Part 31 (1/2)

I looked up.

'h.e.l.lo, Claud.'

Claud had lost at least a stone in weight. He looked leaner, sharper, with a touch more grey in his cropped hair. He wore a faded blue sweats.h.i.+rt, black jeans and training shoes. He half looked round at where Griffith Singer was hovering in the doorway.

'So, I'll leave you two together,' Singer said awkwardly, as if he had brought us together on a blind date and wasn't sure how we would get on.

Claud nodded.

'Shall I sit here, Barry?' he asked, gesturing at the chair opposite mine in the circle. Barry nodded. He sat down and we scrutinised each other.

'You're looking well, Claud,' I said.

He was was looking well, better than I'd ever seen him. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the compliment. He reached into his trouser pocket and removed a crumpled cigarette packet and a grey metal lighter. He offered me a cigarette and I shook my head. He lit one for himself and drew deeply on it. looking well, better than I'd ever seen him. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the compliment. He reached into his trouser pocket and removed a crumpled cigarette packet and a grey metal lighter. He offered me a cigarette and I shook my head. He lit one for himself and drew deeply on it.

'This is a stimulating environment,' he said. 'There are interesting ideas being developed here. In various respects, I think it's an improvement on the Barlinnie model. And as for me personally...' He gave a modest shrug. 'It's a remarkably healthy existence. But how are you?'

'Have you heard about Alan?'

'I don't look at television or read the newspapers.'

'He's become a literary star again.'

'How so?'

'He's written a prison memoir. It's called A Hundred and Seventy-Seven Days. A Hundred and Seventy-Seven Days. The publishers rushed it out this month. It's been a sensation. The The publishers rushed it out this month. It's been a sensation. The New Yorker New Yorker devoted an entire issue to publis.h.i.+ng it complete. The reviews compared it favourably to devoted an entire issue to publis.h.i.+ng it complete. The reviews compared it favourably to One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Alan told me that Anthony Hopkins is going to play him in the film version. I think Alan's only uncertainty at the moment is whether he's going to get the n.o.bel Prize for literature or for peace.' Alan told me that Anthony Hopkins is going to play him in the film version. I think Alan's only uncertainty at the moment is whether he's going to get the n.o.bel Prize for literature or for peace.'

Claud smiled. He tapped his cigarette and the ash fell on the floor by his right foot.

'So you're on speaking terms?' he said.

'Very much so. Alan took me in his arms and forgave me. I was very moved, even though it was in a TV studio on live television.'

'What happened to your therapist?'

I shrugged.

'How are the boys, Jane?'

'Paul's fine as well. He did a completely re-edited version of his film. It's been sold all over the world. He's at a television festival in Seoul as we speak.'

'Good. I thought the original was rather superficial, myself.'

'It must have seemed so to you, Claud.'

'What about your hostel, Jane? Is it functioning?'

'Not exactly, but we do have our third official opening date and we've got closer to it without it being cancelled than ever before. I'm hopeful.'

'I'm glad to hear it, Jane. That's a good sign. It's a wonderful project. I'm happy for you.'

A pain was gathering strength behind my eyes.

'And what about your own magnum opus magnum opus? I hear you're writing a novel.'

Claud laughed. 'Has Griff been blabbing about it? I know that one should never show people one's work until it's finished, but he wouldn't be denied.'

'What's it about?'

'I'm writing a sort of crime story, almost as an intellectual exercise. I must say that I've found it quite satisfying.'

'What's the plot?'

'It's about the murder of a teenage girl.'

'Who kills her?'

'That's the interesting part. I'm trying to get away from the old hackneyed image of young girls as sweet, pa.s.sive creatures. The murder victim is a manipulative adolescent, conscious of her awakening s.e.xual powers. She is beautiful and charming, but she uses these qualities as tools to damage all those around her. She finds out their secrets and blackmails them.'

'Is that why she's killed?'

'Not quite. She can't resist using her physical attractions even on the men in her own family. Unknown to everybody else, she starts to lead her own eldest brother on.'

'How does she do that?'

'You know the sort of thing, a look here, a touch there, an air of complicity, moments of flirtatiousness. One of the things I'm trying to capture is the transition in a family from the stage where the relations.h.i.+ps are innocent to the stage where similar behaviour becomes s.e.xually charged, because the girl has become a s.e.xual being and she is aware of the power she exercises.'

'What happens?'

'She gets more than she bargains for. She is leading him on, so he makes her go the whole way. He makes her see the logical result of her own behaviour. But this is the twist, you see. Even here, she uses her s.e.xuality as a form of power over her brother, taunting him with it, humiliating him. What is meant to be her punishment becomes a pleasure to her.'

'What happens?'

'It's one of those things that might have fizzled out, but she becomes pregnant.'

'Couldn't she have an abortion?'

'That doesn't arise between them. She threatens her brother with it. He receives a note from her saying that she will expose him to the family.'

'You sound as if you're on the murderer's side.'

'You always have to see every side of a story. It's what makes us human, isn't it, our imagination? That's what you used to say, anyway.'

'Do you think you will be able to persuade readers that a young girl deserves to be murdered by the brother who made her pregnant?'

Claud allowed himself a small smile and a shrug. 'It's an artistic challenge.'