, a useless trunk.
"*,
aunow, p.omaing

from the
folded-back sleeve of the pinkd""'"i";-8;;,
it sfuck out in front o
him and waved ftom sid to side.
;'*med to have become
another person, reacting.out
of rear p"iir"u,", than the ironic
selfdeprecation with which h!.""""Uy
his strange Me. t4rhen

g;il

he looked at me, at his friend,

,
Jn contempt, even as I
sts11ed on, bying to help the fat -i'
bastard.
'Changez, there are oth".
-o^"" ir, ,f," world. Maybe I can
intuoduce

you to some acbesses _ if you lose

weight. I know dozens
of them, and some of them u."
,uu r"uao"'. They love soewing.
Some of them want to help tfre
Ufackpeopt
the Third World.
The re the ones
"r,a
1ou're a little
ce like the devil' The
number of morals you

wi' tove -". i *iu wait

That may be a long time.,
'I want her in my arms!,

and she

""fff:]

un

rit,n"

*, J"oH":f;

ilt ::

I'm talking about, the time. And

in the mean time you
184

'Fuck-all. I'm doing fuck-all until I get her. And one other matter.
You can't be using my charaer in your aing business. No, no, no,

tlcinitely. And if you try and steal me I can't see how we can be
riends to talk to each other again! Promise?'
I becarne frantic. What was this - censorship? 'Promise? You cunt!
I can't fucking promise anything now! What are you talking about?'
llut it was Like shouting at a rock. Something in him had solidified
against me.
'You entered my wife,'he said. 'Now promise you won't enter me
by the back door and portray me in your play.'
I was defeated. What could I say? 'OK, OK, I promise not to enter
you,' I said half-heartedly.
'You love to belittle me, you love to laugh at rne and call me a git to
lhe side of my face. One day you will be laughing out of the other
plde of your neck with me. You will keep your promise?"
I nodded" I went.
cycled like a maniac to Eleano/s flat. I had to disorss the situation
wlth her. First I'd lost Anwar and now I was losing Changez.
Without him my whole caneer would fall apart. Who else could I
hnrc my character on? I didn't know any other'black'people. Pyke
I

would sack me.

When I went into the hall of the house Heater was coming out. He
Irlocked my way like a mountain of rags, and every time I tried to
dodge around him I bumped into his stinking bulk.
'Christ, man, what are you doing, Heater?'
'She's got the dog,' he said. 'Off you run, little boy.'
'What fucking dog? A hot dog? Get out of the way, you bastard,
alrc and I have business to attend to.'
'T'he black dog, she's got. Depression. So- not today, thank you.
('ome back another time.'
But I was too small and quick for Heater. I nipped past him, under
lris fetid arn, gave him a shove and was in Eleanos place like a
llash, locking the door behind me. I could hear him cussing me
rlown behind the door.
'Go and clean dog turds from the street with your tongue, you
working-class cunt!' I shouted.
I took in Eleanor's room, not recognizing it at first. There were
clothes everywhere. The ironing-board was in the middle of the
185

room

and Eleanor, nakeci, was ironing a pile of clothes. As she

pressed down hard with the iron, as if trying to force it through
the
board, she wept, and her tears fell on the clothes.
'Eleanor, what's the matter? Tell me, please. Has your agent
rung

with bad news?'

I went to her. Her dry lips moved, but she didn,t

want to talk. She
went on moving the iron acoss the same patch of shirt' When
she
lifted the face of the iron I felt she wanted to place it on herself,
on
the back of her hand or arn' She was half mad.

llar, to deceive a friend, to use someone. What should I do? I had no

iden. I ran over it again and again and could find no way out.

! looked at Eleanor to make sure she was sleeping. I thought I'd

lreak off home and get Eva to do me some stir-fried vegetables in

hpr wok. Build myself up. But when I stood up Eleanor was
wtching me, and she was smiling slightly, too.
'l ley, I'm glad you're here.'

'llut I was planning on going and leaving you to sleep.'

'No, don't do that, darling.'
Shc patted the bed. 'Get in, Karim.' I was so pleased to see her
hxrking cheerful that I obeyed instantly, getting in beside her,
pirlling up the covers and resting my head on the pillow next to her.
'Karim, you little idiot, take off your shoes and the rest of your
rluI

hes.'

She started to laugh as I pulled off my jeans, but before I'd got any
frrrther than my knees she was nibbling my cock, longbefore any of

tlte foreplay which, as I'd been informed by the numerous sex

rnanuats I'd devoured for years, was essential to celestial lovemaking. But then, Eleanor would do such things, I thought, as I lay
thrre enjoying it. There was extremity in her soul. ln certain states
rhe might do anything. As itwas, she ways d whatevet occurred
Io her, which was, admittedly, not difficult for someone in her
poeition, coming from a backpound where the risk of failure was
mlnimal; in fact, you had to work hard to fail in her world.
That's how it began, our sex Me. And I was stunned by i| d
never had sur strong emotional and physical feeling before- I
wanted to tell everyone that sur regular live'fire through the veins
was possible; for surely, i they knew o it, they'd be doing it all the
llme. What intoxicationl During rehearsal, when I looked at her
wt:aring a long blue and white skirt, sitting in a chair with her bare
er:t up on the seat, pressing the swathes of doth down between her
l6gs - and I told her to wear no undennrear - my mouth flooded in
anticipation. I'd get an erection and would have to flee the improvisation for the toilet, where I'd wank, thinking of her. When my smiles
rcvealed that this was what I was doing, she'd ioin me. We began to
tlrink that all busness buildings should have comfortable facilities,
with flowers and music, for masturbation and love-making.
Physically, Eleanor wasn't coy like me; she didn't conceal desire;
there was no shame. At any time she'd take my hand and lay it on
r86

a87

her breasts, pressing my fingers around the nipple, which I rolled

and pinched. or she'd pull up her T-shirt and offer me her tit to
suck, forcing it into my mouth with her fingers. Or she pushed my
hand up her skirt, wanting to be touched' Sometimes we snort

It had a diferent pace, there were new canesses' kisses which

lasted

an hour, sudden cop rlafie.. in odd places behind garages or

in
trains- where we'd simply pull down our clothes. At other ti-", **
lasted aeons' when d lie with my head between her legs lapping
her ornt and rimming her as she held herself open for
t

", ""iit

fingers.

"i

There were occasions when I looked at Eleanor and felt such love_
her face and entire being seemed luminous that I couldn,t bear the
-

Fear entered rny life. It entered my work. [n the suburbs there

had

and crippled hand, and on the accent, which I knew would sound,

to white ears, bizarre, funny and characteristic of India. I'd worked

out a story for the Changez character (now called Tariq), eagerly

arriving at Heathrow with his gnat-ridden suitcase, having been

lnformed in Bombay by a race-track acquaintance that you merely
had to whisper the word 'undress' in England and white women
would start slipping out of their underwear.
If there were objections to my Portrayal I would walk out of the
rehearsal room and go home. Thus, in a spirit of bloody-minded

dcfiance I prepared to perform my Tariq for the grouP. On the day,

ln that room by the river, the group sat in a hal<ircle to watch me. I
tried not to look at Tracey, who sat leaning forward concentratedly.

Richard and fon sat back without expression. Eleanor smiled

encouragingly at me. Pyke nodded, note'book on his knee; Louise
tnwrence had her writing pad and five sharp pencils at the ready.
And Carol sat in the lotus position, putting her head back and
rtretching unconcemey.
When I finired there was silence. Everybody seemed to be
waiting for someone else to speak. I looked around the faces:
Eleanor was amused but Tracey had an obiection coming on. Her
rTn was half-raised. I would have to leave. It was the thing I most
dreaded, but I'd made up my mind. But somehow Pyke saw this
coming too. He pointed at Louise, instnring her to start writing.
'There it is,' Pyke said. Tariq comes to England, meets an English
fournalist on the plane - played by Eleanor, no, by Calol. This is real
quality, upper-class crumPet. He is briely among the upper dasses
bccause of her, which gives us another area to examine! Girls fall for
him all over the place because of his weakness and need to be
mothered. So. We have class, race, fucking and farce. What more
eould you want as an evening's entertainment?'
Trace s ace was well and truly shut. I wanted to kiss Pyke.
'Well done,'he said to me.
Mostly the aors adored Matthew. After all, he was a complex,
attraive man, and they owed him a bagfrrl. Naturally, I was as

sycophantic towards Pyke as the others, but undemeath I was

sceptical and liked to keep my distance. I put this scepticism down to
rny South London origins, where it was felt that anyone who had an
artistic attitude - anyone, that is, who'd read more than fifty booko,

r88

r89

or could Pronounce Mallarm conely or tell the diference between

Camembert and Brie - was basically a charlatan, snob or fool.

I really wasn't too intimate with pyke until one day my bike chain
snapped and he started to drive me back from rehearsals in his

sports car, a b
along on your

With their poking into life's odd comers' Pyke and Marlene
recmed to me to be more like intrepid iournalists than swimmers in
lhc sensual. Their desire to snuggle up to real life betrayed a basic

shot you

the road.

that the telling of these stories vas an integrally erotic aspet of the
serious promiscuous life" Or perhaps it was because I,d been

Maybe my
teasing out
s Pyke said,
as it were, when we first began to talk, was this. ,When I was
nineteen, Karim, I swore to dedicate myself to two things: to
becoming a brilliant director and to sleeping with as many wo.
u,
"r,
I could.'
I was surprised to ind him naive enou6h to boast of such
desires.
But, looking straight ahead of him as he drove, he talked of his
hobbies: attending orgies and New york fuck<lubs; and of the
pleasure of finding unusual locations for the usual act, and unusual
people to perform it with.

dhad

';i:i
tuck-

club would you get to meet a hairdresser from Wisconsin?,

Marlene was the same.She was fucking a Labour Mp and passing
on to her alectical friends gossip and information about th Ho.''
of Commons
9f the Labour Party.
One of llke
was with a policewoman,
the fascination
woman,s character _ there

predominantly in the

'ffi;::T:i':,;

t _ an astronomer or

nuclear physicist. I feel too arts-based intellectually.,

L9

opening out. I'd never met anyone like this before'

During one of these truth sessions in the car after rehearsal, when
i was exhaustedly happy with the feeling of having worked hard,
Iyke tumed to me with one of the generous smiles which I found so

lnsidious. 'Hey, you should know I'm pleased with your con-

trlbution to the show. The character you've got going is going to be a

blg laugh. So I've decided to give you a very special Present.'
'The sky was passing at a tremendous rate- I looked at him in his

llcnn white T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms' His arms were thin and
Irls face had a mean and pinched look; he ran a lot. The soul music I
lnnisted he played was turned up. He especially liked Smokey
tlrlbinson's 'Going to a Go G, and when he liked something he
wnnted it again and again. But he hadn't known the Robinson tune
ln'fore. I was thinking he wasn't as cool as he should have been
whcn he pulled something so fucking cool I nearly froze to death

and overheated at the same timeThere I was, talking away, saying, 'But you've been so kind to me
rlready, Matthew, iust giving me this job. Perhaps you dot realize
what it means.'
'What d'you mean, don't realize?' he said, sharply.
'tt's changed my life. Without you plucking me from nowhere I'd
ntill be decorating houses.'

gnrnted. 'Fuck that. That's not kind - is just a iob. Now, your
pr(:sent, that's really kind. Or, rather: who your present is. Who.
Who.'
'Who?' We were starting to sound like a fucking owl chorus. 1/ho
l Ie

in

it?'

'lt's Marlene.'
'Your wife's name is Marlene, isn't it?'
'Sure. If you want her, she's yours. She wants you.'
'Me? Really?'
'Yes.'
19t

'She wants me? For

what?,

jj:::::':1:1,n'" f"o of innocent boy that Andr Gide

il"i' ;"#$:]iffi llf ,f:
to
f be
[ :"T""''J
satisfied with
*1'';T'
her, eh?,
^:rr ";
I wasn,t flattered.

a.x:lll"7,,
of

I said, ,I,ve never been

so flattered n my life. I

'Yeah?, He smiled at
: me' 'From
me to you' friend. A gift.
appreeiation.,

told me? What was going on? I was about to ask Pyke about all this
but it was too late for that. Pyke would think me an iot for lying.

And Pyke wouldn't stop talking, though I only half heard him.

'[he car had stopped outside West Kensington tube. The commuters

plled out of the exit in a mass and virtually ran home. Now Pyke was
writing something on a pad on his knee.

'Bring Eleanor along on Saturday. We're h"ri^g some people

nlund for supper. Ill be nice to see you both. I'm sure we can really
get into something good.'

'l'm sure lve can, too,' I said.

I struggled out of the car with Pyke's address in my hand.

appreciation. oh yes. But

I had t.

rn a part of me, in
mv cock-to u"

b";.;;"".:f"

x11l;'']i1Tl!]

pr""iru,i iJui i.r.,olu"a in

his offer.
I said at !ast, ,yo,,
shoula m"*, l{"tti"*,
*", r- roing out with
Eleanor. f,m realy k*:
:. her. And ,h" ;;", I reckon.,
know that, rGrim.
, ,.iJ i*"", ,o'so ro,
yo.r.,
rl

;:

He glanced at me and nodded.

::"l'':}'";meaft

Sooa for her. Calming.

She was depressed

"-eV
erherastu"yrn'""a;"'*rcah'**

;rTii'j,

'Was she?,
'Wouldn,t you be?
'Yeah, rnan, I would.,
'lust awful,, he said. ,And
what a man he was.,
'I know.,
'Handsome, talente d,
charismatic. Did you
,No.,
know him?, he asked.
'I'm glad you rwo
pyke said,
srniting at me.
".i.1:S."ln*,,
.

w
Et

lastboyf

rnrs rnformation about

Eleano_r. I

considered
aid, trying to fit it around
what I k"J;;

rienaruunmslrtill:i#ff

did it happen? Why hadn,t,r,"

ar.

prrsonality could dub you down. He could start pinching your

che.eks and tweaking your nose and stuff he thought was the
unniest thing he'd ever seen. or he'd Pull uP his iumper and slap

out a tune on his bare stomach, urging you

Thanks,, I said.

'Pleasure. you,re

When I got to the house, which was half ripped up since Ted had
Itarted work on it, Dad was sitting writing: he was working on a
lxxrk about his childhood in India. l_ater he'd be doing a metation
clrrss in a local hall. Eva was out. Sometimes I dreaded seeing Dad. If
ytru weret in the mood for him, or able to fend him of his

:,il";Tn*n'""T#

-li-u

y hadn,t anyone else

tro guess whether it was

'Land of Hope and Glor;/ or The Mthty Quinn'in the Manred
Mann version. I swear he examined his pregnant gut five times a
day, patting his belly, squeezing his tpes, discussing them with Eva
ar if they were the ninth wonder of the world, or trying to persuade
hcr to bite them.
'lndian men have lower centres of gravity than Accidental men,'
he claimed' "VVe are more centred. We live from the corre place lhe stomach. From the guts, not from the head.'
Eva endured it all; it made her laugh. But he wasn't my boyfriend.
I'd also begun to see Dad not as my father but as a separate person
with characteristics that were contingent. He was part of the world
lrow, not the source of iu in one way, to my stress, he was just
,rnother individual. And ever since Eva had been working so hard,
|'d begun to wonder at Dad's helplessness. He dn't know how to
make a bed or how to wash and iron his clothes. He couldn't cook;
he didn't even know how to make tea or coffee.
Recently, when I was lying down learning my lines, d asked Dad
to make me some tea and toast. When eventuallyl followed him into

493

the ktchen I saw that he,d

cut open the teabag with
scissors

l1l*'::,:: j":^:i,"'iTP..H;h";J"F.'ii.iilT:'x;
a:l. archaeological dig.
W
J""ilT: r-,\ed
i*::Y_.:tained
:T
after hi-.
l* *,:1"^
";J;",d "*ffi;ffL:'f

H",:::1..:.'|_"':^:.**l|*;ili'';;ili.lT;l,T.'li
;,fjf:::,:::::,T",courdher;td;;;i;:,"i".T:iT:
as he had?

H'':1"^:_:"::*Mumte,
*1.^*T:s_ry,

,Eff,n"*,
'Good.'

face,,^"

: _He,1
gtoomy

i"-i,,,' """lT-'il:,H,:"':
;#" ':;:

he said to

^;;;_.

,rH"w,s

the show?,

He started going on.

'Yes, but make sure they
don,t! 'rs6rtlr
neglect you.
I_isten to me! Tell
vuu' Llsten
T
them you want the leird part
or nothing. you can,t climb
down l
v..'rr,vp r,-oor.. -r:_r

:::""i#il:i:r::iu'urcuJi.;'; #;;il:l^'"T"'
illilrT"?
"T,:',".^'::o;::":::llr";il;;Tffi
;;J,-ffi#;'iJ

..";*:ffi:"J,^;:J
:LT, rhen r
l:ffi:: .j^"1; .yt..".
stop talking;.
wanker.'And
:k"}xT"l''::
went out.

I went to the Nashville,

which
couple of pints of Ruddles

and a

...

..v us r

was generaly getting into

some weird things; solid
*:: Take supper. I tooked
T
d written his address. The
word ,ruo*

;,il

kncw precisely how elevated Pyke was, and she regarded me

edmiringly as if I'd won a swimming cup. You must invite Matthew

nv<:r here some time in the next couple of weeks,' was her resPonse.
Ncxt, I rang |amila- She would be a diferent proposition. I was
lx.ginning to see how scared I was of her, of her'sexualit/, as they
r'ellcd fucking these days; of the power of her feelings and the
llrength of her opinions. Passion was at a premium in South
!.ondon. 'Well?'I asked. 'What d'you think?'

'Oh, I don't know, Creamy. You always do what you want

I couldn't 8o to his Place.

I'm worried that they're taking you over, these people. You're
moving away from the re world.'
'What real world? There is no real world, is there?'
She said patiently, 'Yes, the world of ordinary people and the shit
lhcy have to deal with - unemployment, bad housing, boredom.
ilxrn you won't understand anything about the essential stuff.'
'But |ammie, they're shit-hot powerful people and l.' Then I
nrade a mistake" 'Aren't you even curious to find out how the rich
attd succesful live?'
She snorted and started laughing. '['m less interested in home
lurnishings than you, dear. And I don't want to be anywhere near
lhose people, to be honest. Now, when are you coming to see us?
l've got a big pot of real hot dal here thas going uneaten. Even
Changez I won't let near it - I'm saving it for you, my old lover.'

.rryway. You listen to no one. But myself,

"Thanks, fammie,' I said.

on Friday night, at the end of the wee}s workshop, Pyke put his
nrms around Eleanor and me as we were leaving, kissed us both and
naid, 'See you tomorrow then, eh?'
'Yes,'I said. 'See you then.'
'We're looking forward to it,' he said.

'Me too,'I replied.

wTongname,**"."*,jili.L"*:.-::"'T:H1";t
j''^"":

iTH J",d,'l''.1TT:#3'.;'';"

;;

:"

straighten
out my head. But _r,"r,,
,
*ii
invitation to Pyke's (but n
""".-rry,
abou, r,i' afj
ie
naa
no insight into
my fears and confusion' She
,r,."girii_; a terrific chance. She

,.rJi#J,

tg4

a95

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

l'rl been briefed up to the hilt on all this byTery, who investigated
lhe r-rimes of the rich middle class with the vigour of a political

was now employed; the call had come. He was

pleying a police sergeant in a police-station drama. This proved
kleotogically uncomfortable, since he'd always claimed the police
Mnig,ret. Terry

werc the fascist instrument of class rule. But now, as a policeman, he

trar pulling a ton of money/ much more than I was, more than
alryone else in the commune in which he lived, and he was
Hrnstantly getting recognized in the street. He was also asked to
opr,n firework displays, judge play competitions and appear on
tell,briy game shows. In the sreet it vvas like walking around with
( lr,rrlie, the way people called out to hirn and tumed and stared,
srrtpt that Terry's fans didn't know him as Terry Tapley, but as
i+.r1q'eant Monty. These ironies made Sergeant Monty especially
vlrrrlent about Pyke, the man who'd denied him the only job he'd
leally wanted.
'li.rry had taken me to a political meeting recently, after which, in
will
t l rt pub, a girl had spoken about life after the revolution.'People
the
clarinet!'
she'd
lte rcading Shakespeare on the bus and learning
r'tltd- Her commitment and hope impressed me; I wanted to do
l llrtething myself. But Terry dn't think I was ready. He gave me a
urrall task first. 'Keep an eye on Pyke for us,' he said, 'as you're so
wr.ll in with hin. His type are good for cash. There might be
*rrrrething up that stre t you can do one day. We'll let you know.
lltrt this time lust look around - see what we might take him for
wlxrn the tirne comes to call him in politically. [n the short term you

Eleanor sat beside me in a brack suit and dark-red

sirk shirt with a
high collar. She'd put her hair up, but a couple
of ringlets had
escaped, just right for me to slip my finger through. ,I've
nver seen

' I told her. I meant it. I couldn,t

stop
nted to hold her all day and stroke hei,

Up we strolled to the mansion, cheerful and excited.

The house
I]zke shared with Marlene had to be a four_storey
place in a quiet
street, with a recentry watered front garden
smothered in flowers,
and two sports cars outside, the black and the
blue. Then there was
the incriminating basement in which lived the
nanny who looke
after Pyke's thirteen-year-old son by his first
marriage.
t

lrrrr help us by meeting his son.'

'Meeting tris son? OK, Sergeant Monty.'

lle went to slap my face.
'Don't call me that. And ask the boy - in front of all the guests which school he goes to. And i it isn't one of the most expensive and
r.xt'lusive in England, in the whole of the Western world for that
rrratter, I'll change my name to Disraeli.'
'OK, Sergeant Monty - I mean, Disraeli' But I can't believe you're
liBht about this. Pyke's radical, man.'
Terry snorted and laughed scomfully. 'Don't tell me about these
trrcking radicatrs. They're iust liberals' - practically the worst thing,
in his view, anybody could be. 'And their only use is in giving
rlroney to ou Party.'
a97

l|f: jl".-,:::::

a deferenriar rrish
sirr. who rer us

;'"#"Lfl:,,11i"1",!."',J;
into
[',]i:ll ;*:;: :::_T
Hl"""';"l1l*;'#j:,ai;::"#;:#:"'#i'1'':'l;
:JitT:::::, ::o:*:. ::'9'il; ffi 1.::;#,'J:;
j*''1':".1#''u",;i^"'*"fi :hT."j.il;]"
fr 1L.H

il

ilf J:"H::"l
J:fi
:,"":::,'#:
;"J;::'"::::T'",1'1iil*"J"'1;ffi
"""ff
actors,
:H:]::::1T1"::u.'.'luiiiil#,:"ffi
does he? I don,t:thinkhe,s;*ilffi;:lJ"[Hl#J
'}T"ill;l
has he?'
he?,
T:;.ffi1ffiT,T:,":yi:ri!'i;ffi
'No.'

