Mood Indigo (10 page)

‘I don't like it,' said Chloe. ‘Can't we go another way?'

‘It's the only way,' said Colin. ‘Would you like to look at the Cookery Book? … I've brought it with us …'

They had brought no other luggage, counting on buying everything on the way.

‘Shall I lower the coloured windows?' asked Colin again.

‘Please,' said Chloe. ‘The light isn't so bad now.'

The road twisted again sharply, and they were suddenly in the midst of the copper mines. The mines went down on each side in steps, a few yards at a time. Enormous deserts of arid greenish copper unrolled out into infinity. Hundreds of men, dressed in goggled dungarees, were moving around in the flames. Others were stacking up the fuel in regular geometric pyramids. Electric trucks were continuously bringing more. Under the effects of the heat, the copper melted and ran in red streams fringed with spongy slag that was as hard as stone. At certain spots it was directed off into great reservoirs where pumps poured it into oval pipes.

‘What a terrible job! …' said Chloe.

‘They're very well paid,' said Nicholas.

Some of the men stopped to watch the car go past. The only thing that could be seen in their eyes was a look of lightly mocking pity. They were big and strong, and they looked as if nothing could harm them.

‘They don't like us,' said Chloe. ‘Let's go away.'

‘It's because they're working …' said Colin.

‘That's not a reason,' said Chloe.

Nicholas put his foot on the accelerator. The car whizzed over the frowning road, breaking through the barrier of noise from the machines and the smelting copper. ‘We'll soon be on the old road again,' said Nicholas.

‘Why were they so scornful?' asked Chloe. ‘Work isn't so wonderful …'

‘They've been told that it is,' said Colin. ‘And lots of people do believe that it's good. But nobody really thinks it is. They do it out of habit and precisely in order not to have to think about it.'

‘At any rate, it's stupid to do work that machines could do just as well.'

‘Those machines have still got to be made …' said Colin. ‘And who's going to do that?'

‘Mm … Of course,' said Chloe. ‘If you want an egg, you need a chicken – but once you've got a chicken you can have millions of eggs. So it's best to begin with the chicken.'

‘What we need to find out,' said Colin, ‘is who it is that stops people making such machines. They must need more time. People waste their time living, so that there's none left over for them to work in.'

‘You mean the other way round, don't you?' said Chloe.

‘No,' said Colin. ‘If they had time to make the machines, they wouldn't need to do anything afterwards. What I mean is that they work in order to live instead of working in order to make machines which would let them live without having to work.'

‘It's a bit complicated …' was Chloe's verdict on that.

‘No,' said Colin, ‘it's very simple. Of course, it would have to be done by degrees. But people waste so much time making things that wear out …'

‘But don't you think they'd rather stay at home kissing their wives and going swimming and to the pictures? …'

‘No,' said Colin, ‘I don't. But only because they don't think so themselves.'

‘But it's not their fault if they think work is so terrific, is it?'

‘No,' said Colin, ‘it's not their fault. It's because they've been taught that “Work is holy, good and beautiful. It counts above everything else, and the workers alone will inherit the earth”. Only things have been arranged so that they have to spend all their time working and there's no time left for the rest of it to come true.'

‘Well, they must be stupid then!' said Chloe.

‘Yes, of course they're stupid,' said Colin. ‘That's why they agree with those people who want them to think that work is the best possible thing for them. It stops them thinking for themselves and trying to reach a state where they wouldn't need to work any more.'

‘Let's talk about something else,' said Chloe. ‘Things like that are so dull. Tell me you like my hair …'

‘I've already said that I do …'

He lifted her up and put her on his knees. Once again he felt completely happy.

‘I've already told you that I love you enormously – the whole of you and every little particle and detail …'

‘Well then, start going into details,' said Chloe, letting herself sink into Colin's arms as cuddly as a contented cobra.

‘Excuse me sir,' said Nicholas. ‘But would Mr Colin like us to stop here?'

