A Girl's Guide to Modern European Philosophy

by Charlotte Greig

  Jason's yellow Morgan was waiting outside the station with Bear in the passenger seat. I climbed in and pecked him on the cheek, squeezing myself in between the two seats, over the gearstick. Bear grinned at me, pushing back his floppy dark hair and peering through his National Health specs, and put his arm round me, mainly because he didn't have anywhere else to put it. Jason got in and we took off at full speed, the tires squealing, dodging between the cars.

  “We're meeting Flick and Toby there,” Jason said as we hurtled along.

  My spirits sank. Flick was Jason's older sister. She worked in advertising, and she made it clear that she thought I was an idiot. She had a business with offices and studios over the market at Covent Garden, managing a team of artists to draw storyboards for the big agencies. I'd worked there as a temp in the summer holidays, which was how I'd met Jason.

  It was the year after my father died, and I'd come up to London to get away from my mother and Swansea, and the relations, and all the people I hardly knew who were still coming up to me on the street and being sympathetic and asking me how I was in a meaningful way. Jason hadn't been sympathetic at all: when I'd told him, he'd just changed the subject. I'd met him on the anniversary of Dad's death, although I hadn't been aware of the date until I thought about it afterwards. There'd been no one in the office when he'd walked in, and I'd been reading The Birth of Tragedy between telephone calls, and then I'd looked up and seen him grinning at me over the desk. He had a wide mouth, and his eyes were a glittering, luminous blue, with small black pupils in the middle that seemed to draw you in like vanishing points. I don't know what it was that he saw in me, but whatever it was, we couldn't take our eyes off each other, so we just went on staring at each other and saying nothing. It was like that French thing, coup de foudre, a bolt of lightning, love at first sight. I'd never felt like that before. Then he asked me what I was reading, so I showed him the book, and he said, Oh yeah, that Nazi guy, and I said he wasn't a Nazi, and then he asked me out to this wine bar in Covent Garden called Brahms and Liszt, and then we went to see The Night Porter which was showing in Leicester Square, and that was how it had all started.

  It had made that time around the anniversary almost bearable, going out with Jason in the evenings and working in Covent Garden during the day, coming in through the market stalls on those sunny mornings, with the barrow boys calling me love and offering me peaches. A peach for a peach, they used to say. But Flick hadn't been happy with my work. My task was to phone the agencies and harass them to see our artists, but I wasn't very good at it. When they told me no, I just politely thanked them and hung up. Flick told me to try harder, but I didn't seem to be able to get the hang of it. After a few days we had no new appointments, so she told me to stop calling the clients, as she called them, and just answer the telephones and open the post.

  Her boyfriend Toby wasn't so bad. He had two Dalmatians that went around with him everywhere. He left everything to Flick and concentrated on the dogs. He was quite interested in mysticism, and sometimes in the office he'd tell me about Gurdjieff or Carlos Castaneda, or whoever it was he'd been reading, but then Flick would come in and start glaring at me and we'd have to stop. Flick was a hard-nosed businesswoman. She didn't have any time for mysticism, or for Toby sitting about in the office doing nothing, or for me. When I started going out with her brother, she was horrified, although she tried not to show it. She couldn't understand why we were still together now that the term had started and I was a clueless philosophy student at Sussex University. I could see why she didn't like me, but then again, it was hard to imagine her liking any girlfriend of Jason's. She doted on him, and she seemed to want him all to herself.

  We managed to find a parking space at the top of Long Acre and headed down towards the bar. You couldn't see into it from the street, all the windows had slatted wooden blinds pulled down over them. When we walked in, Flick and Toby and the dogs were already there. Flick was dressed in her usual Biba stuff, her blond curls cascading over a short fur cape draped over her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing a forties' style maroon dress with a big fake flower in the buttonhole. She wasn't wielding a cigarette holder, but the way she smoked her cigarette, she could have been. Toby was beside her, reading the newspaper, wearing a pinstriped suit and a Homburg. Both the dogs were lying at his feet, wearing red leather collars and leads. They looked as though they'd been hired by an advertising agency to do publicity for the bar. Perhaps they had, for all I knew.