'l4y'hy us, then?,

'Because he ioves
us so much.,

'Well, whatever happens,

we mustn,t deny
ucrry edcn
each other expe
as if my whole puryose
in tr
ence.And
.|ll.
.t'nq , " l
as i
- r_v9 g rrqlq 6rarn or rice down
'What experience?,
nis.
tr said. oerfin_
",- __ ]
wouldn,t
wouldn't
repeated.

more and
facts of m,
m o__--_.._

with

"
your'laii*'i""o?

you mean?,

a:T"T'::ff*
he said softly. ,He,s
bloody dead.,
about funn.,
st go to the toilet.,

ir *y

s stufp,

life, but not the last.

. you don,t understand

other
e to lay myself open
to yo,r.;

way.

two hard-back volumes of Michael Foot's biography of Nye Bevan.

l'lu:re were three couches in pastel shades, with lndian friezes on

fhe wall above them; and a plaster sculpture with strings and
llghtbulbs, also attached to the wall: it looked like a large cunt.
lsnning casually against another wall were three of Pyke's framed
awurds, and standing on the table were a couple of statuettes and a
rtrl-glass bowl with Pyke's name on it. There were no posters or
pltotographs from any of his produions. Apart from the awards,
art outsider would have no clue to his profession.
lileanor returned as the two Ms walked silkily down the wide
rlnircase, Pyke in black ieans and black T-shirt, Marlene more exotic
irr u short white dress, bare arms and legs, and white ballet shoes.
flhc was glamorous, Marlene, Rvint of a rough and uncompromislltg, sexuality t'ith her many smiles. But, as my mother would have
mid, she was no spring chicken.
l'he lrish maid served the four of us turkey salad and we sat and
tlt.on our laps and drank more champagne. I was hungry, and had
rlcliberately missed lunch in order to enioy 'suppe/, but now I
rrluldn't eat much. Marlene and Matthew dn't look as if food
lnlcrested them either. I kept watching the door, expecting more
;nople to tum up, but none did. Pyke had lied. He was quiet and
rllstant tonight, as if he couldn't be bothered with the performance

tr conversation. He spoke only in murmured chs, as i to

underline the banality of the evening.
Marlene did most of the talking, and to keep silence at bay I asked
ro many questions I began to feel like a television interviewer. She
krld us of the separate entrances prostitutes had to the House of
(irmmons; and as we ate our turkey there was the story of the
l.abour MP who liked to watch chickens being stabbed to death
while he was having sex.
Marlene had some Thai sticks, and we were having an after<linner ioint when Perry, Pyke's son, came in, a pale and moodykroking boy with a shaved head, earrings and filthy clothes, far too
rough and slovenly to be anything other than a member of the liberal
middle class. My Terry antennae went up, trembling in anticipation.

'By the way,' Pyke said to the boy, 'd'you know who Karim's

stepbrother is? lt's Charlie Hero.'

rg8

The boy was suddenly riveted. He started to wave his body

199

around and ask questions. He had

more life than his father. 'Hero'
my hero. What,s he like?,
I gave him a brief character-sketch.
But I couldn,t let Terry
Now was my chance.
'What school d,you go to?,
'Westrninster. And it,s shit.,
Yeah?ull of pubtic-school types?,
'Full of media fuck-wits wi^parents
who work at the BBC.
*T:::^:",-t..tr."
but these rwo wouldn,t let me.,
He walked out of:::p*hensive
the room. And for the .."
in"
upstairs, we heard the muffled sound nf tho",-n_,r^--^:l^
"i,"""g,'

-tL.-album
gonel

!rs!

hlllcd closer to me. 'Gene was a young West Indian actor. He was
lery talented and sensitive, thin and kind and raunchy, with this
bautiful face. He knew a lot about Po try, which he'd declaim
lvunderfully aloud at parties. And African rnusic was his speciality.
Hp worked with Matthew once, a long time ago. Matthew says he
*rn the best mirne he ever met. But he never got the work he
dprerved. He emptied bed-pans in hospital prograrnmes. He played
erlminals and taxi-drivers. He never played in Chekhov or lbsen ot
phakespeare, and he deserved to. He was better than a lot of people.
*r he was very ang{f about a lot of things. The police were always
Taxis drove strght
Flt'king him up and giving him a going over.

Sor

He lived in a bad world in nice old England. One day when he

had
ass,' but neither of them

""O::J:
tterly bored, as i this evening
had
u,,a

.on;ffiffT:.ll;

, turn them on.

up, wked acnoss the room and

. He turned and nodded at
Immeately, Eleanor broke

rapidly cold, but the air smelled

s
perfume. What were they doing
nothing had happened. Then
sh
came and sat beside me. She

F.it him. People said there were no free tables in emPty restaurants.

didn't

theatre companies, he couldn't take any

EGI into one of the bigger

nlorc. He iust freaked out. He took an overdose. Eleanor was

wrrrking. She came home and found him dead. She was so young
llten.'

'l gee.'

"l'hat's all there is to it.'

Marlene and I sat there a while. I thought about Gene and what
Ire'tl been through; what they'd done to him; what he'd allowed to
lta;rpen to himsel. I saw that Marlene was scrutinizing me.
'Shall we have a kiss?' she said, after a while, stroking my ace

lghtly.
lpanicked. 'What?'

'lust a little kiss to start with, to see how we get along. Do I shock

yrtu?'

ing that no one,s acfuy told

to Eleanos boyfriend, cene?,
y, bur with stight disbelief.

Ivlailene, I know for sure that

no one,s told me nothing. Is
driving me uP the wall,
I can t"u y'".'t*ryone
as as if is
some kind o ultimately 'too,
bigsecret u" ;y. o o.," *
;"y-,h'";.
I'm being treated like a wanker.,
'trt"s not a secret, just
raw and painful stil for Ereanor.

oK?, she

200

'Yes, because I thought you said kid, not kiss.'

'Perhaps that later, but now . . .'
She brought her face dose to mine. There were wrinkles around
her eyes; she was the oldest person I'd kissed. When we broke apart
and I gulped back more champagne she raised her arms in a sudden
rlrumatic Besture, like someone celebrating an athletics victory, and

I'rrlled off her dress. Her body was thin and brown, and when I
lrruched it I was surprised by how warm she vas, as if she'd been
lig,htly toasted. It aroused me, and with my arousal came a little

essential affection, but basically I was scared and I liked being

acirred.

The dope made me drowsy and held back sensation and reaction.

zo1

don't know why, but the Thai sticks floated me back to the suburs

and Eva's house in Beckenham, the night I wore crushed velvet

lares and Dad didn't know the way, and how l led him to the Three
Tuns, where Kevin Ayers was playing and my friends that I loved
were standing at the bar, having spent hours in their bedrooms
preparing for the evening, their gladdest moment being when a pair
of knowing eyes passed over their threads. Later, there was Charlie
sifting at the top of the stairs, perfey drcssed, iust observing.

The:e were metating advertising execlrtives, and I crawled across

the lawn to find my father was sitting on a garden bench, and Eva
sitting on him, with horizontal hair. So I went to Charlie or comort,
and now his record was playing upstairs, and he was famous and

admired, and I was an aor in a play in [.ondon, and I knew

fashionable people and went to grand houses like this, and they

But before I could complete the sentence, England's most interest-

i.g
sp
mu

between mY

didn't like it

gave his dick a

have my part i

When

looked

PolitelY' So I
enough to
nor
viciously,
not
but enough to Sive him a jolt'
was to see him murmuring his

approval. Fortunately, Pyke pulled away from my face anyway'

Smething irnportant was happening. His attention moved elsewhere.

Eleanor came over to Pyke; she came over to him quickly and
passionately, as if he were of infinite value at this moment, as i
she'd heard that he had a cmcial messa8e for her' She took his head
in her hands as if it were a precious pot, and she kissed

llke, pulling

accepted me and invited no one else and couldn't wait to make love
to me. And there was my mother tr,embling with pain at her soul
being betrayed, and the end o our family life and everything else
starting from that night. And Gene was dead. He'd known poetry by
heart and \^'as ang{r and neve got any work, and I wished I'd met
him and seen his face. How could I ever leplace him in Eleanor's
eyes?
When I sat trp I had to search my mind for a due to where I was. I
felt as if the lights in my mind had been funed off. But I did see a
couple onthe farside of the room, illuminated onlybythelightfrom

his somewhat comrgated lips towards her, as she'd pulled my head

watching the strange couple kiss and rub their hands on each other.
The man was pushing the woman back on the sofa. She had taken
off the black suit and red shirt, for some reason, though she looked
her loveliest in them.
Marlene and I tumbled on the loor. I had been in her already, and
noticed odd things, like how she had strong muscles in her cunt,
which she utilized to grip the end of myprick as profussionally as my
own pinkies. When she wanted to stop me moving inside her she
merely flexed her cunt musdes and I was secrrred or life.
I-ater, when I looked up, the couple had separated and Pyke's
body was carrying his erection in my direction, like a lorry sustaining a crane.
"That looks fun,' his voice said.
1es, it -'

his status, to approach him; but at last she'd come to know him
precisely the way she'd always wanted to know him'

the hall. And by the door an lrish girl stood as i by invitation,

- the
the
or
Space,
ICA, was it, or was it the Royal Court, or the Open
wanted
she
,{lrnost Free, or the Bush? - but anyway, however much
hirn then, she was too intimidated by his renown, by his talent, by
first admired him and then spotted him in the foyer of a theatre

Marlene was transfixed by all this. She moved around them for a
better look. 'oh yes, yes,' she was saying- 'Is so beautiful, so
beautiful, I can't believe it"'
'Stop talkingi Pyke snapped, suddenly.
'But I can't believe it,' Marlene lwent on. 'Can you, Karim?'
'It's unbelievable,' I said'
This distracted Eleanor. She looked at me dreamily, and then at
Pyke. She withdrew his ingers from her cunt and put thern in my
mouth.

'Don't let me have all the fun,' she said to Pyke, pleadingly'
'Please, why don't you two touch each other?'
Marlene nodded vigorously at this constructive suggestion'
201

1es?' Eleanor said. But it was fficult for me to reply with a

mouthful of Pyke's fingers.

'Oh yes, yes,' said Marlene.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

'Calm down,'sd $ke to her.

'I am calm,'Marlene said. She was also drunk.
'Christ,' said Pyke to Eleanor. ,Btoody Marlene.,

Marlene fell back on to the cout, naked, with her legs open.
'There's so much we can do toni8ht she cried. Ther,e' hours and
hours of total pleasure ahead of us. We can do whatever we want.

We've only just

down to it. Now

would you

we,ll get
mY

mind

".rnt'

l was in my usual state; I had no money. Things vere so desperate it

had become necessary for me to work. We were in the mide of a
ew weeks' break while Louise went away and tried to construct a
rringle coherent drama around the improvisations and charaers

we'd created. The whole Process o putting on a show with $ke

took months and months. We started in the early surlmer and now
it was autumn. And anyway, Pyke had gone a$'ay to Boston to
te4ch. 'We'll work on it for as long as it takes,' he said. 'Is the
process and not the result that matters to me.' fu.ing this waiting
time, instead of going on holiday like Carol, Tracey and Richard, I
started to work as a whee!-barrow merchant - as I was called by Eva
- on the transornration of the flat. Reluctantly, I started to shift the
debris myself. It was hard, filthy work, so I v/as surprised when one
night Eleanor suddenly said that she'd like to share the job with me.
'Pleas ,' she said. 'I've got to get out of the house. Being here I start
to

think.'

Not wanting Eleanor to think, and wanting to draw her to me after

that evening with Pyke (whi we neve discussed), I went to Eva
and told her to employ Eleanor as well. 'Of course, she'll have to be
paid the s.rme as me. We'r a ceoperative,' I said.
By this time Eva had acquired a new sharpness, in all senses.
She'd started to get as well organized as any managing direor; she
even wked rrore quickly; she was sleeker, crisper. There were lists

of everything. No mystic vaPorrrs obscured the way things like

clearing flts were acfuy done. Flowing and sensual intuition

didn't mean praical foolishness. Eva spoke directly, without

dishonesty. And this frightened people, especially plumbers, to

whom it was a new idea. The d never had anyone say to them,
'Now tell me exactly whyitis you've made such a mess of this simple
job? Do you ways want to be fifth_rate? Is your work always
shoddy?' She'd also added cachet to hersel by being Charlie's
mother. Twice she'd been interviewed by Sunday newspaper
supplements.
2a+

205

Now she was getting sniffy with me. 'I can't afford to hire Eleanor
too. Anyway, you told me she's mad,'she said.

'So are you.'

'Actors, Karim, are convivial company. They put on funny voices
and do imitations. But they have no personality.'
'I'm an actor, Eva.'
'Oh yes, I forgot. So you are. But I don't think of you as one.,
'What are you saying?'
'Don't look so severe, darling. Is only that you don't have to
throw yourself at the first woman to open her legs for you.,
'Eva!'
Srnce The lungle Bunny Bnkl'd leamed to fight back, though it cost
me a lot to take on Eva. I dn't want to frighten off my new
mummy. But I said, 'Eva, I won't work for you unless Eleanor does
too.'
'All right, it's a deal, if you insist. The same wages for both of you.
Except that now you wages are reduced by twenty-five per cent.,
So Eleanor and I did all the shitwork in that big roomul of white
dust, ripping the place apart and tipping volcano-shaped piles of the
past into skips outside. It was a busy time for Eva, too. She,d been
commissioned to redesign the flat of a television producer who was
away in America. This was Ted and Eva's first big outside job, so
while Eleanor and I worked on our pl,ace, she and Ted would be at
this other flat in Maida Vale, working on the plans. Eva and Dad
slept there, as did I, occasionly.
While we worked, Eleanor and I listened to the new music, to the
Clash, Generation X, the Condemned, the Adves, the Pretenders
and the only ones; and we drank wine and ate sausages crPeted
with onions and lit up by mustard. At the end of the day we got the
z8 bus to Notting Hill, always sitting at the front of the top deck as it
cruised through the Kensington Ftrigh Street trfic. I looked at the
secretaries' legs down below and Eleanor worked out from the
Eaening Naos which play we'd see that night.
Back at her place we showered, put sugar-water in our hair so we
looked like porcupines, and changed into black clothes. Sometimes I
wore eye-liner and nail vamish. Off we went to the Bush, a tiny
room above a pub in Shepherd's Bush, a theatre so small that those
in the front row had their feet on the stage. The famous Royal Court
Theatre in Sloane Square had plusher seats, and the plays were stuff
zo6

to make your brain whid, Caryl Churchill and Sam Shepard. Or we

would go to the Royal Shakespeare Company's Warehouse in dark,
run-down Covent Garden, sitting amont sfudents, Americans and
Brainys from North London. As your buttocks were being punished
on steel and plastic chairs you'd look across grey floorboards at
minimal scenery, maybe four chairs and a kitchen table set among a
plain of broken bottles and bombsites, a boiling world with dry ice
floating over the choking auence. London, in other words. The
actos vore clothes just like ours, only more exPensive. The plays
were three hours long, chaotic and bursting with anarchic and
defiant irnages. The writers took it for granted that Engl"^d, with its
working class composed of slags, purple-nosed losers, and animals
fed on pinball, pomography andiunk-food, was disintegratinginto
terminal class-stnrg8le. These were the science-fiion fantasies of
oxord-educated boys who never left the house. The middle class
loved it.
Eleanor always emerged flushed and talkative. This was the kind
of theatre she liked; this was where she wanted to work. She usually
knew a few people in the auence, if not in the plays, and I always

asked her to tell me how many among them she'd slept with.

lrVhatever the number and whatever the play, sitting in the warm
dark next to her inevitably tave me an ereion, and at the interval
she'd remove her tights so I could touch herthe way she liked me to.
These were the best days: waking up and finding Eleanor hot as a
pie; someEmes she'd sweated a puddle on her rest which seemed

to have risen up through the width of her boily as she slept. I

remembered my father sapng drunkenly to the Mayor at one of
Auntie lean's parties, as Mum nen ously ate through most of a cake
the size of a lad s hat, 'We little In.lians love plump white women
with fleshy thighs.' Perhaps I was living out his dreams as I
embraced Eleanos flesh, as I ran the palms of my hands lightly over
her whole body, then kissed her awake and popped my tongue into
her cunt as she opened her eyes. Half asleep, we'd love each other,
but disturbing images would sometinnes enter my head. Here we
vere, a fond and passionate pair, but to reach climax I found myself

wondering what creatures men wee that saw aP s, ElassacRes,

totur s, eviscerations at sut moments of union. I was being
tormented by devils. I kept feeling that terrible things would
happen.
za7

When Eleanor and I inished gutting the lat, and before Ted and Eva
could get started on it, 1 spent some time with leeta and famila. All I
wanted was to work in the shop in the evening and earn a bit of
money. I didn't want to get myself involved in any serious sintegration. But things had changed a lot.
Unde Anwar didt sleep at all now' At night he sat on the edge of
his chair, smoking and drinking un-Islamic drinks and thinking
portentous thoughts, dreaming of other counEies, lost houses,
'mothers, beaches.
Anwar did no work in the shop, not even
rewarding work like watching for shoplifters and shirtlifters. |amila
often found him drunk on the loor, rancid with unhappiness, when
she went by to see her mother in the morning before work. Anwar/s
hunger-strike hadn't endeared him to his amily, and now no one
attended to him or enquired into the state of his cracking heart.
'Bury me in a paupes grave,'he said to me. 'I've had it, Karim,
boy.' 'Right you are, Uncle,' I said. And Princessleeta was becoming
stronger and more wilful as Anwar declined; she appeared to be
growing an iron nose like a hook with which she could lift heavy
boxes of comed beef. She'd leave him drunk on the floor now,
mayh wiping her feet on him as she passed through to raise the
steel shutters on her domain of vegetables. It was tamila who picked
him up and put him in his Eir, though they never spoke, looking at
each other with bemused and angry love.

I began to see that Anwa/s unhappiness wasn't only selfinduced. There was a canrpgn against him. Since his attempt to
starve himself to death, Princess feeta was, in her own way, stanring
her husband to death, but subtly, month by month. There was very
definite but intangible deprivation. For example, she spoke to him,

but only occasionally, and made sure not to laugh. He started to

suffer the malnuhition of unalloyed seriousness. Someone to whom
jokes are never told soon contras enthusiasrn deficiency. feeta
cooked for him as before, but provided only plain food, the same
every day, and long after the expected time, bringing it to him when
he was asleep or about to pray. And the food was especily
prepared to ensure constipation. Days went by without hope of
relief. 'I am full of shit,' Anwar said to me. 'I feel as if I'm made of
bloody concrete. Shit is blocking my ears, boy. Is shutting uP my
nose, is seeping out through the pores of my fucking skin.'
When he spoke to feeta about the shit problem she said nothing,

but the menu changed that day" His stomach was released, oh yes'
And for weeks Anwas shit didn't touch the sides of the toilet bowl;

it would have shot through the eye of a needle. Princess feeta

continued to ask Anwas masterful advice, but only on the smallest
things, [ke whether to stock sour c an or not. (Anwar said no, as
their cream was usually sou an)ri^ray. ) one day three men teeta had
hired came in and tipp"d out the central block of shelves" thus
creating mor space in Paradise Stores. The men installed three low,
long refrigerators, which stocked large quantities o frozen and
chilled food, includint sour cneam; and feeta told Anwar nothing
about this innovation until it happened. He must have walked

downstairs into the shop and thought he was going mad when he
saw t transormed.
At least once a week Princess leeta rnade slighting remarks about
Changez, sying as she lifted a box, 'A good son-in-law would be
doing this, instead of an old woran" or she pointed out babies and
children to Anwar, and kissed them and gave their mothers free
food, because she'd never have grandrildren now, so outstanng
had been the droice of son-in-law by Anwas brilliant brother in
Bombay. To make things wor e, once in a while, perhaps or a whole
morning, she would be kind, loving and attentive to Anwar, and
then, as the smiles rcturn to his face, she'd cut him dead for a
week, until he had no idea where he stood or what was happening
to him.
One day, on his way back from the mosque, Anwar descried
through the snowstornr o his pn someone he only vaguely
recognized, so long had it been since he'd seen him (and so fat had
the person become), though mentally he stoned this figure to death
every day, and referred to him, in ront of me, as 'that fucking,bald,
us less cripple'. It was Changez, and he was out shopping with
Shinko, one of his favourite pastirnes. The d been to the Paperback
Exchange and then to Catford's largest sex shoP, the l-ounge of
Love, and Changez carried in his good arm a brown parcel containing newly acquired instruments of desire: red slitted knickers,
stockings and suspenders, magazines called Apenings for Gentlanetr
and Citizen Cane, and the star item, a large knobbly pink penis
which, for a price, he intended to Press into Shinko's lade gate as she
called out'Fuckmefuckmefuckmebigboybigboybigboy!'
On this unforgettable day Shinko carried with her a pineapple and

2q

ding to eat for her tea, had they

rotted forgotten in the gutter.

