The Biographer’s Moustache

by Kingsley Amis

  Brian appeared to be satisfied. He wanted to know, or at any rate asked, ‘You’re still enthusiastic about the project, yeah?’

  ‘More than ever.’

  ‘Great. There’s just one point I want to take up with you. You remember when we talked before we agreed there were obviously going to be two sorts of stuff in your book, what you might call literary, about the old boy’s works, and, you know, personal, what he got up to. I told you then there was bound to be more readership interest in him and all those wives et cetera. Right. I also said, what was quite obvious, that we really seriously need to sell an excerpt or two to one or other of the heavy papers to go probably in its Saturday edition, one excerpt minimum, more if possible. We frankly expect not to do all that well from sales with this one so we’ve just got to recoup on serial rights. That’s where you come in, my old Gordon, yeah I know you come in everywhere in this but it’s up to you to show me a couple of meaty excerptible chunks pretty soon, and when I say meaty you know what I mean but I’ll spell it out for you just to be on the safe side. I mean personal, which is to say sexual, to do with Jimmie and his wives and other females, more outspoken as some of them still call it than, er, what you’ve shown me so far. If you’ve no objection I’ll take a hand in placing the excerpts, I’ve got one or two useful contacts there.’

  ‘So you think there’s a chance?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Don’t forget the old boy’s the sort to not only reveal it in private but to make the right kind of affronted noises in public. Newspapers like that type of thing. And there are some shit-hot libel lawyers around. Now I hope you reckon you can help out.’

  ‘What do you mean when you say pretty soon, being when you want me to deliver these chunks of bawdy?’

  ‘Who said anything about bawdy? The moral tone will be elevated throughout, will it not? We’d like them by the end of the month, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Gordon. ‘I’ll enjoy it. Blowing the gaff on that toffy-nosed old twit. Or perhaps son of a bitch would be more suitable.’

  ‘Mind your language, doctor. I knew you were having a second thought or so about him but I never thought you’d swung this far.’ Brian paused and looked Gordon over before continuing. ‘How does he get on with his wife, his present wife that is? By the way how do you get on with her? Quite pretty still, isn’t she?’

  If Gordon had not been thinking at that very moment of how nice Joanna looked with no clothes on he would very likely not have jerked slightly in his chair at Brian’s last question, let his mouth fall open and stepped up his rate of blinking. Anyway, he could not face the tedium of denying the implication. ‘A shot in the dark, I hope,’ he said.

  ‘One that landed, too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. In your position you’re bound to get a bit of that. I saw something in a diary in one of the rags.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘Don’t worry, just some prat had seen you and her out at lunch somewhere. I’ll send you a xerox. It was nothing at all.’

  If, again, Gordon had not been charged up with adrenalin just then he would almost certainly not have retorted, ‘Well, that sort of stuff’s obviously fresh in your mind these days, isn’t it, Brian?’

  Brian Harris showed a superiority of something or other by not betraying the success of any shot, whether aimed or at a venture. Scorning to ask what that was supposed to mean, etc., he contented himself with looking the picture of low-priority incomprehension.

  ‘Well, you’ve cleaned up your act, haven’t you? With it you may still be for all I know, but you don’t half work away at being a long way away from it. What tipped me off first was your conversational style. For a publisher, you used to go on as if you couldn’t read a book title without moving your lips.’

  ‘Pithy too, eh? Then what? Sorry, I mean what did you notice after that?’

  ‘General get-up. Clothes, accent. But the chief thing was all those sentences with verbs in you kept reeling off. Only one thing could get you rejigging yourself on that scale – what you used to call a slut.’

  Brian was silent for a space, almost imperceptibly nodding his head several times. Then he said, ‘My lady friend’s ever so grand, I don’t mind telling you. She says piss awff. What about that? Clever bit of deduction on your part, though. I didn’t have you figured for somebody who notices that kind of thing.’

  ‘It was a lucky guess, and I’m just back from a week-end at Hungerstream, which you’ll doubtless know at least by repute, so the subject was sort of fresh in my mind.’

