按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ying homosexual and heterosexual buggery； the court cards； anal sex with animals。 Diamonds； the most exquisitely drawn of the suits； were sadomasochistic； and here the artist's imagination had known no bounds。 On these cards men and women suffered all manner of humiliation； their wracked bodies bearing diamond…shaped wounds to designate each card。
But the grossest image in the pack was that of the Joker。 He was a coprophiliac； and sat down before a plateful of steaming excrement； his eyes vast with greed； while a scabby monkey； its bald face horribly human； bared its puckered backside to the viewer。
Mamoulian picked up the card and studied the picture。 The leering face of the shit…eating fool brought the bitterest of smiles to his bloodless lips。 This was surely the definitive human portrait。 The other pictures on the cards； with their pretensions to love and physical pleasure； only hid this terrible truth away for a while。 Sooner or later； however ripe the body； however glorious the face； whatever wealth or power or faith could promise； a man was escorted to a table groaning under the weight of his own excrement and obliged； even though his instincts might revolt； to eat。
That was what he was here for。 To make a man eat shit。
He dropped the card onto the table； and spat a barking laugh from his throat。 There would be such torment soon； such terrible scenes。
No pit is deep enough； he promised the room； the cards and cups； the whole dirty world。
No pit is deep enough。
IV Skeleton Dance
21
The man in the underground train was naming constellations。
〃Andromeda 。 。 。 Ursa； the Bear 。 。 。 Cygnus； the Swan 。 。 。〃 His monologue was for the most part ignored； though when a couple of young men told him to shut his trap he replied； barely altering the rhythm of his naming； with a smile and a 〃You'll die for that；〃 slipped between one star and the next。 The reply silenced the heckler； and the lunatic went back to his sky…watching。
Toy took it as a good sign。 He was much preoccupied by signs these days； though he'd never really thought of himself as a superstitious man。 Perhaps it was his mother's Catholicism； which he'd rejected at an early age； at last finding an outlet。 In place of the myths of Virgin birth and transubstantiation he was finding significance in small coincidences…avoiding standing ladders and performing half…remembered rituals with spilled salt。 All this was quite recent…only the last year or two…and it had started with the woman he was even now going to meet： Yvonne。 It wasn't that she was a God…fearing woman。 She wasn't。 But the consolation she'd brought into his life brought with it the danger of its disappearance。 That was what made him cautious with ladders and respectful to salt： the fear of losing her。 With Yvonne in his life he had new reason to keep the fates friendly。
He had met her six years ago。 She'd been a secretary then； working with the UK Branch of a German chemical corporation。 A sprightly； good…looking woman in her middle thirties； whose formality； he'd guessed； disguised humor and warmth in abundance。 He'd been attracted to her from the beginning； but his natural hesitancy in such matters； and the considerable difference in their ages； kept him from making any overtures。 Eventually it was Yvonne who broke the ice between them； menting on small things about his appearance…a recent haircut； a new tie…and so making her interest in him perfectly plain。 Once the signal had been given； Toy had proposed dinner； and she'd accepted。 It had been the beginning of the most rewarding months of Toy's life。
He was not an overly emotional man。 The very lack of extremes in his nature had made him a useful part of Whitehead's entourage； and he had nurtured his reserve as the salable modity it was until； by the time he met Yvonne； he'd almost e to believe his own publicity。 She it was who first called him a cold fish； she who taught him （difficult lesson that it was） the importance of showing weakness； if not to the world at large at least to intimates。 It had taken him time。 He was fifty…three when they met； and this new way of thinking went against the grain。 But she persisted； and slowly； the melt began。 Once it did； he wondered how he had ever lived the life he had for the previous twenty years； a life of servitude to a man whose passion was negligible； and ego； monstrous。 He saw； through Yvonne's eyes； the cruelty in Whitehead； the arrogance； the mythmaking； and though he showed； he hoped； no change in his superficial attitudes to his employer； beneath the conciliation and the humility there increasingly simmered a resentment that approached hatred。 Only now； after six years； could Toy contemplate his own contradictory feelings about the old man； and even now he found himself forgetting the worst； at least when he was out of Yvonne's sphere of influence。 It was so difficult when he was in the house； subject to Whitehead's whim； to keep the perspective she'd given him； to see the sacred monster for what he was： monstrous； but far from sacred。
After twelve months Toy had moved Yvonne into the house Whitehead had purchased for him in Pimlico； a retreat from the world of the Whitehead Corporation that the old man never inquired about； a place where he and Yvonne could talk…or be silent…together； where he could indulge his passion for Schubert； and she could write letters to her family； which was spread across half the globe。
That night； when he got back； he told her about the man on the train； the constellation namer。 She found the whole story pointless； couldn't see the romance of it at all。
〃I just thought it was strange；〃 he said。
〃I suppose it is；〃 she replied； unimpressed； and went back to her dinner preparations。 A few words on； she stopped。
〃What's wrong； Billy？〃 〃Why should something be wrong？〃 〃Everything's fine？〃 〃Yes。〃 〃Really？〃 She was always quick to ferret out his secrets。 He gave up before she really began on him； it wasn't worth the effort of deception。 He stroked the ridge of his broken nose； a familiar trick when he was nervous。 Then he said； 〃It's all going to e down。 Everything。〃 His voice trembled and fell away。 When it was clear he wasn't going to elaborate she put down the dinner plates and crossed to his chair。 He looked up； almost startled； when she touched his ear。
〃What are you thinking about？〃 she asked； more gently than before。
He took hold of her hand。
〃There might e a time 。 。 。 not so far away 。 。 。 when I'd ask you to leave with me；〃 he said。
〃Leave？〃 〃Just up and go。〃 〃Where？〃 〃I haven't thought that through yet。 We'd just go。〃 He halted； and looked at her fingers； which were now dovetailed with his。 〃Would you e with me？〃 he asked at last。
〃Of course。〃 〃Ask no questions？〃 〃What is this； Billy？〃 〃I said： ask no questions。
〃Just go？〃 〃Just go。〃 She looked long and hard at him： he was washed out； poor love。 Too much of that wretched old fart in Oxford。 How she hated Whitehead； though she'd never met him。
〃Yes； of course I'd go；〃 she replied。
He nodded。 She thought he might cry。
〃When？〃 she said。
〃I don't know。〃 He tried to smile； but i