As

drizzle, Changez and Shinko,

ssed their respeive homelands,
Ina and fapan, which_they missed desperately, but
not enough to
get on a plane and go there. And Changez, if knew
*y ct a g"z,
would be abusing any Pakistanis and Indians he saw in
the st.
'Look at that low-class
he'd
say
in
a
loud
voice,
stopping
and pointing out one ofryrson,,
his fellow countrymen _ perhaps _"ito

hurrying to work or an old man ambling to the day "

cente, or

ways and forget their

how

ere or there. Look

much here I am! And why doesn,t that bugger over

there look the
EqSUlfm1n in the eye! No wonder the enitishman
wilt hit him!,
suddenly a yell was heard an over Lewisham, all
over catford,
and in Bromley. Changez, in the midst of a diatribe,
unlaced Hush Puppies, turned as pickly as he
"r,a -""_i
could, which
was not
quickly at , rather like a lorry in a culde_sac. But
when he had

manoeuwed from east to west he saw that his father_in_law,

the man

who had brought him to England, to Shinko, to Karim,

to a
bed and Harold Robbins, was shufling down the

camf

sheet towards

-in-law over the loaf right now _

and possibly club him to death. Shinko noticed
that, sr.rf,risingly,
Changez remained calm throughout- (And it was
at this noment
that her love or him was bo'n.)
As Anwar smacked downwards with his stick,
Changez lumbered
to one
knobbly ldo frm its p"p".]
bag sh
shout_ at least, Shinko said it
was a
ould she know? _ whacked my
unde smartly over the head with it. Uncle Anwar,
who,d come from
Ina to the old Kent Road to lodge with a dentist,
to |angle ani
gamble, to make his forune and refum home
to build a ho se ,'ke
210

my grandfathe/s on fuhu Beach, could never have guessed all those

ytars ago that late in life he would be knocked unconscious by a sex-

No fortune-teller had predicted this. Kipling had written 'to

t'ach his own fear', but this was not Anwa/s.
rrid.

Anwar collapsed moaning on the Pavement.

Shinko ran to a phone-box in which three boys had freshly
urinated and called an ambulance' Later that day Changez was
lnterviewed by the police and called immigrant, Paki, scum, wot,
bastard and murderer, with the offending ldo on the table before

lrim, as an aide mmoire. Changez's first impulse was to say that he

was innocent, that the dildo had been planted on him by the police,
nince he knew such crimes occurred frequently. But even he knew
better than to try to suggest to a white English lury that Constable
McCrum had slipped a large pink sex-toy into the accused's pocket'
Changez was held under consideration for assault.
Meanwhile Anwarn with a bandage around his head that made
hirn look like the dying Trotsky, was in intensive care for a week.
Ite'd had heart failure. Jamila and I and occasionally Princess feeta
we{e at his bedside. Butfeeta could be cmel' 'Why do I want to see
tlrat black man?' she said one night, as we were on our vay there on
the bus.
I didn't know why, but Dad wouldn"t go and see Anwar at all.

l'erhaps

I felt more sentimental about Dad's past than he did

himsel, but I wanted to see the t\'o men together again. 'Please go
to the hospital,'I said.
'I don't want to give myself depression,' Dad replied fastidiously'
Dad had seriously fallen out with Anwar. Th"y weren't speaking
at all now" It was over the fact that Anwar thought Dad should never
have left Mum. It was a comrpt thing to do. Have a mistress, Anwar
said, and treat both women equy well, but never leave your wife.
Anwar insisted that Eva was an immoral woman and that Dad had

been seduced by the West, becoming as decadent and lacking in

values as the rest of the society. He even listened to PoP music,

didn't he? 'He'll be eating pork pie next,' Anwar said. Naturally, all
this infuriated Dad, who accepted the decadence and comrption line
_ he started using the word 'immor' all the time - but not with
reference to himself.
Only Eva could have got Dad out to see Anwar, but she was rarely
at home anyway. Eva was working non-stoP. They were a terrific
27.t

honest about this: he preferred England

in every way. Things

worked; it wasn't hof you didn't see terrible things on the street that

you could do nothing about. He wasn't proud of his past, but he

she moved away from him. Eva was ways out, and I knew Dad
was thinking of
probably idealizing
her. He hadn't
the Phone'

whereas

before

il-T:"
slness.

Anwar ed, mumbling about Bombay, about the beach, about the
boys at the cathedral school, and calling for his mother.
famila
insisted he should be buried in a place she roved, a smal grassy
place where she often went to read, and
8ays to sunbattre an

wast unproud of it either; it just existed, and there vasn't any

point in fetishizing it, as some liberals and Asian radicals liked to do.
So if I wanted the adtional personality bonus of an lnan past, I
would have to create it.
When they lowered the coffin into the earth, and there seemed no
crueller thing than life itself, famila staggered to one side, as if one
leg had given way, fainting and almost collapsing on to the
sappearing box. Changez, who had not taken his eyes from his
wife all day, was instantly bede her, his feet plunging ankledeep

into mud, but with his arms around his wife at last, their bodies

Partly I blamed Dad for this. After all, like Anwar, for most
of his lie
he'd never shown any interest in going back to India. He was
always

together, an ecstatic look on his face and, down below, I noticed, an

erection. Rather inappropriate for a funeral, I thought, especially
when you'd murdered the viim.
That night, when lamila had put her mother to bed - and leeta had
wanted to start work right away on reorganizing Paradise Stores - I
raided the shop downstairs for the Newcastle Brown ale the three of
us had recently taken to, and lugged the thick bottles upstairs to the
flat. The place still contained, naturally, Anwa/s possessions, as if
he were away somewhere and would soon eh.rn. Pathetic Possessions they were, too: slippers, cigarettes, stained waistcoats and
several paintings of sunsets that Anwar thought were masterpieces
and had left to me.
The three of us u/ere tired but we weren't ready for sleep. Besides,
farnila and I had to look after the constantly weeping Changez,
whom we referred to privately as the Dldo Killer' outwary the
Dildo Killer was the most upset of us all - b.i.g the least English, I
suppose - even though the victim, Anwar, had hated him and had
got himself killed trying to reduce Changez's brain to mashed
potato. Looking at Changez's regularly puckering and shuddering
face, I could see that really it was jamila he was upset about. The old
man he was glad to be rid of. Changez was only terdfied that famila
would blame him tbr whacking her dad over the head and therefore
love him less than she did already.
Jamila herself was quieter than usual, which made me nervous,
because I had to do all the talking, but she was gniied and
contained, vulnerable without crylng everywhere. Her father had

2!2

213

'Which ways?'
'In his shop, for instance.,
'ReIy?'
'Stacking shelves,' he said sarcastically.
There was a minor row when one of the Indians pulled out a
handy compass and announced that the hole hadn,tbeen dug facing
in the right direction, towards Mecca. The five Indians
u'
"r,irtua
coffin a little and murmured verges rom the Koran.
Atl this
reminded me of the time I was thrown out of a class at school
or
asking what people would be wearing in heaven. I thought I
was
one o the first people in history to find all religion chilisn and
inexplicable.

died at the wrong time, when there was much to be clarified and
established. They hadt even started to be grown-ups together.
There was this piece of heaven, this little girl he'd carried around the
shop on his shoulders; and then one day she was gone, replaced by a
foreigner, an unccoperative woman he didn't know how to speak
to. Being so confused, so weak, so in love, he chose strength and

drove her away from himself. The last years he spent wondering
where she'd gone, and slowly came to realize that she would never
refum, and that the husband he'd chosen or her was an idiot.
Wearing an inside'out sweatshirt and ieans once more, lying back
on the rough orange sofa, Iamila put a bottle of Brown to her lips.
Changez and I passed a bottle between us. Big Muslim hc was,
drinking on the day of a funeral. It was only with these two that I felt
part of a family. The three of us were bound together by ties sbonger
than personality, and sbonger than the liking or disliking o each
other.
Jamila spoke slowly and thoughtfully. I wondered if she'd taken a
couple of Valium. 'All of this has made me think about what I want
in my life. I've been tired for a while of the way things have been.
I've been conservative in a way that doesn't suit me. I'm leaving the
flat. It's being returned to the lanord unless yolt'- she glanced at
the Dildo Killer - 'want to pay the rent. I want to live somewhere

else.'
The Killer looked terrified. He was being abandoned. He looked
frantically between his two friends. His face was appalled. This,

then, was how things happened.

A few

simple words were

exchanged, and ever after it would all be different. One day you
were in clover in your camp-bed, the next in shit up to your neck.
She was being straightforward, lamila, and the straightforward was
not a method I preferred for myself. Changez had never accustomed
himsel to it either.
'Elsewhere where?' he managed to say.
'I want to try and live in anothe way. I've felt isolated.'
'I am there daily.'
'Changez, I want to live communally with a bunch of people friends - in a large house they've bought in Peckham.'
She slid her hand over his as she broke the news. It was the first
time I'd seen her touch her husband voluntarily.
'fammie, what about Changez?' I asked.
2a4

'What would you like to do?'she asked him.

'Go with you. Go together, eh? Husband and wie, always

together, despite our difficult characters, eh?'

'No.' She shook her head firrnly, but with some sadness. 'Not

necessarily.'
I butted in. 'Changez won't be able to survive alone, fammie' And
l'm going on tour soon' What'll happen to him, d'you think?'
She looked forcefully at both of us, but she addressed Changez'
'But that's for you to think about. Why don't you go back to your
family in Bombay? They have a house there, you've told me' There is
spaoe, there are servants, chauffeurs.'
'But you are mY wife.'
'Only legally,' she said gentlY.
1ou will always be my wife. The legal is nothing, I understand
that. But in my heart you are my famila''
1es, well, Changez, you know is never been like that"
'I'm not going back,' he said flatly. 'Never. You won't niake me''
'I wouldn't make you do anything. You must do what suits you''

his
for

the

word'Eurocentric'but he decided to keep it up his sleeve' 'Here, in

this capitalism of the feelings no one cares for another person. Isn',t
that so?'
Yes it is so,'famila admitted.
uP another P rson
'Everyone is left
hete is too hard for
when they ale righ
will try to make it
me. So I go down

alone.'

,\A/hat is it you really want, then?' she asked

him'

He hesitated. He looked at her imploringly.

She said guickly, fatally, perhaps without thinking
'Would you like to come with me?'
He nodded, unable to believe his hairy ears.
'Are you sure thas possible?'
'l don't know,' she said.
'of course is possible,' he said.
'Changez -'
That's good,'I said. 'Excellent.'
za5

it throu8h:

'But I haven't thought about it."

cracking like an old painting. A pipe poured water down the walls.
And three local skinheads, as respectable as Civil Servants, though
one had a spider's web tattooed on his face, stood outside and

'We'll talk it over in time,'he said.

'But I'm not sure, Changez.'

Jamila.'

1e won't be husband and wie - you know tlrat'll never haPPen,

don't you?' she said. 'In this house you'll have to take part in the
communal life of the place.'
'l think he'll be superb comrnuny, ol' Changez,' I said, since the
Dildo Killer was weeping again, this time with relief. ,He,ll help with
washing the people's plates. He's a whizz with crockery and

cutlery."
She was stuck with him now" There was no way out. She said; ,But
you'll have to pay your way, Changez" Thas how I don,t see it
happening. My father pd the lent on our lat, but those days are
gone. Yoll have to suPPort yourself.' And she added tentatively,
You might have to work.'
This was too mur. Changez looked at me anxiously.
'Exciting, huh?' I said.
We sat there, talking it over. He would go with her. She couldn,t
get out of it now.

As l watredfamila I thoughtwhat a terrificperson she,dbecome.

She was low today, and she was often scornful of me anyway" the
supercilious bitch, but I couldn't help seeing that therc was in her a
great depth of will, of delight in the world, and rnuch energy for
love. Ier feminism, the sense of self and fight it engendered, the
schemes and plans she had, the relationships - whir she desired to
take this form and not that fomr - the things she had made hersel
know, and all the understanding this gave, seemed to illuminate her

tonight as she went forrarard, an Indian wouran, to live

white England.

useful lie in

As I had sone sPale time before rehearsals started again I borrowed

Ted's van and helped install famila and the Dildo Killer in their new
house. Tuming up with a truckful of paperbacks, the works of
Conan Doyle and various sex-aids, I was surprised to see a big,
double-fronted and detached place standing back from the main
road, from which it was concealed by a thick hedge. There were
rotting tarpaulins, old baths, disintegrating free magazines and
sodden debris all over the garden; the stately house itself was
zr.6

jeered.

Inside, the place was full of the most eater and hard-working
ve6etarians I'd ever seen, eanest and humorous, with degrees in
this and that, scussing Cage and Schumacher as they dragged out
the cistern in their blue dungarees and boiler suits. Changez stood in
front of a banner which read 'America, where are you now? Don't
you cale about your sons and daughters?' He looked like oliver
Hardy in a roomful of Paul Newmans, and was as frightened as a
new boy at school. When someone hurried past him and said,
'Civilization has taken a wront tutn,' Changez looked as if he'd
rather be anywhere than Utopia. I saw no tarot cards, though
someone d say they wete intending to'make love to the garden'. I
left Changez there and rushed home to add new touches to his
character.

There were few iobs I relished as much as the invention of

Changez/Tariq. With a beer and notebook on my desk, and con-

centrating for the first time since childhood on something that

absorbed me, my thoughts raced: one idea pulled another behind it,

like coniures handkerchiefs. I uncovered notions, connections,

initiatives I didn't even know were present in my mind. I became
more energetic and alive as I brushed in new colours and shades. I
worked regularly and kept a iourna! I saw that creation was an
accretive process which couldn't be hurried, and which involved
patience and, primarillr, love. I felt more solid myself, and not as if
my mind were iust a kind of cinema for myriad impressions and
emotions to flicker though. This was worth doing, this had
meaning, this added up the elements of my life. And it was this that
$ke had taught me: what a creative life could b . So despite what
he'd done to me, my admiration for him continued. I dn't blame
him for anything; I was prepared to pay the price for his being a
romantic, an experimenter. He had to pursue what he wanted to
know and follow his feelings wherever they went, even as far as my
arse and my girlfriend's cunt.
When I went back to the commune a few weeks later, to ga+her
more ideas for Changez/Tariq and to see how Changez had settled
in, I found the front garden had been cleared. There were piles o
217

scaffolding ready to be erected around the house. There would be a

new roof. Uncle Ted was advising on the renovation and had been
over several times to help out.
I enjoyed seeing the vegetarians and their comrades working
together, even if they did call each other comrade. I liked to stay late
and drink with them, though they did go in for organic wine. And
when he could persuade them to take oNashailk Skyline, Simon _
the radical lawyer with short hair, tie and no beard, who seemed to

run the place - played Charlie Mingus and the Mahavishnu

Orchestra. He told me what jazz I might like because, to be frank, I'd

become deadly bored with the new music I was hearing.
As we sat there they talked about how to construct this equitable
society. I said nothing, for fear of appearing stupid; but I knew we
had to have it. Unlike Terr5/s bunch, this lot dn't want power. The
problem, said Sirnon, was how to overthrow, not those presently in
polver, but the whole principle of power-over.
Going horne to Eva's, or back to Eleanos or the night, I \^dshed I
could have stayed with |amila and Changez. The newest ideas were
passing through their house, I thought. But we were rehearsing a
play, and Louise Lawrence had managed to compose a third of it.
The opening was only weeks away. There was plenty to be done,
and I was frightened.

zr8

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was while watching Pyke as he rehearsed in his farniliar blue

tracksuit, the tight bottoms of which hugged his arse like a cushion
cover and outlined his little dick as he moved around the room, that I
irst began to suspect I'd been seriously let down. That prick, whit
lrad fucked me uP the arse while Marlene cheered us on as if ve
wcre all-in wrestlers - and while Eleanor fixed hersel a drink - had
virtually ruptured me. Now, I began to be certain, the fucker was
ucking me in other ways. I would look into it.
I watched him closely. He was a good director, because he liked

rlther people, even when they were difficult- (He saw fficult
people as puzzles to be solved.) Actors liked him because he knew
t hat even they could discover for themselves the right way through a
part if he gave them room. This flattered them, and actors love
lattery. Pyke never got angFy or shoved you in a direction you
tlidn't want to go; his manipulations we1e subtle and effeive. All
the same, these were painful days for me. The others, especially
(larol, often became anry, because I was slower and more stupid
ttran they were. 'Karim's got all the right qualifications for an aor"
Carol said. 'No ternique, no exPerience, no Presence.'
So Pyke had to go over every line and move o the first scene with
me. My greatest fear was that when the final script was delivered
l.awrence and Pyke would have allowed me only a small part, and
l'd be hanging around back-stage like a spare prick. But when Louise
delivered the play I saw to my suPrise that I had a cracker of a part- I
couldn"t wait to exhibit it.
What a strange business this acting is, Pyke said; you are trying to
convince people that you're someone else, that this is not-me' The
way to do it is this, he said: when in character, playing not-me, you
have to be yourself. To make your not-selfreal you have to steal from
your authentic self. A false stroke, a wong note, anything Pretended, and to the audience you are as obvious as a Catholic naked
in a mosque. The closer you play to yourself the better. Paradox of
2a9

paradoxesr to be someone else successfully you must be yourself!

This I leamed!
We went north in winter, touring the play around sfuo theatres
and arts centres. We stayed in freezing hotels where the owners

regarded their guests as little more than burglars, sleeping in

unheated rooms with toilets up the hall, places without telephones
where they refused to serve breakfast after eight. 'The way the
English sleep and eat is enough to make you want to ernigrate to
Italy,' Eleanor said every day at breakfast. For Carol, all that
rnattered was playing in London; the north was Siberia, the people

animals.
I was playing an immigrant fresh from a small lndian town. I
insisted on assembling the costume myself: I knew I could do
something apt' I wore high white plaorm boots, wide cherry flares
that sfuck to rny arse like sveetPaPer and flapped around my ankles,
and a spotted shirt with a wide'Concorde'collar flattened over my
iacket lapels.
At the first performance, in front of an audience of twenty, as soon
as I walked out on stage, farting with fear. there was laughter,

uncertain at first, then from the belly as they took me in. As

continud, gusts of pleasure lited me. I was

a wretched and comic

character. The other aors had the loaded lines, the many-syllabled

political analysis, the flame-throwing attacks on pusilLanirnous

l^abour govemments, but it was me the auenee warmed to. They
laughed at my jokes; which concemed the sexual ambition and
humiliation of an Inan in England. Unforhrnately, my major
scenes were with Carol, who, after the first performance, started to
look not-nicely across the stage at me. After the third performance,
in the dressing room, she yelled, 'I can't a with this person - he's a
pratt, not an actor!' And she ran to ring $ke in London.
Matthew had driven back to London that afternoon. He'd gone all
the way from Manchester to London to sleep with a brilliant vonan
barrister who'd defended bombers and freedom fighters. This is a
superb opportunity, Karim,'he told me. 'After all, I've got the hang
o the police, but the formal law, that pillar of our society, I want it
beside me, on my very pillow.' And off he sped, leaving us to
audiences and rain.
Perhaps Pyke was in bed discrrssing the fate of the Bradford Eight
or the Leeds Six when Carol rang him. I imagined him being careful

in his love-making with the barrister; he'd think of everything champagne, hash, flowers - to ensure she thought highly and

passionately of him. And now Carol was saying persuasively down

the phone that I seemed to be in a different play to the others, a
farce, perhaps. But, like most talented people who are successful
with the public, Pyke was blessed with a vulgar streak. He supported me. 'Karim is the key to this play,'he told Carol.
When we arrived in London after visiting ten cities, we started to
re.rehearse and prepare for previews at an arts centre in West
London, not far from Eva's flat. It was a fashionable place, where the
latest in international dance, sculpture, cinema and theatre was
displayed. It was run by two higNy strung aesthetes who had a
purity and severity of taste that made Pyke look rococo in comparison. I sat around with them in the restaurant, eating bean-shoots
and listening to talk of the new dance and an innovative form called
'performance'. I saw one'performance'- This involved a man in a
boiler suit pulling a piece of Camembe acToss a vast floor by a piece
of string. Behind him two boys in black played guitars. It was called
Cheesepiece. After, I heard people say, 'I liked the original inage.' It
was all an education. I'd never heard sur venom expressed on
subies which I'd only ever considered lightly. To the aesthetes, as
with Pyke (but much worse), the performance of an aor or the
particular skill of a writer whose work I'd seen with Eleanor and

thought of as 'promising' or 'a bit jejune', vvas as important as

earthquakes or marriages. 'IV"y they die of cancer,' they said of

these authors. I also imagined the d want to get togetherwith Pyke
and discuss Stanislavsky and Artaud and all, but they hated each
othes guts. The two aesthetes barely mentioned the man whose
show was rehearsing in their theatre, except in terms like 'that man
who irons his jeans' or'Caliban'. The two aesthetes were assisted by
a fleet of exquisitely dressed middle-dass girls whose fathers were
television tycoons. It was an odd set-up: this was the subsidized
theatre, and these were radical people, but it was as if everyone - the

people who worked there, iournalists, fans of the company, other

directors and actors - wanted the answer to only one question: ls
this play going to be successful or not?
To escape the mounting tension and anxiety, one Sunday morning I
went to visit Changez at his new place. They were great people, the

vegetarians, but

was nenr'ous of how they would react when they

found that Changez was a fat, useless bum, and'that they would

have to carry him.

At irst I didn't recognize him' It was partly the environment in
which he was now living. OId Bubble was sitting in the all-pine
communal kitchen sunounded by plants and piles of radical newsPaPers. on the wall were Posters adveising demonstrations
against South Africa and Rhodesia, meetings, and holidays in Cuba
and Albania. Changez had had his hair cut; his Flaubert moustache
had been plucked from under his nose; and he was wearing a large
grey boiler suit buttoned up to the throat. 1ou look like a motormechanic,' I said. He beamed back at me. Among other things he
was pleased that the assault case against him had been dropped,
once it was certain that Anwar had died of a heart attack. 'I'rn going
to make the most of my lilfe now, yaer,'he said.
Sitting at the table with Changez were Simon and a young, fairhaired girl, Sophie, who was eating muffins. She'd iust rettrrned
from selling anarchist nen'sPaPers outside a faory.
When Changez oercd, to my surprise, to 8o out to the shops for
nilk, I asked them how he was doing, whether everything was al|
right. Was he coping? I was aware that my tone of voice incated
that I thought of Changez as a minor mental patient. But Simon and
Sophie liked Changez. Sophie referred to him once as a ,disabled
immigran, which, I suppose, the Dldo Killer was. Maybe this gave
him credence in the house. He'd obviously had the sense not to talk
at length about being from a farrily who owned racehorses. And he
nust have cut the many stories he used to tell ure about the number
of servants he'd been thtough, and fus analysis of the qualities he
reckoned were essential in a good senrant, cook and sweep r.
'I love the communal life, Karim,'Changez said, when we went
for a walk later that day. "The family atmosphere is here without
naggint aunties. Except for the meetings, yaar. They have them
every five minutes. We have to sit time after time and scuss this
thing and that thing, the garden, the cooking, the contion of
England, the condition of Chile, the condition of Czechoslovakia.
This is dernocrary gone berserk, yaar" 5til1, it's bloody amazing and
everything, the nudity you see daily.'
'What nudity?'
'Full nudity. Complete nudity."

