Part 29 (1/2)
”Yes.”
”This is Mr Mr Poole?” Poole?”
”Who, you are?”
”No, I'm saying you are, are you?”
”Why, do you know different?”
”Yum, you don't sound--was To Speke it sounded like a woman trying to be gruff--like Lesley, he thought, or even his daughter, if hers had been the voice which had answered the Pooks' phone. ”My name is Roger,” he said hastily, ”and I'm calling on behalf of Face to Face Communications. I wonder if you can spare me a few minutes of your time.”
”It'd be hard for me to spare anyone else's.”
”Well, qum. Dum. Um, don't you wish you could see my face?”
”What's so special about it?”
”Not just my face, anyone's on the phone. I'd like to offer you a month's free trial of the latest breakthrough in communication, the videphone.”
”So that you can see if I'm who I say I am? Who did you think I was?”
”Was when?”
”Before I was who I said I was.”
”Forgum. Forgive me, but you sound exactly like--was ”Sounds like you've got a wrong number,” the voice said, and cut itself off.
It seemed to have lodged in his head, blotting out the overlapping voices around him. He returned the handset to its housing and made his way up the aisle to the supervisor's desk, feeling as if his feet were trying to outrun each other. The supervisor was comparing entries on forms with names and addresses in her directory. ”How's it coming, Roger?” she said, though he hadn't seen her glance at him.
”A bit hit-and-miss this evening, Mrs s.h.i.+llingsworth,” he managed to say without stumbling. ”I wonder if I should vary my approach.” ------------------------------------436 ”It seems to be working for everyone else,” she said, indicating the forms with an expansive gesture. ”Have you any customers for me?”
”Not yet tonight. That's what I was saying.”
She ticked a box on the form she was examining and raised her wide-eyed placid flawless face to give him a single blink. ”So what did you want to suggest?”
”Mayb.u.m, jum, just that maybe we could use our own voices a bit more, I mean our own words.”
”I'll mention it next time the boss comes on-screen. Have they installed yours yet, by the way?”
”They were supposed to have by now, but we're still waiting.”
”It's important to you, isn't it?”
”I didn't think seeing people's faces while I'm talking to them was, but now I know I can. ...8 ”Customers have priority. I'll speak to the engineers anyway. As for your calls, you can play them by ear to a certain extent. Just don't go mad.” She looked down quickly, clearing her throat, and pulled the next form towards herself. ”Give them another half an hour, and if you haven't had any joy by then I'll let you go.”
The conversation had left Speke feeling locked into the formula, which sounded more enigmatic every time he placed a call. ”My name is Roger and I'm speaking on behalf of--was Only half an hour to go ...
”My name is Roger and I'm speaking--was Only twenty-eight minutes ...
”My name is Roger and I--was Only twenty-six ...
”My name is Roger--was Twenty-four minutes, twenty-two, twenty, one thousand and eighty seconds, nine hundred and fifty-seven, eight hundred and forty-one, seven hundred and ...
”My name is Roger and I'm speaking on behalf of Face to Face Communications.”
”Really.”
”Yes, I wonder if I can borrow a few minutes of your time. I expect that at this very moment you're wis.h.i.+ng you could see my face.”
”Really.”
”Yes, I know I am. I'd like to offer you a month's free trial of the latest breakthrough in communication, the videphone.” ------------------------------------437 ”Really.”
”Yes, you must know people who already have one, but perhaps you think it's a luxury you can't afford. I'm here to tell you, Mr Pore, that our technicians have brought the cost down to the level of your pocket, even my pock.u.m. If you'll allow us to install our latest model in your home for a month at no obligation to you, you can see for yourself.”
”Really.”
”That's what I said.”
”Well, go ahead.”
”Sorry, you wum-- You're asking me to arrange a trial?”
”I thought that was why you were calling, Roger.”
”Yes, of course. Just a mum, I'll just gum--was Speke had been growing more and more convinced that Pore was making fun of him. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a form from the pile beside the six-inch screen, on which electrical disturbances continued to flicker as though they were about to take shape. ”Let me just take a few details,” he said.
Pore responded to his name and address with no more than a grunt at each, and emitted so vague a sound when he was asked what times would be best for him that Speke suggested times which would be convenient for himself, not that it had anything to do with him, When he returned the handset to its nest his half an hour had almost elapsed, but he couldn't call it a day now that he might have made a sale. He pushed the form to the edge of his desk to be collected by the supervisor and found his gaze straying up the column in the directory to Pook, Charles. He crossed out the listing until it resembled a black slit in the page, and then he wished he'd memorised the number.
”My name is Roger and I'm speaking,” he repeated as he drove home. Figures were silhouetted against the illuminated windows of shops, or rendered monochrome by streetlights, or spotlighted by headlamps. On the two miles of dual carriageway between the office block and the tower block where he lived he couldn't distinguish a single face, even when he peered in the rearview mirror. Large fierce bare bulbs guarded the car park around the tower block, and the glare of them pulled a bunch of shadows out of him as he left the Mini and walked to the entrance. For a moment numbers other than the combination for the doors suggested themselves to him. He keyed the correct sequence and shouldered his way in.
Although the tower blocks had been gentrified it seemed that a child had been playing in the lift, which stopped at every floor. Someone with long hair was waiting on the seventh, but turned towards the other lift as the door ------------------------------------438 of Speke's opened, so that Speke didn't see his or her face. Until the person moved Speke had the impression that it was a dummy which had been placed near the lifts to lend some contrast to the parade of otherwise identical floors, fifteen of them before he was able to step out of the shaky box and hurry to his door.
Stef was home. The kitchen and the bedroom lights were on, and the narrow hall, which was papered with posters for English-language films which had been dubbed into other languages, smelled of imminent dinner. Speke eased the door shut and tiptoed past the bedroom and the bathroom to the main room, but he had only just switched on the light above the bar when Stef emerged from the bedroom. ”Shall I make us drinks, Roger?”
”Rum,” Speke said before he managed to say ”Right.”
”We haven't any rum unless you've bought some. It looks as if we've just about everything else.”
”Whatever's quickest,” Speke said, sitting down so as not to seem too eager; then he jumped up and kissed her forehead, giving her bare waist a brief squeeze. ”Tell you what, I'll make them if you want to see to dinner.”
”I'll get dressed first, shall I?”
”I should.”
He had a last sight of her glossy black underwear half-concealed by her long blonde hair as she stepped into the hall while he uncorked the vodka. One swig felt sufficient to take the edge off his thoughts. He made two b.l.o.o.d.y Marys, with rather more vodka in his, and carried them into the kitchen, where Stef in a kimono was arranging plates on the trolley. ”Busy day?” he said.
”We've a cla.s.s of students all week at the studio. I've been showing them what you can do with sound and vision.”
”What can I?”