The Life-Writer by David Constantine

Author:David Constantine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Biblioasis
Published: 2016-04-18T15:17:20+00:00

11

At the end of that first term in Oxford Eric was summoned to see his tutors. They told him, not unkindly, that unless he mended his ways he would fail his Prelims, would have to resit them, and if he failed them again he would be sent down. His tutor in French added that they were puzzled by him. He had been expected to do very well and they didn’t understand why he wasn’t. And they waited, not in the least unkindly, for an explanation. But he had none, or none he could utter. Leaving them, he collected his post, which was a letter from Monique and one from his mother saying how much they were looking forward to having him home for Christmas, with a PS from his father, saying that, either side of the job on Christmas post, they were taking on casuals at Dulux paints so he should hurry home and get in there quick. Eric went to the post-office and sent a telegram to Monique; then to the bank, and emptied his account; then, packing as little as possible, he hitched to London and caught the night-train to Paris.

Katrin understands this moment in Eric’s life as a radical simplification. He knows wholeheartedly what he wants and he goes after it, leaving all else behind him or to one side. Perhaps he thinks such other matters can wait, he will attend to them when he has settled the one thing that cannot wait. She, of course, sees perfectly well that this thing that cannot wait, cannot and will not ever be settled either. He will want more; never again, she believes, will he want anything so consumingly; and the more he feeds, the more he will hunger. But she does share his sense that after weeks of distraction now at last his life has concentrated on what it most desires.

The boat-train got in early. Eric ran for the métro, the 4 to Châtelet, down the long corridors he ran, caught a 7 just leaving. He surfaced in the Place Monge, into the city aiding the weak daylight with lamplight, and among people opening their shops or going to work or to their studies and past the damp clochards on the métro vents, he ran to 7 rue Tournefort and halted there, heart pounding.

Across the street, from the Café Amyot, Maurice saluted him. Two or three of the others were already there. They also raised a hand in friendly greeting. Good, said Eric to himself. Let them see. Let it be known in the quartier that I love her helplessly. The house door was open, he climbed the five flights, the light went off halfway up, he climbed the rest in darkness and only switched on again at her door to which she had pinned a note: Je suis au lit. He removed this document and folded it away between two pages of his passport. Then he went in, locking her door behind him.

He crossed the big room to the window and drew back the curtains.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.