'What kind of rrll and complete nudity?'

There are five girts here, and only Simon and I representing the
gentlemen's side. And the girls, on the communist principle of

having no shame to hide, go completely without dothes, their

breasts without brassieres! Their bushes without concealment!'
'Christ - '
'But I can't stay there -'
'What, after that? Why not, Bubble? Look what I've fixed you
up with! Think of the breasts without brassieres over breakfast!'
'Karim, it breaks my heart, yaar. But lamila has started to yell with
this nice boy,. Simon. They are in the next room. Every night I hear
them shaking the bed around. It blasts my bloody ears to Kingdom

Coming.'
That was bound to happen one day, Changez. I'll buy you some
ear plugs if you like.' And I gi$led to myself at the thought of
Changez listening to the love of his life being shafted nextdoor night
after night. 'or why dot you change rooms?'
He shook his head. 'I like to be near her. I like to hear her moving
around. I am famitar with every sound she makes. At this moment
she is sitting down. At ttrat moment she is reading. I like to know.'
You know, Changez, love can be very mut like sfupity.'
'Love is love, and it is etemal. You don't have romantic love in the
West any more. You just sing about it on the rao. No one rey
loves, here.'
'What about Eva and Dad?' l countered iauntily. Thas romantic,
isn't it?'
That's adultery. Thas pure evil.'

'Oh,

I see.'
was pleased to find Changez so cheerful. He seemed glad to have
escaped lethargy into this new life, a life I'd never have imagined
I

suiting him.
As we loafed around I saw how dereli and poor this end of the
city - South London - really was, compared with the London I was
living in. Here the unemployed were walking the streets with
nowhere else to go, the men in dirty coats and the women in old
shoes without stockings. As we walked and looked Changez talked
of how much he liked English people, how polite and considerate
they were. 'They're gentlemen. Especially the women. They don't
try to do you down all the time like the Indians do.'
22)

These gentlemen had unhealthy faces; their skin was grey. The
housing estates looked like makeshift prison camps; dogs ran
around; rubbish blew abou! there was graffiti. Small trees had been
planted with protective wire netting around them, but they,d all
been snapped off anyway. The shops sold only inadequate and
badly made clothes. Everything looked cheap and shabby, the
worse for trying to be flash. Changez must have been thinking the
same things as me. He said, 'Perhaps I feel at home here because it

reminds me of Calcutta.'
When I said it was time for me to go, Changez's mood changed.
From broodiness he snapped into businesslike attack, as if he,d
worked out in advance what he wanted to say, and now was the
time to deliver it.
'Now, tell me, Karim, you'e not using my own character in your
play, are you?'
'No, Changez. I told you already.'
'Yes, you laid your word of honour on the line.'
'Yes, I did. Ritht?'

He thought for a few seconds. 'But what does it stand

ultimately, your word of honour?'

for,

'Everything, man, every fucking thing, for God's sake! Christ,

Changez, you're becorning fucking self-righteous, aren't you?,

He looked at me sternly, as if he didn't believe me, the bastard,
and off he went to waddle around South L,ondon.

few days later, after we'd started previewing the play in

London, famila rang to tell me that Changez had been attacked

suggested that he'd laid down under the railway bridge and inlicted
the wound on himself, to scredit them.
The attack on Changez angered me, and I asked famila if I could

do anything. Yes; these attacks were happening all the time.

should come with famila and her friends on a march the following
Saturday. The National Front were parading through a nearby Asian
district. There would be a fascist rally in the Town Hall; Asian shops
would be attacked and lives threatened. Local people were scared.
We couldn't stop it we could only march and make our voices
heard. I said I'd be there.
I

hadn't been sleeping with Eleanor more t}an once

week recently.

Nothing had been said, but she'd cooled towards me. I wan't
I liked to go home and be frightened alone.
I prepared myself for the opening by walking around the flat as
Changez, not caricaturing him but getting behind his peculiar
eyebs. Robert de Niro would have been proud of me.

alarmed; after rehearsing

took it for granted that Eleanor spent the evenings at parties with

her friends. She often invited me, too, but I'd noticed that after a
couple of hours with her crowd I felt heavy and listless. Lie had
offered these people its lips, but as they dragged from party to party,
seeing the same faces and saying the same things night after night, I
saw it was the kiss of death; I saw how much was enervated and
useless in them. What passion or desire or hunger d they have as

they lounged

in their London living rooms? I told my political

up duties. The police, who were getting sick of Changez, had

adviser, Sergeant Monty, that the ruling class weren't worth hating.
He disagreed. 'Their complacency makes them worse,' he argued.
When I rang Eleanor and told her we should ioin the others in
confronting the fascists, her attitude was strange, especially considering what had happened to Gene. She vacillated all over the
place. On the one hand there was this shopping to do in Sainsbur s;
on the other hand there was that person to visit in hospital. 'I'll see
you at the demo, love,' she concluded. 'My head's a [ttle messed
up.'I put the phone down.
I knew what to do. I was supposed to be meetingfamila, Changez,
Simon, Sophie and the others at the house that morning. So what?
I'd be late. I wouldn't miss the march; I'd just go straight there.
I waited an hour and caught the tube northwards, towards Pyke's.
I went into the front garden of the house opposite his, sat down on a

224

225

under a railway bridge when coming back from a Shinko session. It

was a tlpical South London winter evening - silent, dark, cold,
o1w, damp - when this gang jumped out on Changez and called
him a Paki, not realizing he was Indian. They pianted their feet all
over him and started to canre the initials of the National Front into
his stomach with a razor blade. They fled because Changez let off

the siren of his Muslim warrios call, which could be heard in

Buenos Aires. Naturally he was shocked; shit-scared and shaken up,

famila said. But he hadn't been slow to take advantage of the
kindness shown him by everyone. Sophie was now bringing him his
breakfast in bed, and he'd been let of various cooking and washing-

log and watched Pyke's house through a hole in the hedge. Time
passed. It was getting late. I'd have to take a cab to the march. That
would be oK, as long as famila dn't catclr me getting out o a taxi.
After three hours of waiting I saw Eleanor approach pyke,s house.
What a genius I was: how ight rd been! Eleanor rang the bell and
Pyke answered immediately. Not a kiss, or a sts:oke, or a smile - only
the door shutting behind her. Then nothing. what d I expect? I
stared at the dosed door. What was I to do? This was something I
'hadn't thought
about. The march and demonshation would be in
full swing. Perhaps Pyke and Eleanor would be going on it. I,d wait
for them; mayh dedare mysel, say I was passin$, and get a lift to
the march with them.
I wted anotlrer thrce hours. They must have been having a late
lunr. It started to get dark. When Eleanor emerged I followed her
to the tube and got into the caniage behind her, sitting opposite her
in the train. She looked P tty surprised when she tlanced up and
saw me sitting there. 'Vllhat are you doing on the Bakerloo Line?, she
asked.

Well, l wast in a defensive mood. I went and sat right next to

h r. strtht out, I asked her what she'd been doing at Pyke,s,

instead of throwing her body in frront of farists.

She thr,ew back her hair, looked around the train as if for an escape
and said she could say the same about me. She wouldn,t look at me,
but she wasn't defensive. 'Pyke attracts me,' she said. ,Hs an
exciting man. You may not have noticed, but tlrere's so ew of those

around.'

"lVill you cary on sleeping nith him7

1es, yes, whenever he asks me.'
Tlow long's it been going on?'

'Since that time . . . since that time we went over there for supper

and you and Pyke d that sfuff to ear orer.'

She rested her reek against mine. The sweetness of her skin and
entire aloma practically made me pass out.

'Oh, love,'I said.

She said, 'I want you to be with me, IGrim, and I've done a lot for
you. But I cat have people - men - telling me what to do. If Pyke
wants me to be $'ith him, then I must follow my desire. There,s so
much for him to teach me. And please, please, don,t ever follow me

around again.'

226

The doors of the train were closing, but I rnanaged to nip through
them. As I walked up the platform I resolved to break with Eleanor. I
would have to see her every day at the theatre, but I'd never address
her as a lover again. It was over, then, my first real love affair. There
would be others. She preferred.Pyke. Sweet Gene, her black lover,
London's best mime, who emptied bed-pans in hospital soaps,
killed himself because every day, by a look, a remark, an attitude,
the English told him they hated him; they never let him forget they

thought him a nigger, a slave, a lower b"i^g. And we pursued

English roses as we pursued England; by possessing these plzes,
this kindness and beauty, we stared defiantly into the eye of the
Empire and all its self-regard - into the eye of Hairy Back, into the
eye of the Great Fucking Dane. We became part of England and, yet
proudly stood outside it. But to be ruly free we had to free ourselves
of all bitterness and resentment, too. How was this possible when
bitterness and resentment were generated afresh every day?
I'd send Eleanor a gnified note. Then I'd have to fall out of love
with her. That was the rough part. Everything in life is organized
around people falling in love with each other. Falling is easy; but no
one tells you how to fall out of love. I didn't know where to begin.
For the rest of the day I wandered around Soho and sat through
about ten porn films. For a week after that I must have gone into
some kind of weird depression and sulk and social incapacity,
because I cared nothing for what should have been the greatest
evening of my life - the opening of the playIn these days before the opening I didt talk to the other aos.
The intimacy Pyke had engendered now seemed like a drug which
had temporarily given us the impression of affection and support
but had now vorn off, returning only in occasional flashbacks, like
LSD. I took direction from }ke but I dn't get in his car again. I'd
admired him so rnuch, his talent, daring and freedom from convention, but now I was confused. Hadn't he betrayed me? Or
perhaps he was helping to educate me in the way the world worked.
I didn't know. Anyway, Eleanor must have told him what had
happened between us because he kept away from me and was
merely polite. Marlene wrote to nne once, saying, 'Where are you,
sweetheart? Won't you come see me again, sweet Karim?' I didn't
reply. I was sick of theatre people and the whole play; I was tuming
numb. What happened to rne didn't seem to matter. Sometimes I felt
227

a W, but

most of the time I felt nothing; ['d never felt so much

nothing beore.
The dressing nooms were full of lowers and cards,-nd there were
more kisses in an hour than in the whole of Paris in a day. There
were TV and radio interviews, and a iournalist asked me what the
main events of my life had been. I was photographed several times
beside barbed-wire. (I noticed that photographers seemed to love
barbed-wire.) I was living intensely in my mind, trying to keep my
eyes off Eleanor, trying not to hate the other aors too uruch.
Then, suddenly, this was it, the night of nights, and I was on stage
alone in the full glare of the lights, with four hundred white English
people looking at me. I do know that lines that sounded overfamiliar and meaningless to me, and came out of my mouth with all
the rtsonance o 'Hallo, how are you today?' were invested with life
and meaning by the auence, so much so that the evening was a
triumph and I was - I have this on girod authority, that of the critics hilarious and honest. At last.
Ater the show I drank offa pint of Guinness in the dressing room
and dragged myself out into the foyer. There I saw, right in front of
me, a strange and unusual si6ht, especially as I'd invited no one to
the opening.
If I'd been in a film I would have rubbed my eyes to incate that I
dn't believe what I was seeing. Mum and Dad were talking to each
otlrer and smiling. Is not what you expect of your Parents. Thete,
among the punk sophisticates and bow-ties and shiny shoes and
baebacked women, was Mum, wearing a blue and white dress,
blue hat and brown sandals. Standing nearby was my brother" little
Allie. All I could think was how sm and shy my mum and dad
looked, how gr,ey-haired and fragile they were, and how the
stance they were standing apart looked unnahrral. You go your
life thinking of your parents as these cnrshing proteive monsters
with infinite lx)r'er over you, and then thete's a day when you furn
round, catch them unexpectedly, and they're just weak, neryous
people trying to get by with each other.
Eva came over to me with a drink and said, 'Yes, is a happy sight,
isn'tit.'Eva and I stood there togetherand she talked about the play.
'It was about this country,' she said. 'About how callous and bereft
of grace we've become. It blew away the self-myth of tolerant,
decent England. lt made the hair on the back of rny neck stand up.
zz&

That's how I knew it was good. I ludge all art by its effect on my
neck.'

'l'm glad it did that, Eva,'

said. I could see she was in

bad state.

didn't know what to say. Anyway, Shadwell was lurking nearby,

waiting for her to finish with me. And all the time Eva's eyes

wouldn't keep still - not that they ever moved anywhere near Mum
and Dad, though that would be their natural resting place. There
they would devour. When she turned back to Shadwell he smiled at
me and started to speak. 'I am ravished but resistant because . . .' he
began. I looked at Mum and Dad once more. 'They still love each
other, can't you see that?' I said to Eva. Or perhaps I didn't say it;
perhaps I iust thought it. Sometimes you can't tell when you've said
something or just had it in your head.
I moved away, and found Terry standing at the barwith a woman
who didn't look like the rest of the scented and parang first-

nighters. Terry didn't inhoduce me to her. He didn't want to

acknowledge her. He didn't shake my hand. So she said, 'I'm

Yvonne, a friend of Matthew Pyke, and a police officer based in
North London. Sergeant Mon$r and I'- and she giggled - 'were iust
discussing police procedures.'
'Were you, Terry?' I hadn't seen Terry looking like this before, this
upset; he kept shaking his head as if he had water in his ears. He
wouldn't look at me. I was worried about him. I touched the side of
his head. 'What's wrong, Monty?'
'Don't call me that, you cunt. I'm not Monty. I am Terry and I am
disturbed. I'll tell you what it is. I wish it had been rne on that stage.
It could have been me. I deserved it, OK? But it was you. OK? So
why am I playing a fucking policeman?'
I moved away from him. He'd feel better tomorrow. But that
wasn't the end of it, 'Hey, hey" where are you going?' he said. He
was following me. 'There's something for you to do,'he said. 'Will
you do it? You said you would.'
Forcibly, he led me to one side, away.from everyone, so we
wouldn't be overheard. He held my arm. He was hurting me. My
arm was going numb. I didn't move away.
'It's now,'he said. 'We're Sving you the call.'

'Not tonight,'I said.

'Not tonight? Why not tonight? What's tonight to you? A big

deal?'

229

'All right.'
I said I'd do it if I could. I knew what he vas on about. I wasn,t
about to be a coward. I knew who to hate. He said, The party
requires funds right now. Go to two people and ask them for
I shrugged.

money.'

'How much?'I said.

'We'lI leave that to you.'

I sniggered. 'Don't be stupid.,
'lilatch your mouth,'he shouted. Just watch all that fucking lip!,
Then he laughed and looked mockingly at me. This was a differmt
Terry. 'As much as you can get.,
'So it's a test?'
'Hundreds,' he said. 'We want hundreds of pounds. Ask them.
Push them. Rip them off. stear their fumiture. They can afford it.
Get what you can. OK?'

'Yes.'
I walked away. I'd had enough. But he took my arm again, the

same arn. 'Where the fuck are you going now?,

'\hat?'I said. 'Don't bring me down.,
He was angry, but I never got antry. I dn,t care what happened.
'But how can you get the money if you don,t know the names
of
the parties involvedT
'OK. What are the names?, I asked.
He jerked me around again until I was facing the wall, I could no
longer see my parents; I could only see the walland Terry. His teeth
were clenched. 'Is class war,, he said.
'I know that.'

His voice dropped. 'Pyke is one. Eleanor is the other.,

I was astonished. 'But they're my friends.'

'Yeah, so they should be friendly.,

"ferry, no.'
'Yes, Karim.'
He furned away and looked around the crowded restaurant area.
'A nice bunch of people. Drink?,

'No.'

'Sure?'
nodded.

tr

'See you then, Karim.'

'Yeah.'

230

We separated. I walked about. I knew a lot of people but I hardly

rccognized them. Unfortunately, within a minute, I found myself
standing in front of the one person I wanted to avoid - Changez.
There would be debts to pay now. I was for it. I'd been so nervous
about this that a couple of days earlier I'd tried to stop him coming,
saying tofamila, 'I don't think Changez will enjoy this evening.' 'In

that case I must bring him,' she said, characteristically. Now

Changez embraced me and slammed me on the back. 'Very good
plays and top playing,'he said.
I looked at him suspiciously. I dn't feel at all well. I wanted to be
somewhere else. I don't know why, I felt this was some kind of snide
trick. I was or it. They were out to tet me tonight.
'Yeah, you look happy, Changez. What's brought on this

ecstasy?'

'But surely you will have guessed, my Jamila is expeing.'

looked at him blankly. 'We are having a baby.'

'Your baby?'

'You bloody fool, how could that be without sexual intercourse?

You know very well I haven't had the extent of that privilege.'
'Exaly, dear Prudence. That's what I thought.'
'So by Simon she is expecting. But we will all share in it.'
'A communal baby?'
Changez grunted his agreement. 'Belonging to the entire family of
riends. I've never been so haPPy.'
That was enough for nre, thank you very much. I would piss off,
go home. But before I could, Changez reached out his thick paw, the
good hand. And I jumped back. Here we go, he's going to smash
me, I thought, a fellow Indian in the foyer of a white theatre!
'Corne a little closer, top aor,' he said. 'And listen to my

criticism. I am glad in your,part you kept it fundamentally autobio.

graphical and didn't try the leap of inventon into my charaer. You
realized clearly that I am not a person who could be successfully
impersonated. Your word of honour is honourable after all. Good.,
I was glad to see lamila beside me; I hoped she'd change the
subiect. But who was that with her? Surely it was Simon? What had
happened to his face? One of Simon's eyes was bandaged; the cheek
below it was dressed; and half his head was wrapped in lint. famila
looked gave, even when I congrafulated her twice on the baby. She

2)!

iust eyed me steadily, as if I were some kind of criminal rapist. What

was her fucking problem, that,s what I wanted to know.

'What's your problem?,

'You weren't there,, she said.
show up.'
Where wasn't I?

,I

couldn,tbelieve it. you just didn,t

'Where?'I said.

'Do I have to remind you? At the demonskation, Karim.,

'I couldn't make it,
fammie. I was rehearsing. How was it? I hear it
was effective and everything.,
'Other people from the cast of your play were there.
Simon,s a
friend of Tracey's. She was there, right t the front.'
She looked at Simon. I looked at Simon. It was impossible
to say
what expression he had on his face, as so much of his face
was a

toner at the moment.

That's how it was. A bottle in the face. Where are you going
as

person, Karim?'

potential skeletons. In eighty years the lot of us would be dead. We

lived, having no choice, as i that were not so, as if we were not

alone, as if there would not come a moment when each of us would
see that oul lives vere over, that we were driving without brakes
towards a brick wall. Eva and Dad were still talkinp Ted and fean
weie talking; Marlene and Tracey were talkinp Changez and Simon
and Allie were talking; and none of them had much need for me

now. Out I went.

In comparison with their fetid arses and poisonous talk, the night
air was mild as milk. I opened my leather iacket and unbuttoned my
fly and let my prick feel the wind. I walked towards the shitty river
Thames, that tide of turds polluted with jerks who lived on boats

and men who liked rowing. I got into this invigorating walking
rhythm for a while, until I realized I was being followed by some
kind of little creature whom I spotted a few yards behind me,
walking calmly along with her hands in her pockets. I dn,t give a

tuck.

'Over there,'I said.

I was leaving, I was getting out, when Mum carne

up to me. She
smiled and I kissed her. ,I love you so much,, she said.

'Wasn't I good, eh, Mum?,

'You weren't in a loin-cloth as usual,, she said. ,At

least they let

you vear your own clothes. But you're not an Indian.

You,ve nlver
been to-India' You,d get arrhoea the minute you
stePPed off that

plane, I know you would.,

'Why don't you say it a bit louder,, I said. ,Aren,t
I part Inan?,
'What about me?, Mum said. ,Who gave birth
to yo-u? you,re an
Englishman, I'm glad to say.,
'I don't care,'I said. 'I'm an actor. Is a
iob.,
'Don't say that,' she said, ,Be what you are.,
'Oh yeah.'
She looked across

angrily to him. Dad I

back. He saw us and
Mum said. 'Silly old

him.'
'Go to the Ladies and blow your nose,,
'I better,' she said.

I said.

At the door I stood on a chair and overlooked the crowd of

232

I wanted to think about Eleanor, and how painful it was to see her
every day when all I wanted was to be back with her. I know I had
hoped that my indiference would revive her interest in nne, that she
missed rne and would ask me back to her place for more steamed
cabbage and a last kiss of her thighs. But in my letter I'd asked her to
keep away from me; thas exay what she was doing, and it dn,t
seern to bother her. Perhaps I would try and talk to her one last time.
My curiosity about the person behind me ras too much to bear, so
further along the river I concealed myself in a pub doorway and
iumped out, half naked, on the ceature, shouting, 'Who are you?
Why are you following me!" When I let her go she was unperturbed,

unafraid and srniling.

'I adnnired your performancen' she said as we walked along. ,you
made me laugh. I iust wanted to tell you. And you have the nicest

face. Those lips. Wow.'

'Yeah? You like me?'
Yes, and I wanted to be $rith you a few minutes. you don,t mind
me following you, do you? I could see you wanted to leave. you

looked terriied. Angry. What a state: phew. You don't want to be

alone now, do you?'
'Don't vory about anything - is good to have a friend.,
233

we walked along
Hogarth'sTomb.
as me,, said the

th

woman, whose name was Hil"ry.

'!/hat idea?'
To follow you,' she said.
I tumed, and saw Heater standing
conceal himself. I greeted him nith
stomar and flew across the air like a
applauded.
'IlVlrat d'you want, Heater! Why don,t you fuck off and
e of
cancer, you fat, ugly, pseudy cunt?,
He arliusted his position so that he stood soliy with his feet

apart. his weight evenly stributed. He was ready for me.

He

wanted to fight.

cunt! I don't like ya! An, you lot have

or. You a that Pyke.,
was calm. 'lIhy don,t we
iust run?, she

Thas a good idea,, I said. ,oK.,

'l-es go, then.'

