How can such a beautiful country be so dull? Tooley thought aloud.
Why dull?
They arent turned on here, she said. None of them will ever be turned on. Would you like another cigarette?
Thank you. They are very mild. Agreeable flavour too. They dont rasp the throat.
I do like the expressions you use. They really are groovy.
I felt more awake than I usually do at that hour of the morning, and I found Tooleys company something of a novelty. I was glad that my aunt was sleeping late and giving me an opportunity to get better acquainted. I felt protective. I would have liked a daughter, though I had never been able to imagine Miss Keene as a mother. A mother should not be in need of protection herself.
This friend of yours in Paris, I said, was a very good judge of cigarettes.
He was fabulous, she said. I mean, hes really together.
French?
Oh no, he came from darkest Africa.
A Negro?
We dont call them that, she said reprovingly. We call them coloured or black whichever they prefer.
A sudden suspicion struck me. Was he called Wordsworth?
I only knew him as Zach.
Thats the man. Was it you he came to see off at the station?
Sure. Who else? I never expected him, but there he was at the gate to say good-bye. I bought him a platform ticket, but I think he was scared. He wouldnt come any further.
He knows my aunt too, I said. I didnt tell her that he had used her ticket for another purpose.
Now isnt that the wildest sort of coincidence? Like something in Thomas Hardy[125].
You seem to know a lot about literature.
Im majoring in English literature, she said. My father wanted me to take social science because he wanted me to serve a while in the Peace Corps[126], but I guess our ideas didnt coincide in that and other things.
What does your father do?
I told you he has a very secret job in the CIA.
That must be interesting, I said.
He travels about a terrible lot. I havent seen him more than once since Mom divorced him last fall. I tell him he sees the world horizontally, I mean thats superficial, isnt it? I want to see the world vertically.
In depth, I said. I was rather proud of catching up with her ideas.
These help, she said, waving her cigarette. I feel a bit turned on already. Its your fabulous way of talking.
I feel I sort of met you in the English literature course.
As a character. We did Dickens in depth.
Vertically, I said, and we laughed together.
Whats your name?
Henry. She laughed again and I followed suit though I was not sure why.
They didnt even call you Harry? she asked.
Harry is the diminutive. One cannot be baptized Harry. There was never a Saint Harry.
Is that what they call Canon Law?
I believe so.
Because I knew a fabulous guy once who was baptized Knock-Me-Down.
I doubt if he was really baptized that.
Are you a Roman Catholic?
No, but I believe my aunt is one. Im not quite sure though.
I nearly became a Roman Catholic once. Because of the Kennedys. But then when two of them got shot I mean Im superstitious. Was Macbeth a Catholic?
Its not a question thats ever occurred to me I suppose well, I mean I dont really know. It seemed to me that I was picking up her phrases.
Maybe we ought to lock the door and open the window, she said. What country are we in now?
I think we must be coming near to the Italian frontier.
Then open the window quick. I couldnt follow her reasoning, but I obeyed. I had already finished my cigarette, and she tossed away her stump and then emptied the ash-tray on to the line. Then I remembered Wordsworth.
What have we been smoking? I said.
Pot, of course. Why?
Do you realize we could be sent to prison? I dont know the Swiss law or the Italian, but
I wouldnt be. Im under age.[127]
And me?
You could plead innocence, she said and began to laugh: she was laughing when the door opened and the Italian police looked in.
Passports, they demanded, but they didnt even open them; the draught of the open window blew off one mans cap, and I could only hope the smell of Cannabis had dispersed down the corridor. They were followed closely by the customs men, who were equally considerate, except that one man wrinkled his nose. A few minutes later they were safely on the platform.
The sign read: DOMODOSSOLA.
Were in Italy, I said.
Then have another.
Ill do no such thing, Tooley. I had no idea For goodness sake get rid of them before night. Yugoslavias a Communist country, and they wont hesitate to imprison someone under age.
I was always taught that Yugoslavs were good Communists. We sell them strategic material, dont we?
But not drugs, I said.
Now youre being ironical again. I mean I wanted to tell you my great trouble, but how can I do it if youre ironical?
You said just now that irony was a valuable literary quality.
But you arent a novel, she said and began to cry as Italy went by outside. The Cannabis had caused the laughter and now, I suppose, it caused the tears. I felt a little unhappy myself, watching her. My head swam. I shut the window and saw through the pane a hill-village all yellow and ochre, like something grown of itself out of rain and earth, and beside the line a factory and a red housing estate and an autostrada and an advertisement for Perugina and all the wires and grids of a smokeless age.