  Toby jumped up and put the newspaper away when he saw us, but Flick didn't move. She kissed her brother, taking care not to spoil her lipstick, and nodded at me and Bear.

  “What do you want to drink?” Toby asked. “We're having daiquiris.”

  I looked at the drinks on the shiny black-lacquered table. They looked pretty in their frosted triangular glasses with a slice of lime wedged on one side and a pink glacé cherry on a toothpick balanced over the rim. In the center of the table was a white orchid in a delicate red and black vase. I suddenly felt thirsty, as though I was in Brazil on a hot summer's night instead of in London on a wet October evening.

  “They look lovely,” I said, pointing to the drinks. “I'll have one of those.”

  Flick shot me a look as though to say, I bet you don't even know what a daiquiri is.

  “Whatever they are,” I added, just to annoy her. Then I felt embarrassed and wished I hadn't.

  The others ordered daiquiris as well, and Jason went off with Toby to get the drinks. I looked around. The place was impressive, all black shiny lacquer and silver chrome, and everyone in there was good looking and well dressed. I had on my blue velvet jacket, so I didn't feel too out of place, but my scruffy shoulder bag with the books in it looked awful against the chrome, so I wedged it out of sight under the table.

  People were coming in and out of the bar and the place was filling up fast. They were all older than me, sophisticated London people with jobs in advertising and film, people with plenty of money, people with nice cars and nice clothes, people who wouldn't have given a toss about the things that interested me, like Nietzsche, or John Martyn, or the structure of scientific revolutions. I envied them, and I wished I was as well dressed as they were, but at the same time I wasn't sure I wanted to be part of that crowd. I knew my friends at Sussex would think they were bourgeois.

  While Jason and Toby were at the bar, Flick started talking to us in the patronizing tone of voice she normally adopted to speak to her brother's friends.

  “So how's it going, Susannah? Still searching for the meaning of life?”

  She meant philosophy.

  “Yes.” I kept my tone steady and polite. I thought how hard she'd laugh if I told her about what I'd been reading in Human, All Too Human about being a philosopher and a wanderer and having a secret destiny, so I changed the subject.

  “How's the business going?” I tried not to sound sarcastic.

  “Great,” she said. “Our turnover this year has been fantastic. We've got a great track record now,” she continued. “Everyone knows us.”

  “Good,” I said. I resisted the temptation to add, bully for you. But something in my manner told her I wasn't interested in her turnover or her track record, so she stopped talking to me and turned to Bear.

  “So, Bear, what happened to that girl you were going out with … what's her name? The Australian nurse.”

  Bear looked sheepish. “Oh, you mean Steph.”

  I'd never met Steph, but I'd heard about her. She was the first girl Bear had gone out with since I'd met Jason, which was a couple of years back now.

  “Steph, that's it,” said Flick.

  Bear shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. It was a nervous trait he had.

  “Well, it didn't really work out,” he said. “She didn't really approve of my job.”

  Bear was some kind of city guy, a property developer of sorts, working for his father's firm. It wasn't a good job for him, Steph had been right about that. He wasn't the
right kind of person for it. Bear was small, sensitive and sweet. He was good looking, with dark hair and delicate features, but he didn't have that thing that makes women fancy men. He didn't like pushing other people around. He didn't have much confidence. He had no interest in the job either, and made no effort to pretend he did.

  “What do you mean, didn't approve of it?” said Flick.

  “Well, she thought it was morally wrong,” Bear replied. He paused. “She said I was a cancer on society.”

  Flick guffawed. “Oh, too much! Too much.”

  Toby and Jason came back with the drinks and Flick started telling them about Steph and the cancer on society. Bear joined in the laughter, but I could see he was upset. Flick didn't seem to notice. Then she saw some people she knew at the bar and dragged Jason off to meet them. Toby followed, leaving me and Bear at the table with the dogs.