The car had stopped at the side of the road in front of a hotel. This was the right road, solid and smooth, rippling with photogenic reflections, with perfectly cylindrical trees on both sides, lush green grass, sunshine, cows in meadows, worm-eaten fences, flowering hedgerows, orchards with apples on the trees, little mounds of autumn leaves and scattered drifts of snow here and there to prevent the landscape from becoming monotonous. There were palm-trees, mimosa and Northern pines in the garden of the hotel, and a redheaded, tousle-haired boy chasing two sheep and a drunken dog. On one side of the road the wind was blowing, and on the other it was not. You could take your choice of which side you liked best. Every other tree gave shade, and in the ditch on one side only could there be found frogs.

‘Yes, let's stop here,' said Colin. ‘We won't get to the sea today, anyway.'

Nicholas opened the door and jumped out. He was wearing a splendid chauffeur's uniform of pigskin with a very slick cap to match. He took two steps back and surveyed the car. Colin and Chloe got out too.

‘Our conveyance is considerably soiled, sir,' said Nicholas. ‘It's all that mud we've been through.'

‘It doesn't matter,' said Chloe. ‘They'll give it a wash at the hotel.'

‘Go in and see if they've got any rooms for us,' said Colin, ‘and anything nutritious we can eat.'

‘Very good, sir,' said Nicholas, smartly bringing his hand up to his cap in a more exasperating manner than ever.

The velvet-covered rail on the polished oak gates in the fence sent shivers of delight running up his spine as he put his hand on it. His footsteps crunched over the gravel path, and he went up the two steps. The glazed door gave way as he pushed it and he disappeared inside the building.

The blinds were down and it was all very quiet. The sun was gently baking the windfalls and hatching them out into fresh little green apple-trees which instantly burst into blossom and gave even smaller apples. By the third generation all that could be seen was a kind of pink and green froth in which minute apples rolled around like marbles.

A few animals were snoozing in the sun, carrying out certain of their duties by spinning time on the spot. On the windy side of the road the graminivorous ones were slyly tucking in, and rotating leaves and feathers flew with a sound like crumpled silver paper. Some sharded insects tried to fight against the current, producing a soft splashing sound like the wheels of a paddle-steamer lashing into a great lake.

Colin and Chloe, in each other's arms, bathed in the sunshine, not saying a word, although their hearts were beating together to a boogie rhythm.

The glass door gave a little squeak. Nicholas was standing there again. His cap was on sideways and his suit was rumpled with all the buttons in the wrong holes.

‘Have they kicked you out?' asked Colin.

‘No, sir,' said Nicholas. ‘They will be pleased to accept Mr Colin and his wife – and they can service the car too.'

‘But whatever happened to you?' asked Chloe.

‘Hrrm! …' said Nicholas. ‘The manager isn't there … so his daughter saw to me instead …'

‘Put yourself straight,' said Colin. ‘You're indecent.'

‘I should be grateful if Mr Colin would forgive me, sir,'
said Nicholas, ‘but I thought that the two rooms were worth a little sacrifice …'

‘Go and put your civilian clothes on,' said Colin, ‘and start speaking normally. You're beginning to drive me round the bend! …'

Chloe stopped to play with a little mound of snow.

The flakes, soft and cool, did not melt and stayed perfectly white.

‘Look how pretty it is,' she said to Colin.

Underneath the snow there were primroses, cornflowers and poppies.

‘Yes,' said Colin. ‘But you shouldn't play with it. You'll get cold.'

‘I shan't!' said Chloe, and her cough was like a rip through a gorgeous piece of wild silk.

‘Chloe dear,' said Colin, putting his arm round her, ‘don't cough like that. I can't bear it!'

She left the snow which was slowly falling like baby feathers and began to glow again in the sun.

‘I don't like that snow,' murmured Nicholas.

He remembered himself immediately.

‘I beg Mr Colin to forgive my freedom of expression, sir.'

Colin pulled off one of his shoes and flung it straight at Nicholas's head. Nicholas was just bending down to scrape a minute stain off his trousers and stood up in surprise to see what had happened when he heard the window crash.

‘Oh, sir! …' said Nicholas, full of reproach. ‘That's Mr Colin's bedroom window!'