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The theatre was full every night, and on Fridays and Saturdays, to
our pleasure, people were turned away. We were going to do extra
shows. The play was on my mind all day. How could it not be? It was
a big event to get through every evening. It was impossible to do it
and only half concentrate, as I saw one night, after finding myself
stranded on stage, looking at Eleanor, having forgotten which act of
the play we were in. I found that the best n'ay to avoid having my

day ruined by the show in the evening was to move the hours
around, getting up at thrce or four in the aftemoon so that the play

took place in the moming, as it were, and you had hours afterwards
in which to o1get it.
After the show we went out into the r staurant area, where looks
would linger on us. People pointed us out to each other. They
bought us drinks; they felt privileged to rneet us. They required us
urgently at their parties, to spice them up. We went to them, turning
up at midnight with our arms full of beer and wine. Once there we
were offered drugs. I had sex with several women; atrl that was easier
now. I got an agen., too. I was offered a small part in a television
film, playing a taxi< :iver. I had some money to ptay with. One
night Pyke came by and asked us if we wanted to take the show to
New York. There'd been an offer from a small but prestigious theahe

there. Did we rely want to go? 'Let me know i you can be

bothered,' he said casuy. 'Is up to you all.'
}ke gave us some notes after the show, and then I asked hfun if I
could visit him that weekend. He smiled and patted my arse. ,Any
time,'he said. 'Why not?'
'Sit down,' he said when I got there, .eaiy to ask him for money.

An

old woman in a pink nylon housecoat came into the room with

duster. 'Later, Mavis,'he said.

'Matthew -' I began.
'Sit down while I take a shower,'he said. 'Are you in a big hurry?,
And he went out again, leaving me alone in that room with the cunt
234

235

sculpture. As before, I wandered around. I thought maybe I would

steal something and Terry could seil it for the Party. Or it could be a
kind of trophy. I looked at vases and picked up paperweights, but I
had no idea what they wene worth. I was about to put a paperweight
in my pocket when Marlene came in, wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
Her hands and arms were spotted with paint. She was decorating.
Her flesh was sickly white now, I noticed. How had I kissed and
licked it?
'Is you,' she said. She showed little of last time's enthusiasm.
Presumably she'd gone off me. These people could go up and down.
'What are you up to?' she said. She came over to me. She brightened
then. 'Give us a kiss, Karim.' She bent forward and closed her eyes. I
kissed her lips lightly. She dn't open her eyes. Thas not a kiss.
When I'm kissed I want to stay kissed,'she said. Her tongue was in
my mouth; her mouth was moving on mine; her hands wene over

me.
'Leave him alone, for Chriss sake, can't you?' said }ke, coming
back into the room. 'Where's that sandalwood body sharnpoo I like?'
She stood up. 'How should I know? m not vain. l'm not a fucking
man. I don't use it.'

Pyke went through Marlene's bag; he went through various

drawers, pulling things out. Marlene watred him, standing with
her hands on her hips. She wted till he was at the door again before
shouting at him, 'Why are you so arrogant? Don't talk to me as if I
were some floozie actress. Why should I leave my Karim alone? you
go out with his girlfriend.'
Pyke stood there and said, 'You can fuck him. I don't care. you
know I don't care. Do exactly what you like, Marlene.'
'Fuck you,' said Marlene. 'Fuck freedom, too. Stick it up your
arse.'
'Anyway, she's not his girlfriend,' said Pyke.
'She's not his girlfriend?'Marlene tumed to me. 'Is it true?, She
turned to Pyke. '\yly'hat have you done?' Pyke said nothing. ,He,s
broken it up, has he, Karim?'
nep,' I said. I got up. Marlene
and ske looked at each other'with
hatred. I said, 'Matthew, I've just dropped by to ask you something.
It's a small thing. It won't take long. Can we deal with it now?,
'I'll leave you two boys alone, then,' said Marlene, sarcastically.
'Where's my body shampoo?' Pyke asked. ,Really, where is it?,
2)6

'Fuck off,' Marlene said, going out.

'Well, well,'said Pyke to me, relaxing.

asked him for the money. I told him what it was for. I asked him
for three hundred pounds. 'For politics?' he asked. 'For the Party, is
that it? Am I right?'
I

'Yes.'

'You?'
'Yes.'

'My, my, Karim. I must have made a mistake about you.'

I tried to be iaunty. 'Maybe you d.'

He looked at me seriously and with kindness, as if he were really

seeing me. 'I didn't mean to put you down.

wene so committed.'
'I'm not, really,' I said.

iust dn't realize you

They iust asked me to ask you.'

He fetched his cheque book. 'I bet they dn't tell you to say that.'
He picked up his pen. 'So you're their postman. You're a vulnerable
kid. Don't let them use you. Take a cheque.'
He was charming. He gave me a cheque for five hundred pounds.
I could have talked to him all day, gossiping and chatting as we used
to in his car. But once I'd got the money I left; he dn't paicularly
want me there and I didn't want to get into anything with Marlene.
When I was going out the front door she ran down the stairs and
callecl out, 'Karim, l(arim,' and I heard Pyke say to her, 'He can't get
away from you quick enough,'as I banged the door behind me.
couldt bring myself to visit Reanos flat again. So I asked her for
money one night at the theatre. I found it hard to talk to her now. It
was made more difficult because, while I put it to her, explaining
this was business not love, she busied herself with things, with the
many obies she had with her in the dressing room: books,
cassettes, make-up, photographs, cards, letters, dothes. And she
tried on a couple of hats, too, for God's sake. She d all this because
she didn't want to face me, to sit and look straight at me now. But I
also felt that she'd shut me out of her mind. I meant little to her; I
hadn't been an important failure.
Not that I liked her much, either; but I didn't want to let her go. I
didn't want to be pushed aside, dropped, discarded. Yet I had been.
There it was. There was nothing I could do. So I iust told her what I
wanted. She nodded and held up a book. 'Have you read this?' she
I

237

said. I didn't even look at it. I didn't want to get into books now. I
asked her again for some money. It would help the party; and they
would change the things that needed changing.
She said, finally, 'No, I will not give you five hundred pounds.,

'Why not?'

'I've been thinking about Gene.'

-'

I banged my hand on the table. I was getting fed up.

And a line
from Bob Dylan kept running through my head: ,Stuck Inside of
Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again'.
The Party. They need money. Thas l it is. Nothing else.
Nothing about Gene. Nothing about us.'

She insisted. 'I'm saying something. You're not listening to me.,

'You're rich, aren't you? Spread it around, darling.,
'You scomful bastard,' she said. Didn,t we have a good time, you
and I?'

les, all right. I enjoyed mysel. We went to the theatre'

boys wore solid rainbows of hai4y colour on their otherwise

tonsured skulls. The black kids had dreadlocks half-way down their
back, and walking sticks and running shoes. The girls wo trousers

which tapered to above the ankle; the boys wore black bondage
trousers with flaps and buckles and ps. The area was full of

'You're always thinking about Gene and - '

'Yes. So? Why not?'
'Forget it, Eleanor,' I said. 'I-es stick to this.'

'Gene was

and elaborated on - black, spiky, sculptural, omamental, eveningwear not work-wear- had moved on: to the Mohican. The girls and

We

screwed. And you went out with Pyke.'

She smiled at me then, and she said, This is the point. They are
not a Party for black people. They are an all-honky thing, if you want
to know. I'm not gving a bean to that kind of apartheid thing.,
'All right,'I said, getting up. Thanks anyway.,
'Karin" She looked at me. She wanted to say something kind, so
she said, 'Don't get bitter.'
On my day off I went to see Terry. He and his mates were squatting a

house in Brixton. I got off the tube and walked north, as held
inskucted me, under the rway bridge I'd passed over on the train

with Uncle Ted the time he slashed the seats; the time he said ,them
blacks'. It was the same line my father travelled on to work all those
years, with his blue ctionary in his briefcase.

shebeens, squats, lesbian bars, gay pubs, drug pubs, drug organizations, advice cenEes, and the offices of various radical political
organizations. There wasn't much work going on; people were
hanging out; they asked you i you wanted black hash, which I d,
but not fuom them.
The door of the house was open. The locks had been smashed. I
went straight up and caught Terry at it. He was wearing shorts and a

T-shir| he was barefoot, and he was working on a long padded seat

in front of a large window. He held a weighted bar behind his neck
as he stood up and sat down, stood up and sat down, and watched
rugby on a black and white TV. He looked at me in amazement. I

hunted around for somewhere to sit, an unbroken chair or

unstained cushion. It was a dirty place and Terry was a well-off
actor. Before I'd sat down he had seized me and hugged me. He
smelled good, of sweat.
'Hey, hey, is you, it really is you, just trrrning up like this. Where
you been
'Sergeant Monty,' I said.
'Where you been? Tell me. Where, IGrim?'
'Raising money for you.'
Yeah, really,' Terry said. 'I believe you.'
Didt you ask me to?'
1es, but -' He rolled his eyes.
You asked me to. You fucking ordered me. Didn't you? Are you

anywhere else in London' The hair whir Charlie had appropriated

saying you don't remember?'

'Remember? How could I fucking forget, Karim? That night.
Wow. All that money and intelligence. Those smart people. University cunts. Fucking rich cunts. Fucking rot them. It can unsettle a boy
like me.'
'Don't tell me,'I said.
He gestured with his hands and blew hard tfuough his mouth.
'But I don't feel too pleased about it.'

48

239

He went off and made some tea, but it was Typhoo and the cup
had brown stains on the outside. I put it aside and gave him llke's
cheque. He glanced at it; he looked at me. 'Bloody good work. I
thought you werie ioki^g. This is terrific. Well done, mate.'
'I only had to ask him. You know what liberals are like.'
'Yeah, they can afford it, the bastards.' He came over to me again
after putting the cheque in his jacket pocket. 'Listen, there's other
things you can do now for the Party.'
I said, 'I'm going to America with Pyke.'
'Fuck that. What for?' It was good to see Terrlr keen and eager
again. "This country's the place to be. Is on its knees. You can see
that, can't you?'

Yeah.'

' 'Course you can. Callaghan can't last. It'll be our turn.,

'America is OK.'
1eah. Great.' He punched me on the arm. 'Come on.' I felt he
wanted to touch me or something. Kiss me. He said, 'Except is a
fascist, imperialist, racist shithole.'
'Yeah?'
'It's - '
I said, 'Sometimes I feel disgusted by your ignorance. your

fucking stupid blindness to things. America. Where do you think

the gay militancy has come rom?'Not that this helped my case. I
thought a moment. He was listening, not yet sneering. The
women's movement. Black rebellion. What are you talking about,

Turry, when you talk about America? It's crap! Idiocyl Christ!,
'Don't shout at me. What am I saying? I'm saying l,ll miss you,
that's all! And I'm saying is pretty damn weird, you an, Pyke being
such big dose friends after what he's done to you. Right? Right?,
'Whas he done to me?'I said.
'You know. You were there.'
'I know? What is it? Tell ne"
'I've heard,'he said. 'Everybody talks.'
He turned away. He didn't want to say any more. Now I,d never
know what they were saying about me and Pyke and what he,d
done to me.
'Well,' I said. 'I don't care.'
'You don't care about anything,' he said. 'You're not attached to
anything, not even to the Party. You don't love. Stay here and fight.'
240

walked around the room. Ter5/s sleeping-bag was on the floor;

there was a knife beside the bed. It was time to go. I wanted to loaf
around this part of London. I wanted to ring Changez and have him
walking beside me on his Charlie Chaplin feet. Terry was pacing; I
was looking out the window trying to control mysel. People who
were only ever half right about things drove me mad. I hated the
flood of opinion, the certainty, the easy talk about Cuba and Russia
and the economy, because beneath the hard sEucture of words was
an abyss of ignorance and not-knowing; and, in a sense, of not
wanting to know. Fruitbat-)ones's lover, Chogyam-Rainbow-fones,
had a rule: he'd only talk about things he had praical experience ot
things he'd directly known. It seemed to be a good rule.
I opened my mouth to tell Terry again what a fool I thought he
was, how rigid in his way of seeing he could be, when he said, ^ou
can come and live here now that Eleanor/s chucked you out. There's
some good working-class girls in this squat. You won't go short.'
'I bet,' I said.
I went to him and put my hand between his legs. I didn't think
he'd allow himself to like it too much; I didn't think he'd let me take
his cock out, but I reckoned you should try it on with everyone you
fancied, iust in case. You never knew, they might like it, and i not,
so what? Attractive people were a provocation in themselves, I
found, when I was in this mood.
Don't touch me, Karim,'he said.
I kept on rubbing him, pushing into his crotch, gging my nails
into his balls, until I glanced up at his face. However angry I was
\ rith him, however much I wanted to humiliate Terry, I suddenly
saw such humaniy in his eyes, and in the way he tried to smile such innocence in the way he wanted to understand me, and such
possibility of pain, along with the implicit assumption that he
wouldn't be harmed - that I pulled away. I went to the other side of
the room. I sat staring at the wall. I thought about torture and
gratuitous physical pain. How could it be possible to do such things
when there'd be certain looks that would cry out to you from the
human depths, making you feel so much pity you could weep for a
I

year?
I went to him and shook his hand. He had no idea what was going

on. I said, Terry,I'll see you.'

'When?' he asked, concerned.

241

'When I come back from America.'

He came to the door with me. He said goodbye, and then he said
he was sorry. To be honest, I wouldn't have minded moving in with
him and living in Brixton, but the time for that had probably passed.
America was waiting.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

After the opening night in New York we got out of the theaft and
wee taken in taxis to an apartrrent building on Central Park South,

near the Plaza Hotel. We were on the nine-hundrcdth floor or

something, and one wall was solid glass, and there was a view over
the park and to the north of Manhattan. There rve seFyants with
silver trays, and a black man played 'As Time Goes By' on the piano.
I recognized various aors, and was told that agents and ioumalists
and publishers wene there too. Carol went from person to Person
introducing herself. Pyke stood on one sPot, iust off<entre of the
room, where, d"y and graciously, he received unsolicited praise,
and no doubt hoped to meet hairdressers from Wisconsin. Being
English provincials, and resentfully afraid of capitalist contamination, Tracey, Richard and I skulked in a comer and were neryous.
Eleanor enjoyed hersel talking to a young film producer with his
hair in a pigtail. Iooking at her now, after saying only a few words to
her for three months, I realized how little I knew her, understood
her, liked her. I'd wanted her, but not wanted her. What had I been
thinking about the time I'd been with her? I resolved to talk to he
after a few drinks.
The man who ran the theatre, Dr Bob, was a forurer academic and
ctitic, an enthusiast for the'ethnic arts'. His room in the theatrc was
full of Peruvian baskets, carved pades, African drums and paint_
ings. I knew he'd sensed I was looking into the abyss because as we
rehearsed for the opening he said, 'Don't worry, I'll fix you up with
some decent music,'as if he knew this was what I required to feel at

home.

Now he sat Tracey and I in two somewhat exposed seats at the

front of the room and hushed everyone behind us. They thought
there was going to be a speech or announcement. Suddenly tfuee

dark-skinned men ran into the room, banging some sort of wooden
hook on hand-held drums. Then a black man, wearing bright-pink
trousers and naked from the waist up, started to fling himself, his
arms outstretched, around the room. Two black women ioined him,

^,ln

241

and fluttered away with their hands. Another man in sparkly

trousers flew into the room, and the four of them did a kind of
mating dance barely a foot from Tracey and me. And Dr Bob
squatted in a comer yelling, 'Yeah' and 'Right on, as the Haitians

danced. It made me feel like

colonial watching the natives perform.

At the end there was rapturous applause and Dr Bob made us shake
hands with all of them.
I didn't see Eleanor again that evening until rnost of the guests had

'gone

and Eleanor, Richard, Caroi and I were sitting around pyke in a

bedroom. Pyke was frisky and laughing. He was in New york with a
successful show and was surrounded by admirers. lIhat more could
he want? And he was playing one of his favourite games. I could
smell the danger. But if I left the room I'd be among strangers. So I
stayed and took it, though I didn't feel up to it.
'Now,' he said, 'all of you - if you could fuck any one person in
this apartment, who would it be?' And everyone was laughing, and
looking around at each other, and iustiying their choices, and trying
to be daring and point at one another and say, ,you, you!, One
glance told Pyke how volatile I was that night, so he excluded me. I
nodded and smiled athim and said to Eleanor, ,Can we go outside to
talk for a while?'but Pyke said, Just a minute, wait a while, I,ve got
to read something.'
'Come on,'I said to Fleanor, but she held my arm. I knew what
was going to happen. Pyke was getting out his notebook now. And
he started to read out the prediions he'd written down when we
first started to rehearse, in that room by the river where we were
honest for the sake of the gouP. God, I was drunk, and I couldn,t
see why everyone was being so attentive to pyke: it was as if pyke
were reading out reviews, not of the play, but o our personalities,
clothes, beliefs - of us. Anyway, he read out stuff about Tracey and
Carol, but I lay on my back on the floor and dn,t listen; it wasn,t
interesting, anyvay. 'Now, Karim,' he said. ,You'll be riveted by
this.'
'How do you know?'
'I know.'

He started to read the stuff about me. The faces around him were
looking at me and laughing. Why did they hate me so much? What
had I done to them? Why wasn't I harder? Why d I feel so much?
'Karim is obviously looking for someone to fuck. Either a boy or a
244

girl: he doesn't mind, and that's all dght. But he'd prefer a girl,
because she will mother him. Therefore he's appraising all the
cmmpet in the group. Tracey is too spiky for him, too needy; Carol
too ambitious; and Louise not his physical type. Ill be Eleanor. He
thinks she's sweet, but she's not blown away by him. Anlrway, she's

still fucked-up over Gene, and feels responsible for his death. I'll

have a word with her, tell her to take care of Karim, maybe get her to
feed him, give him a bit of confidence. My prediction is that Eleanor
will fuck him, ill basically be a mercy fuck, but he'll fall hard for her
and she'll be too kind to tell him the truth about anything. It will end
in tears.'

I went into the other room. I wished I was in [,ondon; I iust

wanted to be away from all these people. I rang Charlie, who was
living in New York, but he wasn't there. I'd spoken to him several
times on the phone but not seen him as yet. Then Eleanor had-her
arrn round me and she was holding me' I kept saying, 'Let's go, les
go somewhere, and ve can be together.' She was looking at me
pityingly and saying, no, no, she had to tell the truth, she'd be
spending the night with Pyke, she wanted to know him as deeply as
she could. 'That won't take a whole night,' I said. I saw Pyke coming
out of the bedroom surrounded by the others, and I went to destroy
him. But I dn't get a clean punch in. There was a tangle; I tluew
myself abouU arms and legs were everywhere. But whose were
they? I was in a kenzy, kicking and scratching and screaming. I
wanted to chuck a chair through the glass window, because I
wanted to be on the street watching it come through the window in
slow motion. Then I seemed to be in a kind of box. I was staring up at
polished wood and I couldn't move. I was pinned down. Almost
certainly I was dead, thank God. I heard an American voice say,
These English are anims. Their whole orlture has fen through
the floor.'

Well, the cabs in New York City had these bullet-proof partitions to

stoP you killing the driver, and they had slidy seats, and I

vas

practically on the floor. Thank God Charlie was with me. He had his
arms around my chest and kept me from the floor. He refused to let
me stop at a topless bar. What I did see were the Haitians walking
down the street. I wound down the window, ordered the driver to
slow down and shouted at them; 'Hey, guys, where are you going?'

45

'Stop it, Karim,'Charlie said gently.

'Come on, guYs!'

America!'

yelled. ,Les go somewhere! Let,s enjoy

stadiums with his new band. He showed me the videos, but refused
to sit in the room while I watched them. I could see why. On stage he

wore black leather, silver buckles, chains and chokers, and by the
end of the performance he was barerhested, thin and white like
lagger , flinging his spidery figure like a malevolent basketball player
across stages as wide as aircraft hangars. He appealed to the people

who had the most disposable income, gays and young people,

I woke up with a blanket around me in a lovely, bright

roomn not
large, but with sofas, numeous old arnrchair',-". o|ur, fireplace,
and a kitchen through the open partition doors. on the ws were
framed posters for art exhibitions. There were books: it was a
classy
place, not the usual rock-stay's hang-out. But then, I couldnit
consider Charlie a rock-star. It didn,t seem of his essence, but a
temporary, borrowed p rsona.
I vomited three or four tirnes before going upstairs to
chariie with
coffee, and iam on toast. Ie was alone inbed. When I woke
him

especially girls, and his album, KilI For DaDa, was still in the charts,
months ater it had been released.
But the menace was tone. The ferocity was already a travesty, and
the music, of little distinion in itself, had lost its drama and attack
when transported from England with its unemployment, strikes and
class antagonism. What impressed me was that Charlie knew this.
The musis feeble, oK? I'm no Bowie, don't think I don't know
that. But I've got ideas between my ears. I can do good work in the
future, Kaim. This country gives me such optimism. People here
believe you can do stuff. Theydon'tbringyou

in England.'

down

the time, like

So now he was renting this three-floor apartment in a brownstone

on East roth Street while he wrote the songs for his next album and
leamed the saxophone. In the morning, while snooping around, I'd
noticed an empty and seParate aPatment at the top of the house. As
I stood there with my coat on, ready to wk to the theatre and sad to
leave him - he seemed so generous and charmed to be with me - I

I'd had no idea he was so famous in America. you'd furn a comer,

and there was his face tacked to some dernolition-site wall or
on an
illuminated hoarding. Charlie had done a tour of arenas and

said; 'Charlie, me and the whole cast, we're living in this big
apartnent. And I can't bear to see Eleanor every day. It breaks my
heart.'
Charlie dn't hesitate. l'd be 'appy to 'ave you'ele. Move in
tonight.'
'Great. Thanks, man.'
I walked down the street, laughing, amused that here in America
Charlie had acquired this cockney accent when my first memory of
him at school was that he'd cried after being mocked by the stinking
gypsy kids for talking so posh. Certainly, I'd never heard anyone
talk like that before. Now he was going in for cockney rhyming
slang, too. 'I'm iust off for apony,'he'd say. Pony and trap - ctap.
Or he was going to wear his winter whistle. Whistle and flute - suit.
He was selling Englishness, and getting a lot of money for it.
A few days later I moved in with him. During most of the day

246

z+7

as we intend to go on!'

charlie was around the house, giving interviews

to iournalists from

all over the world, being photographed, trying on clothes, and

reading. Sometimes there'd be young C
the place listening to Nick Lowe, Ian

Costello. I spoke to these girls only wh

their combination of beauty, experience, vacuity and cruelty har_
rowing.
But there were three or four smart serious New york women,

publishgrs, film critics, professors at Columbia, Sufis who d

whirling dances and so on, whom he listened to for hours before he
slept with them, later getting up to make ugent notes on their
conversation, which he would then repeat to other people in the
next few days. They're educating me, man,, he sai about these

besotted women

south

induce

American
mystical

":iu"i"t?
d of his

going to act in a film and then a stage play. He met prominent

people; he travelled to learn. Lie was glorious.