  We sat in silence for a while, and then I said, “Do you mind about Steph, Bear?”

  “Not really.” He sounded miserable. “I liked her but … well, you know, we were so different. We just had nothing in common.”

  There was another silence.

  “Don't worry,” I said. “You'll find someone in the end.”

  It was a stupid remark but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

  “It's all very well for you,” he replied. “You've got Jason.”

  I looked into his eyes. He looked back into mine, and then both of us looked over at Jason standing at the bar, chatting to his new friends. Flick stood beside him, tossing her curls and laughing. Of all the women there, she was the only one who seemed to be a match for him. But I noticed that, from a distance, her chin had a hard set to it that was almost ugly.

  “Let's have another drink,” said Bear, finishing up his daiquiri.

  I was only halfway through mine, and I felt pretty drunk already. I didn't really want another drink and I couldn't afford one, but I didn't want to seem standoffish.

  “I'm completely broke,” I said. “You'll have to buy me one. They probably charge a fortune in here. Get me a Coke or something, otherwise you'll have to cart me off at the end of the evening.”

  “Don't be ridiculous, Susannah,” said Bear. “The night is young.”

  Bear waved at a waitress and she immediately came over. He ordered two more cocktails. Although he was so insecure, he had a way of behaving in bars and restaurants that always impressed me. He was never rude, but he always got the staff's attention. It must have been his family background. His father was a lord or something and the family were absolutely loaded.

  Bear and I spent the evening drinking at the table, while Jason and the others flitted round the bar, mixing and mingling. Jason came back from time to time to check we were all right. I was drinking as slowly as I could, but Bear was knocking the daiquiris back so fast that eventually Jason decided it was time to leave. He got us back in the car and drove us over to a trendy café that served these great American hamburgers. It was a bit like Brown's in Brighton. In both of them, they had the best looking waitresses I'd ever seen, the kind of girls with incredibly long legs that you'd imagine would be film stars, not waitresses. I watched them, mesmerised by their glamour as they glided around the room from table to table, bending from the knees as they served the customers, their faces impassive. It was depressing, really, and made me feel that life was impossible.

  While we were eating our hamburgers, Bear started crying. He was obviously very drunk, but it wasn't just the booze. Maybe it was Steph, but I didn't think so. Jason was pretty drunk as well but he sobered up quickly and called the waitress over to pay the bill, and then we all got back in the car again to go to the party. On the way, Bear had to be let out to be sick on the side of the road. While he was heaving up, Jason decided that we should skip the party and get back to Bear's flat, where we were staying that night. Bear wasn't very keen, but it was obvious that he was in no condition to go anywhere, so in the end we just drove home.

  Bear lived in a strange little flat off Kensington Church Street. It had art nouveau carvings on the outside of the building and must have cost a fortune to rent, but inside the noise of the traffic was a constant irritation. In all the rooms, you could hear the sudden squeal of taxis slamming on their brakes to stop at the traffic lights on the street below. The noise went on pretty much all day and night, which made it impossible to relax.

  When we got in, Bear seemed to perk up. He put a Pointer Sisters record on and the drinks came out again. He and Jason started playing cards together, sprawled out on the sofa. I could see it was going to be a long night so I went off to the spare bedroom, took off my clothes, and got into bed.

  I was exhausted, but every time I nearly drifted off to sleep, I woke up. Whenever I closed my eyes, I found myself in a white car, traveling along a black road. I recognized the car. It was one of the ones I'd seen in my morning dreams, when I got up out of bed and looked out of the window to see if I was awake. But now, instead of looking out at the cars, I was inside one of them. It was hurtling down the road at breakneck speed. There were white lines in the middle of the road that seemed to be coming at me faster and faster. Ahead of me, there was only a long straight road and nothing else but darkness on either side. I didn't think I was going to crash, but the car seemed to be speeding faster and faster. The only way I could stop it was to open my eyes.

