It Takes a Thief

by Niels Hammer

  “And I sustain laughter with life, for each birth is a reaffirmation of life, and of the courage of women to bear the pain of giving life, a greater degree of courage than that required of men to take life.”

  ὡς τρὶς ἄν παρ’ ἀσπίδα στῆναι θέλοιμ’ ἄν μᾶλλον ἢ τεκεῖν ἅπαξ. Caitlin – delighted by her perspicacity – looked at him to emphasise what this kind of insight implied. A sorceress –

  “A woman once said that she would rather fight three times behind a shield than to give birth once.”

  “Exactly. But who was that?”

  “Mēdeia in the tragedy by Euripidēs. It’s a bitter-sweet truth, that’s why I remembered it.”

  “You can send me that as well, and now I would really like to see some of your paintings. What kind of paintings do you paint, I mean what style do you prefer?”

  “I try to suggest the ineffable, that which cannot be expressed, so that the real content of the painting consists in that which is suggested rather than in that which is explicitly painted.”

  “You’ll have to see it really.”

  They rose from the wrecks of the table and he followed them discreetly into his atelier. While Caitlin had the nimble gait of a Cat on a narrow rail Barbara – pitching heavily in her hips – cruised across the floor through heavy seas.

  “Here’s an oil painting of footprints in a snowstorm. Beginning to become invisible they disappear on the crest of the hill as if vanishing into the heavily overcast Sky. The glimpse appears to come a little too late to reveal the being who just went thus across the slope. So he or she is not here anymore, at least not in the painting, but he or she is present in my mind and I hope in the mind of the viewer all the more poignantly for not being depicted. The viewer is free to visualise who it was. The only indication is the shape of the footprints.”

  “They remind me of a cat’s.”

  “Or the footprints of a Yeti, a Snowleopard or of Buddha even hardly touching the snow?”

  “Footprints are what we see, the manifested world, the explicate order, the isotropic universe and the being who left them is that which we do not see, the unmanifested, the implicate order, consciousness as such, the underlying creative principle, or ‘empty’ space or ‘God’ if you like.”

  “Do you think it requires any kind of previous knowledge in order to be appreciated?”

  “No, not as long as it evokes a sense of wonder or curiosity even.”

  “And what’s this? I can hardly imagine what it is apart from a wild turbulence.”

  Her laughter was pure and not an expression of an apology for failing to see.

  “A storm at Sea where the clouds are so low that they fuse with the foam. It’s a study in colours though with a narrow spectrum of green, grey, black and white in which forms and shapes are dissolved apart from eddies or surges of water, foam, mist and rain.”

  “I like that. I can feel how it must be, just before a shipwreck, I mean.”

  It arose suddenly as an urge. He took the picture and gave it to her with a smile.

  “Here, take it as a gift from Caitlin, but I had also the intention of showing a derangement of the senses brought about by external events, as a shipwreck also may be the end of a journey and the beginning of a new one, though of another kind altogether.”

  “Oh, thank you ever so much.”

  She placed a succulent kiss on each of his cheeks as a token of her affection and – enclosed in her embrace – he felt her sincerity – a bell of pure water – vibrate in the force of her arms. Imagining Caitlin’s joy he tried to trace the events back to the point where his spontaneous gesture had taken form. It was not premeditated – but maybe Caitlin had wanted him to show his affection for Barbara by such a gift. He would –

  “And you too.”

  Embraces would have originated in coitions – Amphibians – Otters – and initiated –

  “I’m glad you like this sea- and cloud-scape, but let’s make tea while you find a frame for it.”

  “Yes, I might have one somewhere that will fit.”

  They had secrets to share – secrets that were not fit for his Delphinic ears – but their intimacy was a reassurance of her independence. A frame – a frame? Tunnel vision or a dioptra. Almost the right size. Polished heartwood. He had better leave them alone. Caitlin would appreciate diplomatic tact and this would take some time – nails and a solid string – screw eyes –

  “Here’s your tea!”

  There was no need to say anything now. Her steps had already given him a hint – her glance confirmed it. They had no need of him now so he could peruse the new issue of Revue des deux Mondes – Afrique Afrique – fons et origo. Synchronicity? He closed his eyes.

  “Barbara is in the bathroom. She wants to say good-by.”

  With the painting under his arm he met her in the hall – fresh from her ablutions for the road.

  “Thank you so much for the painting. It will be such a surprise to Teddy. He’s an old salt, you know, and by the way, I have invited you to dinner next Sunday. I hope that’s convenient?”

  Looking at Caitlin he smiled and nodded.

  “I’ll look forward to meet you again, and your husband as well.”

  Caitlin followed her out to the taxi and he went upstairs to change. Her gait – life’s joy.

  “The painting was a good idea. Barbara was a bit reluctant to accept it; it was far too much.”

  “She’s very charming, a real woman – ”

  “Do you find her attractive?”

  “Yes, certainly. You move like a Cat and Barbara swims like a Dolphin.”

  “I’ll not tell you what she said about you though.”

  He wondered what her smile meant.

  “Why not?”

  “It would simply not be wholesome for you to hear it.”

  “You should have no secrets from me as I have none from you.”