'Let me tell you something, Karim,' he said at breakast, which

swim in this

pool,

recently fished all

leaves with a net. I

Eva in west

Kensin

:,::li::"tljffi::

A
it
it

Time and money are the best, Charlie. But i you,re not careful
greed. Morr"y can cut the

the ll fertilize weirdness, indulgence,

248

cord between you and ordinary living. There you are, looking down
on the world, thinking you understand it, that you're iust like them,

when you've got no idea, none at all. Because at the centre of

people's lives are worries about money and how to deal with work.'
'I enjoy these conversations,' he said. 'They make me think.
Thank God, I'm not indulgent myself.'
Charlie was fit. Every day at eleven a taxi took him to Central Park,
where he ran for an hour; then he went to the gym for another hour.
For days at a time he ate only peculiar things like pulses, beanshoots and tofu, and I had to scoff hamburgers on the stoop in the
snow because, as he said, 'I won't have the animal within these
walls.' Every Thursday night his drugdealer would call by' This was
more of the civilization he'd espied in Santa Monica, Charlie figured.
Especially the way this ex-NYU film student came by with his

Pandora's Box and tfuew it oP n on top of Charlie's MOMA

catalogue. Charlie would lick a finger and point to this amount of
grass, that amount of coke, a few uppers, some downers and some
smack for us to snort.
The play dn't last long in New York, a month only, because

Eleanor had to start shooting a sml part in the big film she'd
landed. The play wasn't doing sufficient business for us to cast
another actress in Eleano/s role; and an)rway, Pyke had gone off to
San Francisco to teach.
When the others went back to London I ripped uP my ticket and
stayed in New York. There was nothing for me to do in London, and
my aimlessness would be eyeballed by *y father, who would use it
as evidence that I should have become a doctor; or, at least, that I
should visit a doctor. In New York I coukl be a walking stagnanry

without restraint.
I liked walking around the city, going to restaurants with Charlie,
doing his shopping (bought him cars and proPerty), answering the
phone and sitting around with British musicians who were passing
through. We were two English boys in America, the land where the
music came from, with Mick Jagger, Iotut Lennon and fohnny
Rotten living round the corner. This was the dream come true.
All the same, my depression and self-hatred, my desire to
mutilate myself with broken bottles, and numbness and crying fits,
my inability to get out of bed for days and days, the feeling of the
world moving in to cmsh me, lvent on and on. But I knew I wouldn't

49

go mad, even if that release, that letting-go, was a freedom

desired.

I was waiting for mysel to heal.

I began to wonder why I was so strong - what it was that held me
together. I thought it was that I'd inherited from Dad a strong
survival instinct. Dad had always felt superior to the British: this was
the legacy of his Indian childhood - political anger tuming into scorn
and contempt' For him in India the British were riculous, stiff,
unconfident, rule-bound. And he'd made me feel that we couldn't
allow ourselves the shame of fure in front of these people. You
couldn't let the ex<olonialists see you on your knees, for that was
where they expeed you to be. They were ex}rausted now; their
Empire was gone; their day was done and it was our turn. I didn't
want Dad to see me like this, because he wouldn't be able to
understand whyl'd made such a mess of things when the conditions
had been good, the time so opporhrne, for advancement.
Charlie gave me money when I needed it, and he encouraged me
to stay in New York. But after six months I told him it was time to go.
I was afraid he found me a burden, a nuisance, a parasite, though
he'd never complained. But now he was insistent and paternal.
'Karirn, you stay here with me where you belong. There's a lotta
bastards out there. You got everything yolr need, havet you?'
'Sure I have.'
'VVhas your problem, then?'
'None,' I said. 'It's just that I - '
Thas fine. Irs go shopping for dothes, oK?'
He didn't want me to leave. It was eerie, our growing dependency
on each other. He liked having me there as a witness, I suspeed.
With other people he was restrained, enigmatic, laconic; he had the

magazine virtues and wore jeans well. But he liked to tell me

had little meaning. In other words, I was a full-length mirror, but a

mirror that could remember.
My original impression that Charlie had been released by success
was wrong, too: there was much about Charlie I wasn't able to see,
because I didn't want to. Charlie liked to quote Milton's 'O dark,
dark, dark'; and Charlie was dark, miserable, ang{y. I soon learned
that fame and success in Britain and America meant different things.
In Britain it was considered vulgar to parade yourself, whereas in

America fame was an absolute value, higher than money. The

relatives of the famous were famous - yes, it was hereditary: the
children of stars were little stars too. And fame gained you goods
that mere money couldn't obtain. Fame was something that Charlie
had desired from the moment he stuck the revered facr of Brian

|ones to his bedroom w. But having obtained it, he soon found he

couldn't shut il off when he grew tired of it. He'd sit with me in a
,IAIhy are
restaurant saylng nothing for an hour, and then shout,
people staring at me when I'm trying to eat my food! That woman
with the powder puff on her head, she can fuck of!'The demands
on him were constant. The Fish ensured that Charlie remained in the
public eye by appearing on chat shows and at openings and galleries
where he had to be funny and iconoclastic. One night t tumed up
late to a party and there he was, leaning at the bar looking gloomy
and fed up, since the hostess demanded that he be photographed
with her. Charlie wasn't beginning to come to terurs with it at : he
hadn't the grace.

Two things happened that finally made me want to get back to

England and out of Charlie's life. One day when we wee coming
back from the recording studio, a man cirme uP to us in the street.

'I'm a ioumalist,' he said, with an English accent. He was about

everything in the old schoolboy way. With me, he could be dazzled,

by the people he met, the"places he was invited, the gifts that were
thrown at him. It was I, Karim, who saw him stepping into the
stretch-limo; it was I who saw him sitting in the Russian Tea Room
with movie-stars, famous writers and film producers. It was I who
saw him going upstairs with women, in debate with intellectuals,
and being photographed for Italian Vogue. And only I could
appreciate how far he'd come from his original state in Beckenham.
It was as if, without me there to celebrate it all, Charlie's progress

forty, with no breath, hair or cheeks to speak of. He stank of booze

and looked desperate. 'You know me, Tony Bell. I worked for the
Minor inLondon. I have to have an interview. I.es make a time. l'm
good, you know. I can even tell the truth.'
Charlie strode away. The journalist was wretched and shameless.
He ran alongside us, in the road.
'I won't leave you alone,'he panted' 'Is people like me who put
you name about in the first place. I even interviewed your bloody
mother.'

250

257

He grasped Charlie's arm. That was the fatal move. Charlie

chopped down on him, but the man held on. Charlie hit him with a
playground punch on the side o the head, and the man went down,
stunned, on to his knees, waving his arms like someone begging
forgiveness. Charlie hadn't exhausted his anger. He kicked the man
in the chest, and when he fell to one side and grabbed at Charlie's
legs Charlie stamped on his hand. The man lived nearby. I had to see
him at least once a week on the street, carrying his groceries with his
good hand.
The other reason for my wanting to leave New York was sexual.
Charlie liked to experiment. From the time we'd been at school,
where we'd scuss which o the menstruating dinner ladies we
wanted to perform cunnilingus on (and none of them was under
sixty), we wanted to fuck women, as many as possible. And like
people who'd been reared in a time of scarcity and rationing, neither
of us could forget the longing we'd had for sex, or the fficulty we
once had in obtaining it. So we grabbed arbiharily at re women
who offered themselves.
One moming, as we had bagels and granola and Ofs on the rocks
in a nearby caf, and talked about our crurnmy school as if it were
Eton, Charlie said there were sexual things he'd been thinking
about, sexual bents he wanted to try. 'I'm going for the ultimate
experience,'he said. 'Maybe you'd be interested in looking in too,
eh?'
'If you like.'
'If you like? I'm offering you something, man, and you say if

you like. You used to be up for anything.' He looked at me

contempfuously. 1our little brown buttocks would happily PumP

away for hours at any rancid hole, pushing aside toadstools and
fungus and -'
'I'm still up for anything.'
'Yeah, but you're miserable.'
'I don't know what I'm doing,'I said.
'Listen.'He leaned towards me and tapped the table. 'It's only by
pushing ourselves to the limits thatwe leam about ourselves. Thas
where I'm going, to the edge. Look at Kerouac and all those guys.'
'Yeah, look at them. So what, Charlie?'
'Anyway,' he said. 'I'm talking. Let me finish. We're going the
whole way. Tonight.'
252

So that night at twelve a woman named Frankie came ove. I went

down to let her in while Charlie hastily put on the Velvet Underground's fust record - it had taken us half an hour to decide on the
evening's music. Frankie had short, cropped hair, a bony white face,
and a bad tooth, and she was young, in her early trrenties, with a
soft rich voice and a sudden laugh. She wore a black shirt and black
pants. When I asked her, '\Ihat do you do?', I sounded like a drip
dry at one of Eva's Beckenham evenings so long ago. I discovered
that Frankie was a dancer, a performer, a player of the electric cello.
At one point she said, 'Bondage interests me. Pain as play. A deep
hurnan love of pain. There is desire for pain, yes?'
Apparently we would find out i there was desire for pain. I
glanced at Charlie, trying to kine some shared amusement at this,
but he sat forn'ard and nodded keenly at her. When he got up I got
uP too. Frankie took my arm. She was holding Charlis hand, too.
'Maybe you two would like to get into eat other, eh?'
I looked at Charlie, recalling the night in Beckenham I tried to kiss
him and he turned his face away. How he wanted me - he let me
touch him - but refused to adcrowledge it, as if he could rtemove
himself from the a while remainint there. Dad had seen some o
this. It was the night, too, that I saw Dad screwing Eva on the lawn,
an a which was my introduion to serious betrayal, lying, deceit
and heart-following. Tonight Charlie's face was open, warm; there
was no rejection in it, only enthusiasm. He wted or me to speak. I
never thought he would look at me like this.
We went upstairs, where Charlie had prepared the room. It was
dark, illuminated only by canes, one on ear side of the H, and
three on the bookshelves. For some reason the music was Gregorian
ranting. We'd scrrssed this for hours. He dn't want anything he
could listen to when he was being tortur,ed. Charlie renroved his

dothes. He was thinner than I'd ever seen him, muscly, taut.
Frankie put her head back and he kissed her.

stood there, and then

I deared my throat. 'Are you both sure you want me here and

everything?'
'lIhy not?' said Frankie, looking at me over her shoulder. 'lhat

d'you mean?'
'Are you sure you want spectators at this thing?'
'Is only sex,' she said. 'He's not having an operation.'
'Oh yes, OK, but -'
253

'Sit down, Karim, for God's sake,' said Charlie. 'Stop farting
about. You're not in Beckenham now.'
'I know that.'

stopped her passing the flame of the candle over his genitals. Charlie
had said to me in the afternoon, '\A/e must make sure I'm properly

hands. Then she tipp.d wax all over him - stomach, thighs, feet,
prick. This was where, had it been me with hot wax sizzbngon my
scrotum, I would have gone through the roof. Charlie obviously had
the same impulse: he struggled and rocked the bed, none of which

secured. I don't want to escap . What is it Rimbaud said? "I am

degrading myself as much as possible. It is a question of reaching the
unknown by the derangement of all the senses." Those French poets
have a lot to be responsible for. I'm going the whole way.'
And all the time, as he voyaged to the unknown, she moved over
him with her lips whispering encouatement, 'IJmmmm . . ' that
feels good. Hey, you like that, eh? Be positive, be positive. What
about this? This is delicious! And what about this, this is really
intense, Charlie, I know you're getting into it, eh?' she said as she
virtually turned his prick into a hotdog. Christ, I thought, what
would Eva say if she could see her son and myself right now?
These ponderings were intemrpted by what I could see and
Charlie couldn't. She extracted two wooden pegs from her bag, and
as she bit one nipple she trapped the other with the peg, which I
noticed had a large and pretty efficient-looking sPing on it' She
followed this u/ith a pet on the other nipple. 'Relax, relax,' she was
saying, but a little urgently I thought' as i afraid she'd gone too far.
Charlie's back was arched, and he seemed to be squealing through
his ears. But as she spoke he d relax slowly and submit to the pain,
which was, after all, exactly what he had wanted. Frankie left him
then, as he was, and went away for a few minutes to let him come to
terms with desire and sel-inlied suffuring. When she returned I
was eXamining my own thoughts. And it was at this moment, as she
blew out a candle, lubricated it and orced it up his arse, that I
rea|ized I didn't love Charlie any mo . I dn't care either for or
about him. He didn't interest me at all. I'd rnoved beyond him,
discovering myself through what I reieed. He seemed merely
foolish to me.
I got up. It surprised me to see that Charlie was not only still alive
but still hard. I ascertained this by moving around to the side of the
bed for a seat in the front stalls, where I squatted to watch her sit on
him and fuck him, indicating as she did so that I should remove the
pegs frorn his dugs as he came. I was glad to be of assistance.
What an excellent evening it was, marred only by Frankie losing
one of her contact lenses' 'fesus fucking Christ,' she said, 'is my
only pair.' So Charlie, Frankie and I had to hunt around on the floor

254

255

'Well then, can't you stop stanng there and looking so English?'
'What d'you mean, English?'
'So shocked, so self-righteous and moral, so loveless and
incapable of dancing. They are narrotv, the English. It is a Kingdom
of Prejuce over there. Don't be like it!'
'Charlie's so intense,' Frankie said.
'I'll make myself at home, then,' I said. 'Don't mind me.'
'We $ron't,' said Charlie irritably.
I settled myself into an armchair under the curtained window, the
darkest place in the room, where I hoped I'd be forgotten. Frankie
stripped to her tattoos and they caressed each other in the orthodox
way. She was skinny, Frankie, and it looked rather like going to bed

with an umbrella. But I sipped my pina colada, and even as I

sweated under the ingnity of my situation I considered how rare it

was to see another couple's copulation. How educational it could be!

What knowledge of caresses, positions, attitudes, could be gleaned
from praical example! I would recomnend it to anyone.
Frankie's hold-l was beside the bed, and from it she produced
four leather bands, whir she secrrred to Charlie's wrists and ankles.
Then she roped him to the broad, healy bed, before pressing a dark
handkerchief into his mouth. After more fumbling in the bag, out
came what looked like a dead bat. It was a leather hood with a zipper
in the fiont of it. Frankie pulld this over Charlie's head and, on her
knees, tied it at the back, pursing her lips in concentration, as i she
were sewing on a button. And now it wast Charlie: it was a body

with a sack over its head, half of its humanity tone, ready for
execution.

Frankie kissed and licked and sucked him like a lover as she sat on
him. I could see him relaxing. I could also see her reaching or a

candle and holding it over him, tilting it over his chest until the wax
fell and hit him. He jumped and grunted at this, so suddenly that I
laughed out loud. That would teach him not to stamp on people,s

on our hands and knees for half an hour. 'We've got to rip up the
loorboards,' said Frankie at last. 'Is there a wrench in the place?'
You could us my prick,' said Charlie.
He gave her money and got rid of her.

After this I decided to fly back to [,ondon. My age t had rung and
said I was up for an important audition. She'd said it was the rnost
important audition of my life, which was obviously a reason for not
attending. But it was also the only audition my agent had sent me up
or, so I thought I should reward her with an aPPearance.
I knew Charlie wouldn't want me to leave New York, and it took
me a couple of days to gather the courage to broach the subje.
When I told him, he laughed, as if I had an ulterior motive and really
wanted money or something. Immediately he asked me to work fulltirne for him. 'I've been meaning to ask you for a while,' he said.
'We'll mix business with pleasure. I'll talk to the Fish about your
salary. It'll be fat. You'll be a little brown fat<at. OK, little one?'
'I don't think so, big one. I'm going to London.'
"VVhat are you talking about? You're going to lpndon, you ffiy.
But I'm going'on a world tour. LA, Sydney, Toronto. I want you to
be the with me.'
'I want to look for work in London.'
He became angry. 'It's stupid to leave iust when thngs are
starting to happen here. You're a good friend to me. A good
assistant. You get things done.'
'Please give me the money to go. I'm asking you to help me out.
Is what I want.'
'What you want, eh?'
He walked up and down the room, and talked like a professor
conduing a seminar with sfudents he'd never met before.

anything you want in America. And what do you want? Say what
you want!'
'Charlie, I'm asking you -'
'I can hear you asking me, man! I can hear you pleading! But I
must save you.'
That was that. He sat down and said no more. The next day, when
in retaliation I said nothing, Charlie suddenly blurted out, 'OK, OK,
if it means so much to you, I'll buy you a refun ticket to London, but
you've got to promise to come back.'
I promised. He shook his head at nne. 1ou won't like it, I'm telling
you now.'

'England's decrepit. No one believes in anything. Here, is

money and success. But people are motivated. They do things.
England's a nice place if you're rich, but otlrerwise is a fucking
swamp of preiudice, class confusion, the whole thing. Nothing
works over there. And no one works -'
'Charlie -'
That's why I'm definitely not letting you go. If you can make it
here, why go anywhere else? Whas the point? You can get
256

257

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

So on Charlie's money, with a gram of coke as a leaving p*r"r,,

"r,a
his waming on my mind, I flew back to [.ondon. I was glad to be

doing it I missed my Pa nts and Eva. Though I spoke to them on

the phone, I wanted to see their faces again. I wanted to argue with
Dad. Eva had hinted that significant events were toing to take place.
'What are they?' I asked her all the time. 'I can't tell you unless
you're here,' she said, teasingly. I had no idea what she was talking
about.

On the flight to London

had a painful toothache, and on my first

day in England I arranged to go to the dentist. I walked around

Chelsea, h"ppy to be back in London, relieved to r st my eyes on
something old again. It was beautiful around Ctreyne Wk, those
little houses smothered in flowers with blue plaques on the front
wall. It was terrific as long as you dn't have to hear the voices of
the people who lived there.
As the dentist's nurse led me to the dentiss chair and I nodded at

him in greeting, he said, in a South African accent, Does he speak

English?'

Terry had predicted the last forty crises out of twenty, but the
bitter, fractured country was in turmoil: there were strikes, marches,
wage.claims. '\/e've got to seize control,'he said. The people want
strength and a new direction.' He thought there was going to be a
revolution; he eared about nothing else.
The next day I talked to the producers and casting people of the
soaP oPea I was being considered for. I had to see them in an office
they'd rented for the week in Soho. But I didn't want to talk to them,
even if I'd flown from America to do so. Pyke had taken care with his
art or craft- nothing shoddy got on stage; his whole life was tied up
with the quity of what he did. But five minutes told me that these
were trashy, iumped-up people in fluffy sweaters. They spoke as if
they were working on sornething by Sophocles. Then they asked me
to run around the office in an improvisation set in a fish and chip
shop - an argument over a piece of cod whi& led to boiling fat being
tipped over som one's arm - with a couple of hack aors who'd
already been cast. They were boring people; I'd be with them for
months if tr got the iob.
A,t last I got away. I went back to the Fish's flat, which I was
borrowing, an impersonal but comfortable place a bit like an hotel. I
was sitting there, wondering whether I should pack up my things
and move permanently to New York to work for Charlie, when the
phone rang. My agent said, 'Good news. The/ve rung to say you've
got the part.'

Thas good,'I said.

'A few words,'I said.

walked around Central London and saw that the town was being
ripped aparg the rotten was being replaced by the new, and the new
was ugly. The gft of creating beauty had been lost somewhere. The
ugliness was in the people, too. l,ondoners seemed to hate each
other.
I met Terry for a drink while he was rehearsing more episodes of
his Sergeant Monty series. He barely had time to see me, what with
picketing and demonstrating and supporting various strikes. When
we d talk it was about the state of the country.
1ou may have noticed, Karim, that England's had it. Is coming
apart. Resistance has brought it to a standstill. The Government
were defeated in the vote last night. There'll be an eleion. The
chickens are corning home to e. ts either us ot the rise of the

'Is the best,' she replied.

But it took two days for the meaning o the offer to sink in. What
was it exactly? I was being given a part in a new soap opera which

258

259

Right.'

would tangle with the latest contemporary issues: they meant

abortions and racist attacks, the stuff that people lived through but
that never Bot on TV. If I accepted the offer I'd play the rebellious

sfudent son of an Inan shopkeeper. Millions watched those

things. I would have a lot of money. I would be recognized all over
the country. My life would change overnight.
When I was certain I'd got the iob, and had accepted the part, I
decided to r;isit Dad and Eva with the news. I thought for an hour
about what to wear, and inspected myself from several angles in
four mirrors before, during and after dressing casually but not
roughly. I didn't want to look like a bank teller, but neither did I

,1

want to expose the remains of my unhappiness and depression. I

wore a black cashmere sweater, gley cords - this was lush, thick
corduroy, which hung properly and dn't cre.rse _ and black

They're taking photographs and talking to me. Why did you have to
come today of days?'

turn down lhe soap opera job and go back. When she,d shaken
hands with the other two visitors and sat them in the flat, she came
to me, arurs outstretled, and kissed and hugged me.
'Is good to see you again, Eva. You've no idea how much I
miss d you,'I said.
'lt\Ihy are you talking like this she said. 'Have you forgotten how
to talk to your own family?'
'I'm feeling a little strange, Eva.'
'AIl itht, love, l understand.'
'I know you do. Thas why I came back.'
Your dad n'ilt be pleased to s you,' she said. 'He misses you
more than any of us miss each other. Do you see? It breaks his heart
or you to be away. I tell him Charlie is taking care of you.,
Does that reassure him?'
'No. Is Charlie a heroin addi?'
'How can you ask these questions, Eva?'
Tell me on the nose.'
'No,' I said. 'Eva, what's going on? Who are these ridiculous
people?'
She lowered her voice. 'Not now. I'm being interviewed about the
flat for Furnishings magazine. I want to sell this place and move on-

She led me into the room where I used to sleep on the floor. The
photographer was unpacking his cases. I was shocked by Dad's
aPP arance as he got up to embrace me. 'Ho, boy,'he said. He
wore a thick white collar around his neck, which pressed his chins
up around his jaw. 'My neck is paining me no bloody end,' he
explained, grimacing. 'This sanitary towel takes the weight off my
brains. They push down on my spine.'
I thought of how, when I was a kid, Dad always out-ran me as we
charged across the park towards the swimming pool. When we
wrestled on the floor he always pinned me down, sitting on my
chest and making me say I'd obey him always. Now he couldn't
move without linching. I'd become the powerfrrl one; I couldn't
fight him - and I wanted to fight him - without destroying him in
one blow. It was a saddening disappointment.
In contrast, Eva looked fresh and businesslike, in a short skirt,
black stockings and flat shoes. Her hair was expensively cut and
dyed, her sc nt was lovely. There was nothing suburban about her;
she'd risen above herself to become a glorious mide-aged wonutn,
clever and graceful. Yes, I'd always loved her, and not.always as a
stepmother, either. I'd been passionate about her, lnd still was.
She took the journist on a tour of the flat, and, holding my hand,
led me around with them. Aou come and look at what we've done,'
she said to me. 'Try and admire it, Mr Cynical.'
I d admire it. The place was larger than beore. Various storerooms and much of the broad hallway had been incorporated, and
the rooms opened out. She and Ted had worked hard.
'As you can see, is very feminine in the Enish manner,' she
said to the iournalist as we looked over the cream carpets, gardenia
paintwork, wooden shutters, English country-house armchairs and
cane tables. There were baskets of dried flowers in the kitchen and
coconut matting on the floor. 'Is soft but not cluttered,' she went
on. 'Not that this is my favourite look.'
'I see,' said the journalist.
'Personally, I'd like something more fapanese.'
Japanese, eh?'

zfu

z6r

American loafers.
Outside Dad and Eva's house

couple were getting out of a taxi.

young man with spiky hair was carrying severat black cases of
photographic equipment and a latge lamp. He was accompanied by
a smart, middle-aged wornan in an expensive beige mac. To the

woman's irritation the photographer gesticuLated at rne as I walked

up the steps and rang Eva's bell. The man called out a question. ,Are
you Charlie Hero's manager?'
'His brother,' I replied.
Eva came to the door. She was confused for a moment by the three
of us arriving at onc . And she dn't recognize me at first I must
have changed, but I dn't know how. I felt older, I knew that. Eva
told me to wait in the hl a minute. So there I stood, leafing through
the mail and thinking it had been a mistake to leave America. I,d

'Which day would you have preferred?'