‘Just too bad!' said Colin. ‘Now we'll have a bit of fresh air … And that will teach you not to talk like an automatic idiot …'

He hopped through the hotel door, helped by Chloe.
The window-pane was beginning to grow again. A thin opalescent skin was forming on the edges of the frame, shimmering and iridescent with flashes of vague mysterious colours that were constantly changing.

‘How did you sleep?' asked Colin.

‘Not too badly. How about you?' said Nicholas, like a normal human being this time.

Chloe yawned and reached for the jug of black bean-syrup.

‘That broken window stopped me sleeping,' she said.

‘Hasn't it healed up yet?' asked Nicholas.

‘Not altogether,' said Chloe. ‘The trephination is still wide enough to let a piercing draught come through. This morning there was a flurry of snow all over my chest …'

‘It's murder,' said Nicholas. ‘I'll give them a piece of my mind. By the way, are we off again this morning?'

‘This afternoon,' said Colin.

‘I'm afraid I'll have to put on my chauffeur's uniform,' said Nicholas.

‘Oh! Nicholas …' said Colin, ‘if you start that again … I'll …'

‘Yes,' said Nicholas, ‘but there's no need to now.'

He swallowed his bowl of black bean-syrup and finished his bread and butter.

‘I'll go and take a look at the kitchen,' he announced, getting up and straightening his tie with a pocket brace-and-bit.

He left the room and the sound of his steps could be heard getting fainter and fainter as they drew nearer to what was in all probability the kitchen.

‘What would you like us to do today, Chloe?' asked Colin.

‘I'd like you to kiss me, and me to kiss you,' said Chloe.

‘Sure! …' replied Colin. ‘And then what?'

‘And then …' said Chloe, ‘… but I can't say it out loud …'

‘Fine,' said Colin, ‘but after that?'

‘After that,' said Chloe, ‘it will be lunchtime. Hold me in your arms. I'm cold. It's that snow …'

Sunshine floated into the room on golden waves.

‘It's not cold here,' said Colin.

‘No,' said Chloe, snuggling up to him, ‘but I am. And afterwards I'll drop a line to Alyssum …'

Right from the start of the street the crowd were pushing and shoving to get into the hall where Jean Pulse Heartre was going to give his lecture.

People were using all kinds of tricks to needle through the eagle eye of the chastity belt of special duty policemen who had cordoned off the district and who were there to examine every invitation card and ticket, because hundreds and thousands of forgeries were in circulation.

One group drew up in a hearse and the coppers stuck a long steel spike through the coffin, crucifying the occupants to the elm for eternity. This saved having to take them out again before the funeral and the only trouble caused was that the shrouds would be all messy when the
real dead men came to use them. Others got themselves parachuted in by special plane. There were riots and fighting too at Orly to get on to the planes. A team of firemen took them for a practice target and, unlacing their hoses, squirted them straight in the bulls-eye of the battle where everybody was miserably drowned. Others, in a desperate attempt, were trying to get in through the sewers. They were being pushed down again by hob-nailed boots which jumped heavily on their knuckles every time they tried to get a hold by gripping the edges of the man-holes. The sewer rats took over from there. But nothing could dampen the spirits of these aficionados. They weren't the same, however, as the ones who were drowning and who continued to struggle, the sounds of their efforts rising up to heaven and bouncing back off the clouds with a cavernous rumbling.

Only the pure, the really turned-on group, the intimate friends, had genuine tickets and invitation cards which could be very easily picked out from the forgeries. For this reason they slipped in unhindered between the buildings along a narrow alley which was protected every eighteen inches by a secret agent disguised as a Turkish Delight or a Mud Guard. Even so, there was still a tremendous number of genuine ticket-holders, and the hall, which was already brim-full, continued to welcome new arrivals every minute.

Chick had been there since the day before. For gold he had obtained from the doorman the right to take his place and, in order to make such a switch-over plausible, had broken the left leg of the said doorman with a surplus second-hand crowbar. There was no question of sparing his doublezoons where Heartre was concerned. Alyssum and Isis sat with him, waiting for the speaker to arrive. They
had spent the night there too, anxious not to miss the great occasion. Chick, in his Sherwood green attendant's uniform, looked as sexy as a dream. He had neglected his work badly since he had come into possession of Colin's twenty-five thousand doublezoons.