  ‘Hungerstream, Christ. Well, as I used to say, it takes one to know one. Hey, I’ll tell you something, my old Gordon – until I started going round with this bloody aristo and mixing with her mates I’d have said that snobbery, the genuine old-fashioned article, you know, Ascot and Henley and I’m more important and just better than you because my dad’s a marquis and yours is only a viscount, I’d have said that was all over, thing of the past. But is it buggery a thing of the past.’

  ‘Here to stay as never before.’

  ‘Are you free for lunch?’

  24

  After lunch, which lasted for some time, Gordon went back to his flat, intending to do some preparatory work on his couple of excerptible chunks for Brian, and indeed put in fully three minutes on that before falling asleep in his chair. Evidently he still had some catching-up to do. When he awoke he telephoned the Fane number for the second time since returning but, as had already happened more than once that day, got only the utterly remote voice of Joanna on the answering-machine. He did no better on a couple of subsequent goes but did manage to get hold of Madge Walker and invite himself round there that evening.

  No. 14 Pearson Gardens, with its photographs of archaic battleships and 1950s style of decoration, was so much as before that Gordon might never have left it, but Madge herself was not quite as untouched by time, even though only a short stretch of it had elapsed since his last visit. She was again dressed as if taking part in some historical reconstruction, but had lost some of her former look of robustness. By the reckoning he had years ago heard from his mother, Madge had suffered one of those sinkings from one level to a lower one that old people underwent from time to time.

  ‘Bless you for remembering our ridiculous hours,’ she said. ‘The captain’s safely tucked up. He was asleep when I last had a look at him. Tell me, Gordon, did you notice any sort of funny smell when you came in?’

  ‘No,’ he said truthfully, though it was also true that his nose had not been on the alert for one.

  ‘That’s a relief, it’s such a nuisance with the gas-men trampling all over the place trying to find a leak. I’m sorry I started putting you through the third degree when you’d hardly sat down, but they do say, don’t they, that one’s more likely to notice anything like that when one’s coming fresh to it. Are you sure you weren’t aware of anything?’

  ‘Absolutely certain,’ said Gordon, and added at once, as if turning to a new head, ‘How’s the captain been?’

  ‘Oh, perfectly marvellous as always. Well, in fact he hasn’t been too well this last week or two, nothing serious, just some temporary thing, hardly worth calling in the doctor. But he is so marvellously cheerful and brave the whole time. I’ve never known him utter a cross word and he never complains, I wish I could be like that. I sometimes think with Alec it’s all that naval training he had, but then I think that was no more than just a help to him. It’s character that counts, the way one was born. Do you think there’s anything in that?’

  ‘Yes, very much so.’

  ‘Dear Gordon, it is nice to see you. Now is there anything I can get you? Would you like a drink?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I would. Just a small one.’

  ‘You always say that.’

  ‘Ah, but this time I can see to it that my wishes are respected.’ And he brought out the unopened half-bottle of whisky he had had ready.

  Madge looked at it in an affronted way. ‘Gordon dear, I can’t have you –’
/>
  But he had his story ready too. ‘This is a new brand that’s just come on to the market, I thought we might see what we think of it.’

  Mollified by this couple of lies, she went to fetch water and glasses. ‘You don’t like ice, do you?’

  A jug was being audibly filled out in the kitchen when the telephone rang and Gordon found he could answer it without rising from his chair.

  ‘Hallo.’

  ‘Is Mrs Walker there?’ asked a youngish female voice with a London accent.

  ‘Hold on a minute.’

  Long before a minute had elapsed, in fact after only a few seconds, Mrs Walker was indeed there, her face troubled, her attention all on the handset. ‘Yes,’ she said into it. ‘Speaking. Thank you.’ She said more, not closely attended to by Gordon, who went in search of the makings of drinks and otherwise tried to efface himself but saw no reason why he should not pick up what he could. This amounted to the recognition that the caller had told Madge that something had gone well so far and Madge had told the caller that that was most satisfactory and she would telephone in the morning. Alec was not alluded to, still less mentioned, but Gordon knew that he came into it somewhere.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Madge as she put the telephone back. ‘What a nuisance that woman is. Oh, well done, my dear.’