'Stop it,' she warned me. You're our prodigal son. Don't spoil it.'

'But I want to be able to work in a number of styles.'

'Like a good hairdresser,' said the joumalist. Eva couldn't help
herself: she gave the woman a fierce look before recomposing her
face. I laughed aloud.
The photographer rearranged the furniture and photographed

objects only in the places where they had not been initially
positioned. He photographed Eva only in poses which she found

uncomfortable and in which she looked unnatural. She pushed her

ingers back tfuough her hair a hundred times, and pouted and
opened her eyes wide as if her lids had been pinned back. And all
the while she talked to the journalist about the transformation of the
flat from its original dereliion into this example of the creative use
of space. She rnade it sound like the constmction of Notre Dame.
She didn't say she was intenng to put the flat on the market as
soon as the artide came out, using the piece as a lever to get a higher
price. When the journalist asked her, 'And what is your philosophy
of life?' Eva behaved as if this enquiry were precisely the sort of thing
she expeed to be asked in the course of scussing interior
decoration.

'My philosophy of life."

Eva glanced at Dad. Normally such a question would be an excuse
for him to speak for an hour on Taoism and its relation to Zen. But he
said nothing. He just turned his face away. Eva went and sat beside
him on the arm of the sofa, and, with a gesture both affectionate and

impersonal, she stroked his cheek. The caress was tender. She
looked at him with affeion. She always wanted to please him' She
still loves him, I thought. And I was glad he was being cared for. But
something occurred to me: did he love her? I wasn't sure. I would
observe them.

Eva was confident and proud and calm. She had plenty to say;
she'd thought things over for many years; at last ideas were
beginning to cohere in her mind. She had a world-view, though
'paradigm'would be a word she'd favour.
'Before I met this man,'she said. 'I had no courage and little faith.
I'd had cancer. One breast was removed. I rarely talk about it.' The
journalist nodded, respecting this confidence" 'But I wanted to live.
And now I have contracts in that drawer for several jobs. I am
beginning to feel I can do anything- with the aid of techniques like
meditation, self-awareness and yoga. Perhaps a little chanting to

slow the mind down. You see, I have come to believe in self-help,
individual initiative, the love of what you do, and the full development of all individuals. I am constantly disappointed by how little
we expect of ourselves and of the world.'
She looked hard at the photographer. He shifted in his seaU his
mouth opened and closed twice. He almost spoke. Was she
addressing him? Did he expe too little o himself? But she was off
again.
'We have to emPolr'e ourselves. Look at those people who live on
sordid housing estates. They expe others - the Govemment- to do
everything for them. They are only hal human, because only half
active. We have to find a way to enable them to grow. Invidual
human flourishing isn't something that either socialism or conseryatism caters for.'
The iournalist nodded at Eva. Eva smiled at her. But Eva hadn't
finished; more thoughts were occurring to her. She hadn't talked
like this before, not with this clarity. The tape was running. Jtre
photographer leaned orward and whispered in the ioumaliss ear.
'Don't forget to ask about Hero,' I heard him say.
'No comment about that,' Eva said. She wanted to go on. The
fatuity of the question didn't irritate her: she just wanted to continue
developing her theme. Her thoughts seemed to surprise her. 'I think
I -' she began.
As Eva opened her mouth, the journalist lifted herself up and
twisted her body around to Dad, cutting Eva out. 'You have been

complimented, sir. Any comment? Does this philosophy mean

much to youT

I liked seeing Eva dominate. After , Dad was often pompous, a

little household 5nant, and he'd humiliated me so frequently ae a
kid that I felt it did him good to be in this position. However, it didn't
yield me the pleasule it could have. Dad was not cnirpy today; he
wasn't even showing off. He spoke slowly, looking straight ahead at

the joumalist.
'I have lived in the West for most of my life, and I will die here, yet
I remain to all intents and purposes an Inan man. I will never be
anything but an Indian. When I was young we saw the Englishman
as a superior being.'

'Really?' said the joumalist, with a little pleasure.

'Oh, yes,'Dad said. 'And we laughed in his white face for it. But

z6J

we could see that his was a geat achievement. And this society you
have created in the West is the richest there has been in the history of
the world" There is money, yes, there are washing-up bowls. There
is domination of nature and the Third World. There is domination all
round. And the science is most advanced' You have the bombyou
need to make yourself feel safe. Yet there is something missing.'
Yes?' enquired the joumalist, with less pleasure than before.
'Please tell us what tve are missing.'

'You see, miss, there has been no deepening in culture, no

accumulation of wisdom, no increase in the way of the spirit. There
is a body and mind, you see. Definite. We know that. But there is a
soul, too.'
The photographer snorted. The journalist hushed him, but he
said, 'Whatever you mean by that.'
'Whatever I mean by that,' said Dad, his eyes sparkling with
mischief.
The joumalist looked at the photographer. She dt reproach
him; she iust wanted to get out. None of this would go into the
artide, and they were wasting their time.
'lMhas the point of even discrrssing the soul?' the photographer
said.

Dad continued. This failure, this great hole in your way of life,
defeats me' But ultimately, it will deeat you."
After this, he said no moe. Eva and l looked at him and waited,
but he'd done. The iournalist switred the cassette-player off and
put the tapes in her bag. She said, 'Eva, that manrellous chair, tell
rne - where d you get it?'

' Ias Charlie sat on it?' said the photographer. He was now

confused, and angry with Dad"

The pair of them got up to leave. 'I'm afraid is time,' said the
iournalist, and headed rapiy for the door. Before she got there it
was thrown open, and Uncle Ted, out of breath and wide-eyed in
anticipation, charged nto the room. "Where are you going?'he said
to the iournalist, who looked blankly at this hairless madman in a
demob suit with a pack of beers in his hand.
To Hampstead.'
'Hampstead?' said Ted. He iabbed at his underwater watch. 'I'm
not late, maybe a little. My wife fell down the stairs and hurt herself.'
'Is she all right?' Eva said with concern.
264

'She's in a right bad state, she really is.' Ted sat down, looked
around at all of us, nodding at me, and addressed the iournalist. His
distress possessed him; he wasn't ashamed of it. He said, 'l pity my
wife, lean.'
Ted -' Eva tried to intemrpt him.
'She deserves all our pity,' he said.
'Really?' said the joumist, smissively.
1es, yes! How do we become that way? How does it happen? one
day we're children, our faces are bright and open. We want to know
how machines work. We are in love with polarbears. The next day
we're thro$ring ourselves down the stairs, drunk and weeping. Our
lives are over. We hate life and we hate death.' He turned to the
photographer. 'Eva said you'd want to photograph us together. m
her partner. We do everything together. Don't you want to ask me
any questions about our working methods? The re quite unique.
They could be an example to others.'
'Say, we must be o,'said the tight-arsed scribbler.
'Never mind,' said Eva, touching Ted lightly on the arur.

aou'rr

a bloody fool, Ted,'said Dad, laughing at him.

'No, I'm not,'Ted sd firmly. He knew he was not a fooL no one
could convince him he was.
Unde Ted was glad to see me, and I him. We had plenty to say.

His depression had deared; he was like he was before, when I was a
kid, salty and enthusiastic. But the violence was tone, the way he
used to look at everyone the first time he met them, as if they meant
to harm him and he'd have to harm them first.
'My work, I love it, son,' he said. 'I could have talked about that to
the newspapers. I was going half mad, you remember? Eva saved
me."

'Dad saved you.'

'I want to save other people from leang untrue lives.

Dyou live

an untrue life, Creamy?'

1es,'I said.
'lAlhatever you do, don't bloody lie to yourself. Don't -'
Eva came back in and said to him, 'We must go.'
TedgesturedatDad. 'Ineed to talk, Haroon. Ineedyoutolisten to
me! YesT

'No,'said Eva. 'We've got to work. Come on.'

265

So Ted and Eva went off to discuss a job with a client in Chelsea.
'Have a pint with me later this week,' Ted said.
When the d gone Dad asked me to cook him cheese on toast. ,But
make it not too floppyi he said.
i
'Haven't you eaten, then?'
That's all it took to get him started. He said, ,Eva doesn,t look after
me now. She's too busy. I'll never get used to this new wornan
business. Sometimes I hate her. I know I shouldn,t say it. I can't bear
her near me but hate it when she's not here. I,ve never felt like this
beore. Whas happening to me?'

'Don't ask me, Dad.'

dn't n'ant to leave him but I'd agreed to visit Mum.

go,'I said.
I

,I

have to

'I-isten to iust one thing mo!e,' he said.

.IA|h4t
is it?'
'I'm leaving my job. l've given my notice. The years I,ve wasted in
that job.' He threw up his hands. 'Now I'm going to teach and think
and listen. I want to scuss how we live our lives, what our values
are, what kind of people we've become and what we can be i we
want. I aim to enco'rage people to think, to contemplate, to just let

go their obsessions. In which school is this valuable meditation

taught? I want to help others contemplate the deeper wisdom of
themselves which is often concealed in the rush of everyday life. I

want to live intensely my own Ue! Good, eh?,

'It's the best thing I've heard you say,, I said gentty.
Don't you think so?' My fathe/s enthusiasm was high. ,ll/hat
reveries I've been having recently. Mornents when the universe of
opposites is reconciled. What intuitions of a deeper tife! Don,t you
think there should be a place for free spirits like me, wise old fools
like the sophists and Zen teachers, wandering drunkenly around
discussing philosophy, psychology and how to live? We foreclose
on reality prematurely, Karim. Our minds are richer and wider than
we ever imagine! I will point these obvious things out to young
people who have lost themselves.'
'Excellent.'
'Karim, this is the meaning of my lfe.,
I put my jacket on and left him. He watched me walk down the
street; I was sure he was still talking to me as I went. I got the bus
down through south London. I was in a nervous state emotionally.

z6

At the house I found Allie getting dressed to Cole Porter songs.

'Mum's not here yet,' he said. She hadn't come home from the
health centre where she was now working as a receptionist for three
doctors.
I could see he'd become pretty znoty,little Allie. His clothes were
Italian and immaculate, daring and colourrrl without being vulgar,

and all expensive and iust righ the zips fitted, the seams were
straight, and the socks were perfect - you can always tell a quality
dresser by the socks. He dn't even look out of place sitting there on
Mum's fake leather sofa, the flowery pouf in front of him, his shoes
resting on Mum's Oxfam rug like jewels on toilet paper. Some
people know how to do things, and I was glad to see that my brother
was one of them. Allie had money, too; he was working for a dothes
designer. He and I talked like grown-ups; we had to. But we were

shy and slightly embarrassed all the same. Allie's ironic attitude
changed when I told him about the soaP oPea job. I dn't make
much of ih I talked like I was doing them a favour by being in it. Allie
iumped up and dapped his hands. Thas great! What brilliant
news. Well done, Karim!' I couldn't understand ih Allie went on and
on about it as if it meant something.
'Is not like you to be so keen,' I said suspiciously when he came
back from ringing his friends and telling them about my iob. 'Whas
gone wrong with your head, Allie? Are you putting me on?'
'No, no, honest. That last play you d, with Pyke direing, it was
good, even entertaining once or twice.'
1eah?'

He paused, perhaps earing t}rat his praise had been too warur' tt
was goo{ - but hippie.'
'Hippie? What was hippie about it?'
'It was idgalistis. The politics got on my nerves. We all hate
whingeng lefties, don't we?'
'Do we? What for?"
'Oh yeah. Their clothes look like rags. And I hate people who go
on all the time about being black, and how persecuted they were at
school, and how someone sPat at tlrem once. You know: sel-pity.'
'Shouldn't they - I mean, we - talk about it, Allie?'
Talk about it? God, no.' Clearly he was on to a subiect he liked,
'They should shut up and get on with their lives. At least the blacks
have a history of slavery. The Indians were kicked out of Uganda.
z&7

There was reason for bitterness. But no one put people like you and
me in camps, and no one will. We can't be lumped in with them,
thank God. We should be just as grateful we haven't got white skin
either. I don't like the look of white skin, it - '
t
'Allie, I visited a dentist the other day who -'
'Creamy, les put your teeth aside for a minute and _ '

'Allie

-'

'Let me say that we come from privilege. We can't pretend we're

some kind of shittedon oppressed people. Irs iust make the best
of ourselves.' He looked at me like a Sunday school teacher telling
you not to let yourself down. I liked him now; I wanted to know him;
but the things he was sayng we strante. 'So congratulations, big
brother. A soap oPera, thas somethint to cro$' about. Television"s
the only medium I like"'
I saewed up my face.
'Karim, I hate the theatre even more than I hate oP ra. Is so - '
He searched for the wrong word. 'So make.believe. But listen,
' Creamy, there's something you should know about Mum.'
I looked at him as if he were going to say she had cancer or
something. 'Since their vorce came through she's been seeing a
man. limmy. ls been going on for four months or so. Is a big
shock, OK I know that. But we just have to accept it and not take the
piss, if thas possible.'

'Allie -'
He sat there all cool. 'Elon't ask me a lot of bloody questions,
Karim. I can't tell you about him because I haven't met him and I'm
not allowed to.'
'l/hy not?'-

'And nor al you, oK? He's seen pictures of us aged ten or

something, but no older. Jimmy doesn't know Mum's exa age. She
thinks he'd be shocked and put off to discover she had sons as old as
us' So we have to keep a P tty absent profile.'

'Christ, Allie.'

'There you ane.'

I sighed. 'Good for her. She desenres

]imm

it.'

OK. He's respectable, he's employed, he doesn't put his

prick around.' Then this admiring look came over him again, and he
shook his head and whistled. 'A soap oP ra, eh? Thas dass.'

26

'You know,' I said. 'After Mum and Dad broke up, everything
went crazy. I didn't know where I was.'
He was looking at me. I felt guilty that d never discrrssed his
feelings about this. 'Don't talk about it now,'he said. 'I can't take it
either. I know too well what you mean.'
He smiled reassuringly.

'All right,'I said.

Then he leaned towards me and said venomously, 'I don't see

Dad. When I miss him I speak to him on the phone. I don't have
much time for people who run away from their wife and kids. I don't
blame you for going vith him - you were yount. But Dad was
selfish. And what about him giving up his iob? Don't you think he's
insane? He'll have no money. Eva will have to support him.
Therefore Eva will have to support Mum. lsn't that grotesque? And
Mum hates her. We'll be parasites on her!'
'Allie -'
'\Ahat will he be doing St Francis of Assisi, discussing lfe, death
and marriage _ on whir he's a world exPert - with idiots who'll
think he's a pompous old bore? God, Karim, what happens to

people when they start to get oldT

Don't you understand anything?'
'Understand what?'
'Oh, Allie, how stupid can you be? Don't you see the way things
happen?'
He looked hurt and deflated then: it wast dificult to do that to
him, he was so unsune of himself. I couldn't think how to apologize
and return to our forurer understanding.
He muurured, But I've not looked at it from another point of

view.'

lust then I heard a key in the door. A new sound, yet it was a noise
d heard every day for years when Mum came home ftom the shop
to tet our tea. It was her now. I went out and hugged her. She was

pleased to see me, but not that pleased, once she'd ascertained that I
hadn't been killed, and had a iob. She was in a hurry. 'A friend's
coming round later,' she said without a blush, as Allie and I winked

at ear other. While she showerd and dressed, we dusted and

vacrrumed the front room' 'Better do the stais, too,' Allie said.
Mum spent ages preparing herself, and Allie told her what
iewellery to wear, and the right shoes and everything. This was a
269

woman vho never used to have more than one bath a week. When
we first moved into the house, in the late-r95os, there wasn't even a
bathroom. Dad used to sit with his knees up in a tin tub in the front
room, and Allie and I ran to and fro with jugs of water heated on the
stove.

Now Allie and I hung around the house as long as possible to

torment Mum with the idea that |immy might turn up and see that
we wene both about forty years old. She was safng, 'Haven't you
two lads got anywhere to go?' when the front door bell rang. Poor
Mum froze. I never thought she'd go as far as this, but she said, 'lou
two go out the back door.'She almost shoved us out into the garden
and locked the door behind us. Allie and I hung around giggling and
throwing a tennis ball at each other. Then we went round to the
front of the house and peeped through the black outlined squares of
the'Georgian' windows she'd had installed, making the front of the
house resemble a crossword puzzle.
And there was fimmy, our fathes replacement, sitting on the
sofa with Mum. He was a pale man and an Englishman. This was a
surprise: somehow I'd expected an Inan to be sitting with her. and
when there wasn't I felt disappointed in her, as if she'd let us down.
She must have had enough of Inans. limmy was in his late thirties,

earnest, and dressed plainly in a grey suit. He was lower middle

cliass like us, but handsome and clever-looking: the sort who'd know
the names of all the aors in Vincent Minnelli films, and would go
on television quizzes to prove it" Mum was opening a present he'd
brought when she looked up and sawher two sons peering tfuough
the net curtains at her. She blushed and panicked, but in seconds
she collected her dignity and ignored us. We slunk off.
I didn't want to go home right avay, so Allie took rne to a new dub
in Covent Garden designed by a friend of his. How London had
moved on in ten months. No hippies or punks: instead, everyone
was smartly dressed, and the men had short hair, white shirts and
.b"ggy trousers held up by braces. It was like being in a roorn full of
George Orwell lookalikes, except that Orwell would have eschewed
earrings. Allie told me they were fashion designers, photographers,

graphic artists, shop designers and so on, yount and talented.

Allie's girlfriend was a model, a thin black girl who said nothing
except that being in a soap opera could only lead to better things. I
270

looked around for someone to pick up, but was so lonely I knew
they'd smell it on me. I wasn't infferent enough for seduction.
I said goodbye to Allie and went back to the Fish's. I sat there in
his cavernous lat or a while; I walked around; I listened to a
Cap ain Beefheart track, 'Dropout Boogi, until it drove me mad; I
sat down again; and then I went out.
I

drifted around the late streets for an hour, until I got lost and hailed

a cab. I told the driver to take me to South London, but first,

hurrying now, l got him to drive me back to the flat. He wted while
I went in and searched the Fish's place for a gift for Changez and
famila. I would make up with them. I did love them; I would show
them how much by gf"i"g them a huge tablecloth belonging to the
Fish. On the way I stopped off to get an Indian take-away to extraappease them, in case they were still cross with me about anything.

We drove past Princess leeta's shop, whir at night was grilled,

barred and shuttered. I thought of her lying upstairs asleep. Thank

God I have an interesting life, I said to myself.
At the cornmune I rang the bell, and after five minutes Changez
came to the door. Behind him the place u/as silent, and there was no
sign of naked political discussion. Changez held a baby in his arurs.
'Is one'thirty in the momin$, yaar,' was what he said in greeting,
after all this time. He turned back into the house, and I followed
him, feeling like a dog about to be kicked. tn the shabby living room,
with its filing cabinets and old sofa, I saw to my relief that Changez
was unchanged, and I wouldn't have to ake any shit ftom him. He
hadn't become bourgeois and self-rcspecting. There was jam on his

nose, he wore the bulgp"S boiler suit wittr books poking from
numerous pockets, and, I suspected, looking at him dosely, he was
developing full female breasts. 'Here's a pr sent,' I said, offering the
tablecloth. 'All the way from America.'
'Shhh . . . "he replied, indicating the baby buried in blankets.
This is the daughter of the house, Leila Kollontai, and she's asleep
at last. Our baby. Top naughty.'He sniffed the air. 'ls take-away in
the offing?'
'Absolutely.'
'Dal and all? Kebabs?'
'Yeah.'

Trom the top curry house on the corner?'

277

'Exaly.'
'But they become cold dramatically. Open, open!'
'Wait.'
I flapped the tablecloth and started to remove various papers,
dirty plates and a head of Lenin from the table. But Changez v&as
eager to get at the food, and insisted we fling the Fish's tablecloth on

top of everything else. 'Hungry, eh?' I said, as he sat down and

plucked the slithery leaking cartons from the bag.

'I'm on bloody dole, Karim. Full-time I am eating potatoes. If I'm

not dodgy they'll find me a iob. How can I work and look after Leila

Kollontai?'

'Where is everyone else?'

