A Clue to the Exit by Edward St. Aubyn

Author:Edward St. Aubyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250046048
Publisher: Picador

15

I managed to write those last few pages since our lunch at Jean-Marc’s, but now I’ve been taken over by my circumstances and can’t carry on.

Yesterday was my last day with Angelique. I suggested we go to the Grand Large, where we first met, and although she agreed she could barely disguise her impatience with my sentimentality. The casino is only ten yards east of the Hôtel de Paris, where we usually have lunch, and it clearly irked her to be driven dozens of miles in the wrong direction by someone whose credit was about to run out. I was mortified that we were reduced to commenting listlessly on our food, like a couple of alienated pensioners in whom enthusiasm, even for mutual torment, has been entirely replaced by the congealing powers of resignation and habit. In other words, like the rest of the clientele. By the time my myrtilles Metternich arrived I was furious.

‘What makes you think that I’m going to give you my last million francs when all you can do is sit there sulking?’

‘We have a contract,’ she said.

‘Yes, but it’s based on passion. Without passion it’s shit.’

‘I know you’re under pressure with your health and everything,’ she said politely, ‘and it’s difficult for both of us that we’re separating tomorrow morning,’ she soldiered on, ‘but I think it’s unfair of you to start threatening me just because you feel bad. You know I have to gamble, so if you’re not going to give me the money I’m going to go to the bank right now before it closes. I’ll leave your bags with the hall porter.’

‘You “have to gamble”. You think you’re so wild and haunted, don’t you? But your life is as routine as a bank clerk’s, except that your mission is to throw away as much money as you can, which isn’t, in some cases, the aim of bank employees.’

‘Fuck you,’ she growled. ‘You have no idea what it means to take risks.’

‘Bullshit! You’re the one who’s playing safe. For you, danger is removed to a world of tokens and substitutes. Why gamble with chips and cards when you can play with your life and sanity? The answer is that you don’t dare.’

‘I know you’re unhappy because you’re going to die soon, but you don’t have to take it out on me,’ said Angelique. She picked her bag off the floor and slid her chair back from the table.

I suddenly felt the chasm of her departure. ‘Don’t go,’ I said, clasping her forearm. I took out my last two 500,000-franc tokens and put them on the table. ‘I’m upset, that’s all. I can’t bear the idea of our parting. It’s…’ I stopped, knowing that we couldn’t have that conversation again. ‘Listen, I’m going to go for a walk now. I’ll see you back home or in the Salle Privée.’

‘OK, darling,’ she said, kissing my hand, and struggling to load her handbag with the huge rectangles of shining plastic. ‘It’s so silly to argue on our last precious day together.

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