  ‘You did mean these glasses, didn’t you?’ Gordon broke the seal on the whisky. ‘Say when.’

  ‘M’m, I think this is really quite good,’ she said after a sip, to his hidden disagreement and herself not seeming to voice any deeply held belief. ‘Auld Antipathy,’ she read off the label. ‘That’s a strange name if you like. Now you tell me what you’ve been doing.’

  ‘Well, about the only thing is I’m just back from staying at Hungerstream.’

  ‘Ooh, how thrilling. That’s Gervase Dunwich, isn’t it?’

  ‘It was, but he, er, I gather he died suddenly not very long ago and it’s his brother Willie now.’

  ‘Really. Tell me all about it.’

  Gordon told Madge a great deal about it, though he left out several things, including what Jimmie had said on their walk. He went into some detail about the unexpected manifestation of Lady Rowena and some of what had ensued.

  ‘Oh, she’s called that now, is she?’ said Madge. ‘She was plain Rosie when I first heard of her. How fascinating. It would be just like her to have arranged to turn up in that sort of way in the hope of putting the cat among the pigeons, just like her.’

  ‘What do you think of the idea that Jimmie’s, how shall I put it, Jimmie’s planning to stage a come-back in her life, to last until further notice? Would that be just like him, or at all like him?’

  Madge looked grave, but she answered readily enough. ‘Well, Gordon dear, you understand this comes from somebody who’s been on the outside all these years and who doesn’t know any of the ins and outs. Would it be just like Jimmie, no it wouldn’t, he hates causing upsets and he hates causing other people pain if he can avoid it. Would it be like him, well still not very. But if you sort of come down the scale to would he be capable of it, there I have to say that he bloody well would, you know. He mightn’t like doing it, it might really cause him real pain, but he’d do it. He’s one of the nicest and sweetest men I’ve ever met, but he’d do it. That’s to say the Jimmie I used to know would have and I don’t think people change much about that kind of thing, do you?’

  ‘M’m. Madge, do you mind if I ask you something?’

  ‘Gordon dear, you can ask me anything you like, but as the barmaid said, whether I’ll tell you or not, dearie, well that’s a horse of a different colour.’

  ‘It isn’t that sort of thing. What you told me about that awful evening when you realized, that’s to say you found out later you’d been ditched in favour of somebody called Betty Brown …’

  ‘Oh yes, I told you that whole story, didn’t I, I remember.’

  ‘Is she still, I mean do you know where I could get hold of her?’

  ‘I don’t suppose you feel very much like asking Jimmie, and anyway she walked out on him a long way back, but I’m afraid I’ve no idea where she is, I can’t help you, I’m sorry, but as far as I know she’s still alive, yes.’

  ‘I’ve got to get hold of her if I can to ask her about Jimmie.’

  ‘Of course, for your book. How’s that going, are you nearly finished?’

  ‘I’m hard at work on one bit of it which I hope I’ll finish soon.’

  ‘Ooh, super. What’s the bit you’re hard at work on about?’

  ‘Well, it’s sort of Jimmie’s marital career.’

  ‘His sex-life, you mean. Better and better. Can I see it when it’s ready?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘My dear, there’s no need to hesitate if it’s because you’re afraid for my delicate sensibilities, where Jimmie’s concerned I haven’t any of those left, they went out of the window God knows how many years ago. No, it would do him good to have some of the nasty truth about him out in the open. That’s a figure of speech of course, nothing would do Jimmie Fane good, short of being flogged round the fleet, and you can trust him to avoid anything like that. No, you show it to me if you feel like and if you don’t then publish it anyway and jolly good luck to you.’

  Soon afterwards Gordon took his leave, not wanting to wear out his welcome, noting too the glances Madge had started to send in the direction of the bedroom in which Alec presumably lay. When Gordon got back to his flat, he settled down at the telephone and, after some thought, rang the Fane number, which answered at once with the voice of Joanna in the flesh.

  ‘It’s me,’ he told her.

