LITMIR.BIZ

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landscape. I remembered all these things clearly now. I also knew in a flash that the extra bottles in the bathroom – the tonics, the laxatives, the vitamin pills – were all nonsense; my mother’s insistence on gritty brown bread, her references to deeper sleep, extra milk and fresh air – meaningless. All these were no more a likely cure for love than a bandage over the finger for some internal injury.

      From that afternoon all the childishness of the zoo disappeared for me, and as the days went by its whole character changed; its cruelty and beauty, its strident colours and harsh cries gradually took the place of all those mild and comic impressions I had experienced there as a child. Now something savage and sad brooded far back in the darkness of the cages we passed. When I stopped to listen I would hear sounds I had not been aware of before – strange rustlings and whistlings from hidden birds, those unidentified croakings and hoots belonging rather to midnight than to noon; and sometimes there came a howl, heart-freezing, yet so distant that it seemed to come, not from the trim confines of the garden, but through the black arctic air and across miles and miles of snow-covered plain.

      Everything that had been associated with earlier visits faded out. The animals themselves had changed. Now it was horrible to remember that I had ever expected them to clown for my entertainment – painful even to stare too long at the yawnings and scratchings, the sudden blows and caresses, or to meet the brooding, yellow eyes which stared back, unblinking, at grimacing human faces. Even the seals, flopping off the hot boulders, or rocking from side to side on their flippers ready for a fish to come hurtling through the air, looked mournfully out of place. No longer hypnotised by the velvety backwards and forwards padding of the lioness, I waited only for the slow, swinging turn she would make at each end of the narrow cell, and heard, with a sinking of the stomach, the soft swish of her great shoulder as over and over again with sickening regularity it brushed the same spot on the wall.

      As the days went by and our outings never varied I began to wonder if the likeness of the man she loved might not, after all, be found in one of these animals at which we stared so long and gloomily; depending on my ever-changing feelings towards him I would find him on certain days amongst the monkeys, on others amongst the brilliant and talkative birds, and occasionally, when the thought of him began to bore me, I found him in a tank of brown, wrinkle-headed fish, gaping coldly at us like some jaded business man sealed inside the plate-glass of his office. One day I caught a spark of interest in her eyes for the first time as she looked after a well-dressed man who was strolling by himself round a pond of black and green ducks – a spark instantly extinguished when he turned his head; but from that moment I quickly removed this man of hers, whoever he was, from any likeness to certain of the monkey race – those tousled ones, shamelessly unbuttoned, who wore frayed fur round wrists and neck or, worse, patches of bare, scarlet skin on their backs. There were other elegant species to which he might still belong: monkeys with silky chestnut hair parted in the middle and falling smoothly over cleanshaven cheeks, whose fingers were long and delicate, rosy-pink on the inside. But the most likely place for him was still amongst the stylish birds; even if he was fat and formal it was possible to find him amongst the penguins who could stand for great lengths of time, tilted backwards, presenting plump, snowy shirtfronts to the admiring crowds.

      One afternoon I was peering into a cage which had seemed empty, but hearing a rustling in the inner passage I had put my head against the cold bars with both hands grasping them on either side. For a long time I stared but nothing appeared except a mouse which darted across and disappeared into a pile of straw. A chill disappointment had been growing in me for the whole of that day and now it was a raging discontent. Long ago I had lost the early liberties and privileges of this zoo and now, coming back again, had found nothing to put in their place. It was becoming clear to me that I was not to be allotted any of the responsibilities of being a real companion to this woman who stood behind me at this moment. She might speak flippantly about herself, but she did not bother with any comments I might make. She asked questions without expecting an answer; and sometimes after sitting silently for a long time she would give a deep sigh which she cancelled out immediately by a loud burst of laughter, at the same time turning her head away as though any reaction which might come from me was the last thing she could endure. The holidays were nearly over. That particular afternoon the zoo was almost deserted and inside me and around me was emptiness, a feeling that everything was already falling from my grasp. I hung on grimly to the bars as I spoke:

      ‘Why don’t you do something about it? Go after him, if that’s how you feel – or find somebody else! Anything’s better than wandering about day after day! Why did you choose us anyway? We’re no use to you and you know it. You even show it – yes, that’s true – you don’t even bother to hide it – you’ve shown it all along!’

      I shouted these last words in such a desperate voice that somewhere nearby but out of sight, the steady raking of a gravel path which had been going on for some time in the background ceased for a few seconds. Indeed at that moment everything seemed dead silent over the whole zoo.

      She stepped forward quickly and put her hand round mine which was still holding the bar – grasping it so hard that the fingers were crushed about the iron in an instant’s bone-cracking pain. The ache of iron was in my wrist, in my arm; cold iron was moving towards my chest when she dropped her hand. Mine remained on the bar until slowly, with the greatest caution, I withdrew it and held it up before me, still painfully curled and shaking slightly from its rigid grip. Slowly I stretched it out, finger by finger, and finally brought it close and peered into the palm which still held a blurred white bar-mark. No sooner had I seen this mark than I clenched my hand again as though concealing a painfully won prize and thrust it deep down into the pocket of my raincoat. We walked on without a word.

      A few yards away was a signpost bristling with half-a-dozen white-painted arms pointing in all directions and on which were inscribed: Giraffe, Monkeys, Wolves, Gents, Reptiles, Elephant. Cautiously taking the middle path between the Reptiles and the Wolves I arrived at a small pavilion hidden behind bushes and here I sat down wearily on the short flight of wooden steps which led up to it. There was nobody about. I sat perhaps for ten minutes wondering if I would always be tired now, if perhaps this heaviness in the limbs and the slight giddiness which I felt as I bent to tie up a shoe-lace were the characteristic signs of maturity, and though I welcomed these, I wanted nothing better than to return for a few moments to my normal state. It was a relief to turn my eyes, hot with staring at fantastic birds, to the few dusty sparrows hopping about near my feet amongst leaves and stones which concealed only the common spiders and beetles which I could have found any day in my own back-garden. There was no mystery here and no glory. Not far away a gardener, clipping back a high hedge, kept the distant howlings at bay.

      I had imagined that when I went back to the main path I should find her sitting on some nearby bench, or perhaps walking slowly on ahead, waiting for me to catch up. But when I at last emerged I saw her far off in the distance, already at the entrance gates. She turned once and waved – a friendly but casual gesture which slowed me down immediately, so clearly did it indicate that our afternoon together was at an end. I decided there and then that from that day I would leave nothing to chance. She would see that it was no dumb schoolboy she had on her hands. I would break ruthlessly through silences. If need be, in the days ahead, I could shift the whole scene of action to some entirely new and less disturbing territory.

      But there were to be no more days. The next afternoon was hot and thundery; I was outside the front door of the house, casually turning over the pages of a newspaper which lay on the steps and occasionally flicking away the flies which zigzagged erratically across the avenues of black print. Although seemingly absorbed, I was only awaiting the one cool look from her which was the usual signal that she was ready to go if I wished to join her. I waited a long time, and at last she came out. But the look was not casual. Instead, I saw with terror that her expression was kind. She paused, looked down at my paper in silence for a moment as though something of interest had caught her eye. Then she said, pointing, still with her head bent:

      ‘They’re absolutely wrong about that because I happen to know the town myself. A fishing river indeed! With paper mills along the banks! I suppose they’ll be making out it’s a holiday resort with freshwater bathing next. I’ll see it later. Save it for me till I get back.’

      She

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