  “I promised her not to tell you.”

  So he had to quench her laughter with a kiss.

  XXVI

  The train from Norwich was winding its way down towards London and he sat looking at the landscape without seeing what he saw – but seeing her when she had followed him out to the car. The freshening breeze had blown her hair away from her cheek and opened her morning coat to give him a glimpse of her breasts – but as a spontaneous reaction – suggested by the semi-public space of the driveway – she had quickly recocooned herself in cotton. So pitilessly sweet had she looked that he had felt certain that he would remain rooted to the spot – unable to get into the metal vehicle that would take him away from her for seven or eight hours. While delighting in his quandary she had pushed him down into the seat and given him a farewell kiss as if he had been on his way to Kerguelen. The taste of her morning mouth was still lingering in the taste-buds on his tongue – simultaneously urging him backwards and forwards in time. So once more she had appeared as an epiphany of true reality – at least as far as he could feel and hear and see to-day. But would it – could it – last and last and last? He felt as if it could. His innate sense ascertained that it could. She felt that it could and said so both with words and silence. So where did this doubt come from? Accumulated disappointments tried to protect him from an absolute commitment that might prove to be lethal if it failed. So what? It was better to be absolute for death. He should not now be such a bloody coward as to have reservations – especially as she had none – or so he thought. He knew the Deil well enough when he saw him. The Doubter – how did it – something like ὕπαγε ὀπίσω μου – Σατανᾶ – οὐ φρονεῖς τὰ τοῦ θεοῦ ἀλλὰ τὰ τῶν άνθρώπων – the little Spectator – the Doubter who judged – who watched him – a ghost generated in the left hemisphere. Je est un autre – zwei Seelen wohnen – ach – in meiner Brust. Here was the bridge to be
crossed and the Devil did not dare to cross a running stream. His fear would wither away for lack of nourishment or so he hoped. Having no remembrance of the journey he found himself suddenly standing as if by an act of telekinesis ringing the bell of Fjodor’s massive door – and it was just a little later – in the reality of the present here and now – swung open by what would have to be his latest amourette enwrapped in a royal morning coat.

  “Ralph, I presume?”

  Her eyes were merry – her eyes – taking him in – met his inquisitive gaze head on as she made a quick spontaneous evaluation.

  “Pure honesty is such a rare delight.”

  “I’m glad you’re able to appreciate it. Come in. Fjodor’s waiting upstairs.”

  He followed her slowly swaying buttocks as they ascended the carpeted stairs in the gentle twilight. How would she – he had suddenly slipped back into the past without knowing it as if painting a picture in a style he had abandoned long ago.

  “So there you are. Now you have no option left but to explain.”

  Rising with a suave and congratulatory air he came across the floor with the dancing steps of youth to embrace him and share his sparkling joy.

  “I’m in love with her and she with me beyond comprehension or concepts. I had not dared to imagine such a result and I’m – ”

  “No hybris, no hybris! Speak softly! The wanton Gods above listen to every word we say.”

  “All right. I am and Caitlin is also of course very grateful for your help, without which I would never have found her or indeed had the necessary leverage to make her understand the issue fully. She moved in Friday afternoon with all her paraphernalia, and she has already planned our marriage, four weeks from now. We will expect you either alone or accompanied by the harīm of your choice for the day.”

  “Hush!” But I had hoped for an earlier dinner invitation.”

  “Wait a week, then we will be ready. Wednesday evening Caitlin is going to investigate a house and I’m helping her. There is a dog, hence the ketamine.”

  “I see, but for God’s sake, take care. You’re not used to this sort of thing.”

  “We’ve seen the house from the riverside. It’s well hidden on all sides, and Caitlin has a sound scientific approach. She studied history and electronic engineering in Edinburgh. She’s both rational and passionate. I’m still staggering under the impact of her presence.”

  “So I should begin to acknowledge your intuition?”

  “You will when you meet her.”

  “I have Doctor Silverleaf’s address here and your name. He wants one hundred and seventy-five Pounds. His consultation is open till four.”

  “Perfect, we’ll do a little experiment to-night on a Sheep, but compensate later, if possible, by offering her some choice food.”

  “Ask Silverleaf, but a dog would, I think, require less than a sheep.”

  “Yes, I only know that that would be the case if it had been a Goat, but I have no idea about a Sheep. We’ll pacify the Sheep with an electrical gun first. Caitlin has one, and the dog is the only obstacle. She has surveyed the house for eight weeks with the same kind of transmitter as the one you gave me.”

  “Has she ever had the misfortune of an accident?”

  That was obviously a question he had hesitated to ask but one which he felt he had to raise.

  “No, not as far as I know, and if she had, she would have changed her profession, but this will be her sortie, hopefully with a flourish. She made it clear that she would abandon the project in case I had the slightest objection, and of course I had, but as she was so keen on her encore, and she really likes this kind of excitement, I agreed to join her.”

  “Toujours la politesse, and I can see no reason for why you should not be able to pull it off. She must be very accomplished, so I was wrong. She’s obviously an exception.”

  “Yes, and careful. She keeps à jour by reading the Forensic science journals once a month.”