  ‘Hallo. I thought perhaps you’d gone away somewhere.’

  ‘What? Far from it. In fact I was going to suggest –’

  ‘Actually it might not be such a bad idea if you did go away somewhere for a spell. No, it’s all right, darling, it’s just that as things are at the moment you might do worse than keep your distance.’

  ‘Is Jimmie about at the moment?’

  ‘Just this minute taken himself off to Gray’s. I know he was there last night as well, but there must still be plenty of chaps he hasn’t yet had a chance to impress with having stayed the night at Hungerstream, Willie Dunwich’s place, you know.’

  ‘Why don’t you just come round here straight away?’

  ‘Because, one, I’m expecting some people, and two, Jimmie’s bound to ring up about something and I want to be here for that. As to three, well …’

  ‘Yes, what is three?’

  ‘It’s really all right, darling. I’ll come round tomorrow and explain. What do you say to that?’

  Gordon saw it was all he was likely to get. When he had finished talking to Joanna he went and made a cup of tea, which he carried back to the telephone. There, taking a small card from his pocket, he punched a number unfamiliar to him. A man answered.

  ‘Mr Cooper?’ asked Gordon.

  ‘Norman Cooper speaking,’ said the youngish north-country voice.

  ‘You won’t know me, Mr Cooper, but my name’s Scott-Thompson.’

  ‘If it’s Gordon Scott-Thompson, then indeed I do know you from what Mrs Walker’s had to say about you.’

  The two of them spent a few moments on that. Then Gordon said, ‘I told Mrs Walker I wanted somebody to help look after a friend of my mother’s.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  ‘But what I really wanted to know was how Mr Walker or Captain Walker is.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss my clients’ state of health or anything else about them.’

  ‘I’ll come and talk to you in person if you say the word.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t discuss such matters with you under any circumstances. Now if you’ll kindly –’

  ‘Forget it, then. Forget that, anyway. If I ask you another question, will you please treat it as confidential, I mean that I asked you?’

  ‘All right. Let’s have your question.’

  ‘Rememb
er I’m asking this as a friend of them both. I hope Mrs Walker’s given you that sort of impression of me, that I’m on their side.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I could say that. Get a move on now.’

  ‘Right. How well off are they, the Walkers? I know they’re not very, but as far as you know are they managing all right, or aren’t they?’

  The dead silence at the other end lasted so long that Gordon’s nerve was severely tested, but he managed not to speak. In the end Norman Cooper’s voice said, ‘Hallo?’

  ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘I’d like you to understand I’d have hung up on you long ago, Mr Thompson, if it were not for the way Mrs Walker talks about you, all right? Anyhow, to cut the cackle, the answer to your second question is that they’re not, they’re not managing all right, or they soon won’t be. She’s got a little bit of capital which she’s spending as slowly as she can but obviously it won’t last for ever. Not that that’s a requirement in this case, I do see. As regards your first question, I’ll answer it after all, as far as to say that Captain Walker’s condition has taken a small turn for the worse which it’s hoped won’t prove irreversible. Though the effect on the bank balance already is. I’d like you to regard all this information as confidential, in the same way as –’

  ‘Just to interrupt you there, Mr Cooper,’ said Gordon, ‘could you give me an estimate of what kind of sum of money is going to be needed and a rough idea of –’

  ‘Twenty-two hundred by the end of this year at the latest. Madge and I worked it out between us.’

  ‘Thank you. Noted.’

  ‘Can you do anything?’

  ‘I’ll have to see.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything myself.’

  25

  After a toilsome morning in the course of which he finished off the first of the two excerptible chunks about Jimmie, Gordon had a cheese-and-pickle sandwich and a glass of Callow’s best bitter at the pub across the park. He had told Joanna that he already had a lunch engagement, but his true reason for choosing not to eat with her was more basic, namely that his expectation of the main event of the afternoon was already uncommonly vivid and would probably have risen to uncomfortable heights during any sort of shared meal taken before the off, if indeed he managed to get anything solid inside him at all. It was bad enough on his own in the pub.