  I lay there all night, nearly falling asleep and waking up in a panic each time I did. Jason didn't come to bed with me. If he had, I might have been able to snuggle up to his warm body and get some sleep. But he didn't. Once again, I was on my own.

  Eventually, I saw the first light of day edging round the curtains and I knew that in a couple of hours it would be time to get up and get back to Sussex.

  chapter 6

  I LET MYSELF OUT OF THE FLAT quietly before the others woke up, and walked down to Notting Hill Gate tube station. A gray mist hung in the air and the streets were wet with rain. You could see the blurred lights of taxis and buses and cars looming through the mist, and their wheels made a swishing noise as they went past that was oddly comforting. There was a newspaper seller outside the station, sitting in his booth wrapped up against the weather with a polythene bag over his flat cap, uttering a strange cry that he must have devised over many years to mark out his territory. People were scurrying about the streets with their collars up and their heads down, trying to get to wherever they were going before the next downpour, ignoring each other and clinging on to their private worlds for as long as they could in the first few hours of the day.

  I took the tube down to Victoria. The carriage stank of tobacco and sweat and urine, and there were cigarette butts all over the floor and burn marks on the seats. The passengers were all jammed up against each other, hanging on to the straps under the strip lights in their ill-fitting gray suits, trying to open and fold and refold their newspapers as discreetly as they could. As we went along, the smell of wet wool and stale sweat and bad breath grew stronger and the windows got more and more steamed up. Each time the train went round a corner, the man who was standing next to me pressed himself up against me, all the while intently reading his newspaper. My nose was so close to his hand that I could smell the nicotine on his fingers. After a while I began to feel nauseous, so I turned my head away and started to breathe in deeply, the way Rob had taught me, letting my breath out slowly and shutting my eyes to calm myself. By the time we reached Victoria I was starting to feel better, so I trod hard on his toe and didn't stop to pretend it was a mistake and apologize before I got off.

  When I reached my platform, the eight-thirty train to Brighton was just about to pull out of the station, so I ran on to it without buying a ticket, and found a seat near the buffet carriage. I bought a cup of tea but I couldn't face the fruitcake at this time of the morning, so instead I lit a cigarette and stared out of the window.

  To be sure, such a man will have bad nights … but then as recompense, come the ecstatic mornings of other regions and days. />
  Nietzsche's words didn't seem so reassuring now. There was nothing ecstatic about the grimy woodlands and dirty fields along the edge of the railway bank, out there in the morning mist. They looked like the kind of places where small children might be taken to be murdered. I turned away, opened my book, and tried to read, but I was too tired to concentrate, so I went on staring out of the window at the grubby landscape all the way down to Brighton, then changed trains, lit another cigarette, and stared out of the window all the way to Falmer as well.

  When I got to the European Common Room on campus, Cassie was waiting for me. She was drinking coffee out of a plastic cup and smoking a cigarette, trying to look haughty and unapproachable. I could see why. All the men in the room were glancing at her surreptitiously and as I passed one of them I saw him look over at her and whisper something to his friend.

  When she saw me, her face relaxed into a smile.

  “Thank God, Suse. Bloody hell, I feel like Daniel in the lion's den in here.”

  Cassie was prone to using biblical expressions. Her parents belonged to a religious sect called the Plymouth Brethren. They were always writing her long letters about fire and brimstone and Armageddon and something called the rapture, when all good Christians would ascend into the air and be taken into heaven. It could happen at any time. If it happened now, for instance, while she was smoking a cigarette and drinking her coffee, she'd be left behind with the rest of us heathens. She seemed resigned enough to her fate.

  “Who's been hassling you?” I asked, looking around.

  She indicated a dreary-looking bloke with greasy brown hair wearing a gray army surplus overcoat.

  “Ooh, Cass, he's gorgeous,” I said.

  She laughed, showing her perfect white teeth. I could see why all the men fancied her.

  Then she stopped laughing and looked at me. “God, Susannah, you look shattered. Are you all right?”