'Mr Simon the father is away in America. He's been long gone,
lecturing on the history of the future. He's a big man, ycar, though
you didn't appreciate.'
'And famila?' I said hesitantly. 'I've missed her.'
'She's here, intact and all, upstairs. But she won't be h"ppy to talk
to you, no, no, no, no. She'll be happy to barbecue your balls and eat
them with peas. Are you remaining long?'
'Bubble, you fat fucker, what are you talking about? Is me,
Creamy feans, your only friend, and I've come all the way to the
svamP of South London to see you"
He shook his head, handed me Leila Kollontai, who had a plump
face and olive skin, and ripped the lids fiom the cartons. He started
to Press lumps of spinar into his mouth with his fingers, after
sprinkling red chiui powder over it. Changez dn't like any food he
could taste.
I said, airily, 've been in America, putting on political theatre.'I
went into what I'd been doing, and boasted about the parties I'd
been to, the people I'd met and the magazines I'd been interviewed
for. He ignored me and filled his bulg'ng ace. As I went on, he said
suddenly, aou're in bloody shit, Karim. And what are you going to
do about it? fammie won't forgive you for not putting your face in it
at the demonstration. Thas the thing you should be worried about,

'We are all progressing. There is another woman coming in close

here.'
'Where?'
'No, no. famila's friend, you fool.'
Jamila's got a woman friend? Am I hearing you right?' I said.
'Loud and clear. fammie loves two people, thas all' It's simple to
grasp. She loves Simon, but he's not here. She loves foanna; and
|oanna is here. She has told me.'
I stared at him in wonderment. How could he have had any idea,
when he kicked off from Bombay, of the convoluted involvements
ahead of him? 'How d'you feel about this?'
'Eh?' He was uncomoable.It was as if he wanted no more said;
the subiect was closed. This was how he squared thingp in his mind,
and it was good enough for him. 'Me? Precisely what questions are
you asking?' And he could have added, 'If you insist on asking such
questions.'
I said,'I am asking how you, Changez, you with your background
of preiuce against practically the whole world, are coping with
being married to a lesbian.'
The question shook him more than I had the sense to see it would.
He fought or words. At last he said, from beneath his eyebrows,

'I'm not, am I?'

Now I was confused. 'I don't bloody know,'I said. 'I thought you
said they loved each other.'
Yes, love! I am for love,' he declared. 'All in this house are
trnng to love each other!'

'Good.'
'Aen't you for love?' he asked,
this common ground.

as if wishing firmly to establish

Yes.'

'So, then?' he said. 'Whatever famiLa does is all right by me. I am

not a brrant fascist, as you know. I have no preiudice except against
Pakistanis, which is normal. So what is your point, IGrim? What are

must be pleased, eh, now Simon's away and you've got famila to
yourself full-time. Any progress?'

you labouring to -'

fust then the door opened and famila came in. She looked thinner
and older, her cheeks were slightly hollow and her eyes more lined,
but there was something quicker, lighter and less serious in her now;
she seemed to laugh more easily. She sang a reggae song and
danced a few steps towards LeiLa and back. famila was accompanied

272

273

ywr''
I was stung. We fell silent. Changez seemed uninterested in
anything I had to say. I was forced to ask him about hirnself. 'you

by a woman who looked nineteen but I guessed was older, in her

late twenties. She had a fresh, open face, with good skin. Her short
hair was streaked with blue, and she ',vore a red and black
workman's shirt and jeans. As famila pirouetted the woman

laughed and clapped her hands. She was introduced to e as

loanna, and she smiled at me and then stared, making me wonder

what I'd done.
'Hallo, Karim,'famila said, and moved away as I rose to hold her.
She took Leila Kollontai and asked if the baby had been all right. She
kissed and rocked her. As lammie and Changez talked I became
aware of a new tone between them. I listened carefully. What was it?
It was gentle respe; they were speaking to each other without
condescension or suspicion, as equals. How things had changed!
Meanwhile, foanna was sarying to me, 'Haven't I seen you before?'
'I don't think we've met.'
'No, you're right. But I'm sure we've seen each other somewhere.'
hrzzled, she continued to look at me.
'He's a big famous actor,'|amila put in. 'Aen't you, dear?'
foanna punched the air. Thas it. I saw the play you were in. I
loved it, too. You r^'e g at in it. Really fu'-y.' She furned to
Changez. 1ou liked it too, didn't you? t remember you persuaded
me to go and see it. You said it was accurate.'
'No, I don't think I liked it as much as I said,' Changez murmured.
'What I remember of it has left little permanent trace in my memory.

It was white people's thing, wasn't it, )ammie?n And Changez

looked at lamila as i for approval, but she was breast-feeding the
kid.
Forfunately, foanna wast put off by that at bastard, Changez. 'I

admired your performance,' she said.

'\Ihat do you do?'
'I'm a film-maker,' she said. lamila and I are making a documentary together.' Then she turned to Changez. '\A/e should crash,
fammie and I', she said. '\Iouldn't it be great i thee was grapefruit
and toast for breakfast again.'
'Oh yes,' said Changez, with an ebullient face but darting,
worried eyes. Don't you worry, there will be, for you and famila at
nine on the dot.'

Thank you.'

loanna kissed Changez then. When she'd turned away, he wiped

274

his cheek. |amila gave Leila Kollontai to Changez and, ofering

foanna her hand, she went off. I watched them go before turnint to
Changez. He wouldn't look at me now. He was anry; he waa
staring and shaking his head.
'What's the matter?'I said.
'You make me think about too many things.'
'Sorqy.'

'Go upstairs and sleep in the room at the end of the hall. I must
change Leila. She has mucked herself.'
I felt too tired to walk upstairs, so when Changez went out I lay
down behind t e sofa, prrlling a blanket over me. The floor was
hard; tr couldn't sleep. The world was swaying about like a hammock
with my body on it. I counted my breaths and became aware of the
rise and fall of rny stomach, the hiss of my breath in my nostrils, my
forehead relaxing. But, as in many of my metation attempts, I was

o sex and other things. How stolidly contented

Changez seemed at last. There was no vacillation in his love; it was
true, it was absolute, he knew what he felt. And lamila seemed
content to be loved in this way. She could do what she wanted and
Changez would always put her firsg he loved her more than he
loved himsel.
I awoke cold and cramped, not sure where I was. Instead of
getting up I stayed on the floor. I could hear voices. It was Changez
and lamila" who'd obviously come back into the room and had been
talking for a while as farnila tried to put Leila to sleep. They had
plenty to say to each other, as they discussed Leila's wind, the
house, the date of Simon's return - and where he'd sleep - and
Joanna's documentary.
I went back to sleep. When I woke up again Jamila was getting
ready for bed. 'I'm going up,' she said. 'Get some sleep yourself,
sweetie. Oh, and Leila is out of nappies.'
'Yes, the little naughty has made her clothes all filthy, too. I'll
wash them first thing tomorrow at the laundrette.'
'And mine? There's just a few things. And foanna's leggings?
Could you -'
'Leave me in complete control. Colonel Changez.'
"Ihank you,'|amila said. 'Colonel Changez.'
soon thinking

'Main thing is, I'm mighty bloody glad you're eating well,'
Changez said. His voice was high and shained; he was talking
275

quickly, as i he thought the moment he shut his mouth she'd go

away. 'I'm giving you only healthy food from now on. famila, think:
there will be top grapefruit and special warm bread for breakast.
Top fresh sardines for lunch with fresh bread, followed by pearg and
soft reese

'

He bored her, he knew he bored her, but he couldt stop. She

tried to intemrpt. 'Clrangez, I -'
'Auntie feeta is selling good food now, since I converted her to
new lines.' His voice rose. 'She is old-fashioned, but I am saying
follow the latest trends which I am discove.ing it magazines. She is
becoming enthusiastic with my guidance. She walks naughty kila
in the park while I olganize shop!' He was almost yelling. 'l am

installing mirrors for the detection of criminals!'

'Excellent, Changez. Please don't shout. My father would be
proud of you. You't -'
There was movement. l heard |amila say, 'What ie you doing?'
'My heart is beating,'he said. 'I will kiss you goodnight.'

'oK.'

There was a sucking noise, followed by a complacent, 'Goodnight, Changez. Thanls for looking after Lrila today.'
'Kiss me,Iamila. Kiss my lips.'
'Um. Changez - ' Thert were physical sounds. I could eel his
bulk in the room. It was like'listening to a radio play. Was he
grabbing her? Was she fighting him of.l Should l intervene?
Thanks, Changez, thas enough kissing. Haven't you been ser_
viced by Shinko latelyT
Changez was panting. I could imagine his tongue hanging oug
the exertion of assault was too much for him.
'Karim stirred me up, Iammie. I've got to explain this to you. That
little devil bugger - '
'\hashe been saying?'|amila asked with a laugh. 'He's got
problems, we all know that. But he's a sweet boy, too, isn't he, his
little hands pawing things, his eyebrows fluttering about - '
'He's got tremendous person problems, as you say quite rightly.
I am beginning to think he is totally pewerted too, the way he likes
to squeeze my body. I explain to him, what am I, an orange? I say - '
'Changez, is late and -'
'Yes, yes, but Karim for once was saying something with mean-

ing.'

276

'Really?'

Changez was desperate to say this, but he paused for a few

seconds and held his breath, unsure whether he was making a
mistake o not. |amila waited for him.
'He said yore a female lesbian type and all. famila, I couldn't
believe my hearing. Rubbish, you bastard, I told him. I was ready to
blow him off the earth. Thas not my wife, is it?'
tamila sighed. 'I dn't want to have this conversation now.'
"That's not what you can be doing with foanna, is it?'
'It's true at the moment thatfoanna and I are very dose - very fond
of each other.'

'Fond?'
'I can't think that I've liked anyone as much for a long time. I'm
sure you know how it is - you meet someone and you want to be
with them, you want to know them deeply. Is passion, I suppose,
and it's wonderful. Thas how I feel, Changez. I'm sorry if it - '

He shouted, lAlhas vTon8 with your only husband here and

available that you are tuming to perversion? Am I the one single
normal Person let in England now?'
'Don't start. Please, I'm so tired. I'm so happy at last. Try and
accept it, Bubble.'

'And all you here in this house, you good types, talk of the

preiudice against this Yid and that black burylar bastard, this Paki
and that poor woman.'
'Changez, this is offensive, this is -'
'But what about ugly bastards? What about us? What about our
rights to be kissedl
You are kissed, Changez.'
'After the exchange of pounds sterling only!'
'Please, let's go to bed. There are plenty of people who will kiss
you. But not me, I'm afraid. Not me. You were imposed on me by
my father.'
'Yes, I am not wanted.'
'But you're not ugly inside, Changez, if you want that patronizing
assurance.'
He was only half listening; and he was far from exhausted.
1es, inside I look like Shashi Kapoor, I know that for sure,' he
said, beating his hand on his knee. 'But some people are really ugly
pig-faces, and they have a terrible time and all. I'm beginning a

national campaign to stop this prejudice. But it should start stopping

with you, her,e in this damn house of the holy socialists!'
There was more noise, but more sartorial than physical this time.
'Look' he said. 'Look, look, aren't I a man at leastT
'Oh, cover it up. I'm not saying it isn't exquisite. God, Changez,
some of your attitudes to women are antique. You've got to sort
yoursel out. The world is moving on.'
Touch it. Give yourself a holiday.'
She snorted. 'If I need a holiday I'll go to Cuba.'
Touch it, touch it, or - '
'Let me wam you,' she said. And not once d she raise her voice
or show any sigl of fear. There was irony, o course, as ways with
famila, but complete contrrol, too. 'Anyone can be rennoved from this
house by a democtatic vote. Where would you to then, Bombay?"
]amiLa, wife, take me in,'he moaned.
'Irs dear the table and take it into the kitchen,' she said softly.
'Come on, Colonel Changez. You need rest.'
lamiLa, I beg you -'
'And I wouldn't let foanna catch you waving that mushroom
about. As it is, she suspects men of being rapists, and seeing you
doing that she'd know it was tme.'
'I want love. Help m - '
famila continued in her detached way' 'I foanna saw you doing
this - '
,\AIhy
should she see? For a change is iust you and me together
for a few precious moments. I never see my own wie one.'
I was shifting about uncomortably. This voyeur stuf was tetting
to be too much for me. In the past I'd been h"ppy to look in on
others' love-making. I'd virhrally watched it more than I'd done it;
l'd found it educational, it showed solidarity with friends, and so on.
But now, as I lay there behind the sofa, I knew my mind required
more fodder - bigger ideas, new interests. Eva was right; we dn't
demand enough of ourselves and of life. I would demand; I would
get up and demand. I was about to declare myself when famila
suddenly said, 'What was that noise?'
'What?'
She lowered her voice. 'It sounded like a fart coming from behind
the soa.'

'A

arr?'

z/8

up and looked over the top of the sofa. 'It's only me,' I said. 'l
was trying to sleep. I didn't hear a tl
^g.'
even more agitated.
You bastard,' said Changez, becoming
Jamila, I am calling the police on this damn snooper! l.et me dialg4p
I sat

immediately!'
He was trembling and puffing and spitting even as he secured his
trousers. He shouted, You have always mocked my love forfamila.
You have always wanted to stand between us.'
In fact, it was famila who stood between Changez and me to stop
him attacking me. She escorted me upstais to a room where I could
lock the door, safe from Changez's anger. In the morning I got up
early and tiptoed through the sleeping house to the front door. On
my way there I heard Leila Kollontai start to cry, and then I heard
Changez talking softly to her in Urdu.

A few days later I went to see Dad again. There he was, sitting in one
of Eva's armchairs in his pyjamas, with a pallid young man on the
floor in front of him. The man was intense, weepy, despairing. Dad
was saying: Yes, yes, this whole business of living is very difficult.'
Apparently these kids from Dad's classes were always tuming up
at the flat, and he had to deal with them. This he considered to be
'compassionate aivity'. He was now saying that, for the sake of
'harmony', each day of your life had to contain three elements:
scholarship, compassionate aivity and meditation. Dad wag teach_
ing this several times a week at a nearby Yoga Centre. I'd always

imagined that Dad's guru business would eventually fall off in

London, but it was clear now that he would never lack employment
while the city was full of lonely, unhappy, unconfident people who
required guidance, support and pity.
Eva took me into the kitchen to show me some soup-bowls. She'd
also bought a Titian print of a young man with long hair who looked
like Charlie when he was at school. Long-stemmed tulips and
daffodils sat in iugs on the table. 'I'm so happy,' Eva told me as she
showed me things. 'But I'm in a hurry. They've got to do something
about death. Is ridiculous to die so yount. I want to live to be one
hundred and fifty. It's only now that I'm getting anywhere.'
Later, I sat down with Dad. His flesh was heavy, marked, and
fattlr now, the upper half of his face composed of flaccid pouches
279

I
sewn together in a sort of tier under the eyes' unolding one by one
like an Italian terrace down his cheeks.
'You've told me nothing of what's happening in your life,' he said.
I wanted to stagger him with my stxlp opera news. But when I want
to stagger people I usually can'! staggered is the last thing they are.
'I'm in a soap opera,' I said, in Changez's voice. Top pay. Top iob.
Top person.'
'Don't always laugh in my face like an iot,' Dad said.
'But I'm not. I wasn't.'
'You're still a liar too, I see.'
'Dad -'
'At least you're doing something visible at last and notbumming,'
he said.

I flushed with anger and humiliation. No, no, no, I wanted to

shout. We're misunderstanding each other agn! But it was imposs_
ible to darify. Maybe you never stop feeling like an eight-year-old in
front of your parents. You resolve to be your mature self, to react in

this considered way rather than that elemental way, to breathe

tr|as no Beethoven. But he r/as youn8 and he cared for her. Dad

couldn't believe it was so sirnple; none of it satisfied him. He said.

'D'you think - of course, you don't know this, how could you, it's

none of your business, is none of mine, but you mi6ht have

guessed, or heard it from Allie or from her, especially with your
great big nose poking into other people's businesses non-stop

you think he's kissing her?'

- do

Yes.'
'Are you sure?'
'oh yeah, I'm sure of it. And he's injeed her with new life, he

really has. It's terrific, eh?'

This practically assassinated him there and then" 'Nothing will
ever be the same again,' he said.
'How could it be?'
1ou don't know what you're talking abotrt,' he said, and he
turned his face away. Then he saw Eva. He was afraid of her, I could
see.

'My love,'he said.

'What are you doing, Haroon?' she said angrily. 'How can you
even think like this?'
'I'm not thinking fike it,' Dad said.
'Stupid, it's stupid to regret anything.'

evenly from the bottom of your stomat and to see your parents as
equals, but within five minutes your intentions are blown to hell,
and you're babbling and screaming in rage like an angry rild.
I could barely speak, until Dad asked me the question which was
so fficult for him and yet was tlre only thing in the world he
wanted to know.
'Hors your mum?' he said.
I told him she was well, better than I'd seen her for years, goodternpered and aive and optimistic and . 'Good God,'he said
quickly. 'How can that possibly be? She was always the world's
sweetest but most miserable woman.'
les, but she's seeing someone - a man - now.'
'A man? What kind of a man? Are you sure?'
He couldn't stoP asking questions. 1AIho is he? Whas he like?
How old is he? What does he do?"
I chose my words carefully. I had to, since I'd noticed that Eva was
behind Dad, in the doorway. She stood there casually, as if we were
scussing our favourite films. She hadn't the taste to furn away. She
wanted to know exactly what was going on. She dn't want any
secrets within her domain.
Mum's boyfriend was not remarkable, I said to Dad. At least, he

That evening I said I'd take Dad, Eva, Allie and his girlfriend out to
dinner to celebrate my new fob and Dad giving up his. 'What a good
idea,'said Eva. 'Maybe I'll make an announcement, too.'
I rang famrnie at the commune and invited her and Changez to
join us. Changez took the phone from her and said he'd come out if
he could but wasn't sure about farnila, because of naughty Leita.

28o

z8r

'I don't"'

'Yes, you do, you see. And you won't even acknowledge it.'
'Please, Eva, not now.'
He sat there trying not to mind her, but the resentment was going
deep. All the same, I was surprised by him. Was it only now, after all
this time" that he realized the decision to leave our mother was
irrevocable? Perhaps only now could he believe it wasn't a joke or
game or experinnent, that Mum wasn't waiting at home for him with
curryr and chapatis in the oven and the electric blanket on.

at the polling booths all day, working

for the Labour Party at the election.
We got dressed up, and Eva persuaded Dad into his Nehru iacket,
collarless and buttoned up to the tfuoat like a Beatle iacket, only
longer. The waiters would think he was an ambassador or a prince,
or something. She was so proud of him, too, and kept picking stray
hairs off his trousers, and the more bad-tempered he looked,
because of everything being vrrong, the more she kissed him. We
took a taxi to the most expensive place I knew, in Soho. I paid for
everything with the money I'd got by trading in the ticket to New

And anyway, they'd been out

York.

The restaurant was on three floors, with duck-egg blue walls, a

piano and a blond boy i^ evening dress ptaying it. The people were
dazzhng; they were ricfu they were loud. Eva, to her pleasure, knew
four people there, and a mide-aged queen with a red face and pot_
belly said, 'Here's my address, Eva. Come to dinner on Sunday and
see my four Labradors. Have you heard of so'and-so?' he added,
mentioning a famous film director. 'He'll be there. And he's looking
for someone to do up his place in France.'
Eva talked to him about her work and the job she was currently
doing, designing and decoratint a country house. She and Ted
would have to stay in a cottage in the grounds for a while" It was the
biggest thing they'd been asked to do. She was going to employ
several people to help her, but they would only be self-aware types,
she said. 'Self-aware but not self-conscious, I hope,' said the queen.

brayed his loud opinions on the arrangement of items in a chop - the

exact location of sweets in relation to bread - even as she praiced hlm
to others.
He ate massively, ol' Changez, and I encouraged him to have two
helpings of coconut ice.cream, which he ate as if it were about to be
taken frorn him. 'Have anything you like,' I said to all of them.
'D'you want dessert, d'you want coffee?' I began to enjoy my own
generosity; I felt the pleasure of pleasing others, especially as this

$'as accompanied by money-power. I was payrng for them; they

were grateful, they had to be; and they couid no longer see me as a

failure. I wanted to do more of this' It was as i I'd suddenly

discovered something

was good at, and I wanted to praise it non_

stop.

When everyone was there, and nicely drunk and laughing, Eva
stood up and knocked on the table. She was smiling and caressing
the back of Dad's head as she strained to be heard. She said, 'Can I
have some quiet. Some quiet, please, for a few minutes. Everyone please!'
There was quiet. Everyone looked at her. Dad beamed around the
table.
There's an announcement I must make,' she said.
'For God's sake make it, then,'Dad said.
'I can't,' she said. She bent to his ear. 'ls it still trr.e?' she

whispered.

To my relief, at midnight Changez turned up in his boiler suit,

along with Shinko. Changez embraced Dad and me and Allie, and
showed us photographs of Leila. She couldn't have had a more
indulgent uncle than Changez. 'If only you'd brought famila,' I saidShinko was very attentive to Changez. She spoke of his care for Leila
and his work on Princess feeta's shop, while he ignored her and

'Say it,'he said, ignoring the question. 'Eva, everyone's waiting.'

She stood up, put her hands together and was about to speak
when she turned to Dad once more. 'I can't, Haroon.'
'Say it, say it,' we said.
'All right. Pull yourself together, Eva. We are getting married.
Yes, we're getting married. We met, fell in love, and now we're
getting manied. In two months' time. OK? You're all invited.'
She sat down abruptly, and Dad put his arm around her. She was
speaking to him, but by non''fll'were roaring our approval and
banging the table and pouring rrOie drints. I raised a toast to them,
and everyone cheered and cipped. It vrias a great, unsullied event.
After this there were hours
and drinking and so
many people around our table I
t have to talk much. I could
think about the past and what I'd been through as I'd struggled to

zBz

283

Inevitably, little Allie knew some other people there, three

models, and they cane over to our table. We had a small pa'rty, and
by the end of it everyone in the place seemed to have been told I was
going to be on television, and who was going to be the next Prime
Minister. It was the latter that made them especially ecstatic. It was
good to see Dad and Allie together again. Dad made a special effort
with him and kept kissing him and asking him questions, but Allie
kept his stance; he was very confused and he'd never liked Eva.

locate myself and learn what the heart is. Perhaps in the future I
would live more deePlY.
And so I sat in the centre of this old city that I loved, which itself
sat at the bottom of a tiny island. I was surrounded by people I
loved, and I felt h"PPy and miserable at the same time' I thought of
what a mess everything had been, but that it wouldn't always be
that

way.