  “Will she miss it then?”

  “I have been deeply worried about such a development, so I have tried to suggest another kind of excitement, and she is beginning to take a keen interest in the natural world, but only because she already has such a predisposition, fostered by playing along the banks of the Deveron as a child, and furthermore, she is thoroughly familiar with the Sea.”

  “That’s a very trustworthy indication, and if she wants to marry you, you must have succeeded already. Was ever woman in such – but will the house be occupied during your visit?”

  “No, as a rule she will only investigate an empty house.”

  “That’s a sound rule, but all rules only cover general aspects, as your case shows.”

  “It’s always the accidents of the unforeseeable that make a plan go agley, like my first plan did to woo and win her, and her attempt to get rid of me; but what a lovely and charmingly candid young woman you’ve found there, the one who let me in?”

  “Yes, I met her at the bar between act two and three of die Meistersinger. Our eyes met, instant understanding, but she keeps me constantly exhausted – ”

  “Come on, that’s why you – ”

  “Get out, Doctor Silverleaf, a miserable sheep, a poor dog, an empty house and the love of your life are all awaiting.”

  Fjodor followed him down to the door.

  “I will call you on Thursday.”

  “Yes, and take care, take great care, and good luck.”

  Going down the noisy street – among the busy faceless pasts and futures who all had it made and the square buildings of glass and concrete where the dreams of the poor were cremated – he found a cab that took him to an address in Baker Street and after searching for the right name he rang the bell of Doctor Silverleaf’s office. The stairs were grim – the place itself was hardly definable – neither modern nor antiquated – neither charming nor repulsive – and even the secretary seemed to verge on the nondescript at least if seen from a safe distance.

  “Good day, my name is – Archibald Cholmondeley de Troyes – ”

  The little whiff of Fjodor’s sense of humour made it hard to display the necessary sincerity – for what was not just make-believe and acting? Nothing – nothing – but thin air.

  “And I have been given to understand that Doctor Silverleaf is expecting me?”

  She could even be his wife. The rings on her fingers – poisonously coloured fungi thriving on decaying branches – and her metallic – zinc-grey – look of indifferent curiosity –

  “Please take a seat.”

  An elderly man was sitting across him engrossed in a newspaper. He was sporting a trilby and patent leather boots. That was all he could see. His hands had not been shaped by manual labour – and in the next instant he had the feeling that he was sitting opposite a gentleman of the turf. He was too portly to have been a jockey and too keen on reading to have been a groom – so maybe his interests had been focused on taking bets – betting – picking up good tips and selling those he thought might be a little chancy. Such an assumption would fit with Doctor Silverleaf’s likely reputation. The door opened and a young rather thin woman came out looking distraught and dishevelled. She had been weeping and she clutched her bag as if clinging to a straw in a frothy Sea. As she was going out of the door he rose quickly.

  “Excuse me, but you look as if you could do with a piece of chocolate coated brandy cream.”

  He opened the paper bag for her as she tried to focus her attention and look at him. His smile reassured her and with a little nod and a little sniffle she took a chocolate and opened the door.

  “It’s very kind of you, thanks.”

  He had had no choice.

  “Maybe I can tempt you as well with a little piece of chocolate?”

  Her bored indifference gave way to a mild degree of interest. Giggling awkwardly –

  “Oh, how nic
e of you, thanks. I shouldn’t though, you know.”

  Her figure maybe – though the impact would be minimal.

  As he was going to sit down the gentleman reading the newspaper looked up at him.

  “Maybe I can also offer you a little piece of chocolate?”

  “No thanks, I’m not too fond of sweets now-a-days.”

  Clean-shaven – thin lips and a military air – years ago – corporal or sergeant – Horse Artillery affiliation.

  “Mister Sullivan, please!”

  He heard his steps as he walked into Doctor Silverleaf’s office and the sound of the handle as he closed the door. Expressions of personality and mood. He had not moved silently or closed the door gently but briskly as if bothered by something he had learned to live with. The aspects of the world he chanced to see or understand were strictly circumscribed by his degree of self-insight and the plurality of his experience. Glimpses of a kaleidoscopic reality of which nearly everything would remain unknown to him for ever. He saw reflections of himself – also in Caitlin – just as she saw herself reflected in him. This mutual acknowledgement had caused him to fall in love with her and vice versa – though this was only a partial explanation of a complex psychodynamic process of which nine tenth took place in the unconscious. From time to time a ’bus or a heavy lorry passing in the street below made the windows rattle. Splinters of dry bones on wind-swept rocks – watched only by Lämmergeirs – and since he came he had tried to disregard the smell but also to define it. Not cabbage – not tobacco – not hops – not tannic acid – not acetone – not fresh mould – it was much easier in negative terms – like it was easier to be destructive than constructive – hence the popularity of the former – no – the smell came from the secretary’s buried dreams – but though she may have forgotten what they were she had not forgotten that she had buried something – and this smell of resignation that seeped out into the air of the room emanated from her skin like fog from a black stagnant body of water. The door opened at last to emit Mister Sullivan – so he rose and went over to the window to watch the traffic through the grimy prism of neglect upon the glass.