Read Online Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin MacInnes
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kid I handed my Rolleiflex to, to snap us, and which shows us, she standingin front, and me standing round behind her, holding her arms, and looking over her head just after kissing her on the neck. And as I wandered round, putting on a garment here, and a garment there, I carried this photo, and propped it up somewhere when I had to use both hands, and gazed at the bloody thing and thought ‘Oh Christ, it was only just one single summer ago, what’s the use of being young if you’re not loved? Well, all right – what is the use? What is it? Or is that obvious, I mean my question?’
So that was that, and down I went to see Big Jill.
But on the first floor landing, opposite Mr Cool’s room, I noticed the door was left open, which was a sign I know that Cool had something he’d like to say to me, but was too damn proud to ask me to step in. If it had been anyone else, I would have just let the hint he dropped there where it lay, but with the coloured boys you’ve got to be so careful, or otherwise they put it down to prejudice. So I put my head around the door, and jeepers-creepers, nearly had a fit because would you believe it, there were two Mr Cools, one coloured, and one white, or so it seemed.
‘Oh, hi,’ said Mr Cool, ‘this is my brother, Wilf.’
‘Hi, Wilf,’ I said. ‘That’s crazy!’
‘What is?’ said this Wilf.
‘You being the brother of my favourite Mr Cool. It nearly shook me rigid when I saw the pair of you.’
‘Why did it?’ said this white-skinned number, who struck me, I must say, as not being at all a swinging character like his brother – in fact, quite un -cool.
‘Wilf’s on his way,’ said Mr Cool.
‘Yem,’ said this Wilf, and ‘see you.’ And he shook hands with his brother, and went out past me with not so much as a genuflection or a curtsy.
As soon as he’d gone, I said, ‘Cool, please excuse me, but I don’t quite dig the scene. I was quite polite to your brother, wasn’t I? but he just didn’t want to know.’
Mr Cool was standing very still, and very lean, and very all-by-himself, and said, ‘My brother’s come to warn me.’
‘Of what? News me up, please.’
‘Wilf’s Mum’s by another man, as you’ll have guessed.’
‘Well … Yes … So …?’
‘He doesn’t like me much, and my friends he likes even less, specially my white ones.’
‘Charming! Why, please?’
‘Let’s not go into that. But anyway, he gets round the area and knows the scene, and he says there’s trouble coming for the coloureds.’
I laughed out loud, but a bit nervously. ‘Oh Cool, you know, they’ve been saying that for years, and nothing’s happened. Well, haven’t they? I know in this country we treat the coloureds all like you-know-what, but we English are too lazy, son, to be violent. Anyway, you’re one of us, big boy, I mean home-grown, as much a native London kid as any of the millions, and much more so than hundreds of pure pink numbers from Ireland and abroad who’ve latched on to the Welfare thing, but don’t belong here like you do.’
My speech made no impression on Mr Cool. ‘I’m just telling you what Wilf says,’ he answered. ‘And all I know is, he likes coming here so little it must be something that makes him feel he ought to.’
‘Perhaps your mother told him to,’ I suggested, because I always like to think that someone’s female parent has maternal instincts.
He shook his head. ‘No, it was Wilf’s idea,’ he said, ‘to come.’
I looked hard at Mr Cool.
‘And if anything should happen,’ I asked, ‘whose side would your brother himself be on?’
Mr Cool blew out some smoke and said, ‘Not mine. But he felt he had to come and tell me.’
As I stood there looking at the Cool, it struck me so hard how absolutely lonely the poor fucker was – standing there all on his Pat Malone, and yet so resolute, so touch-me -if-you-dare … And the nasty question grew up also in my mind as to what I might be doing if there
So that was that, and down I went to see Big Jill.
But on the first floor landing, opposite Mr Cool’s room, I noticed the door was left open, which was a sign I know that Cool had something he’d like to say to me, but was too damn proud to ask me to step in. If it had been anyone else, I would have just let the hint he dropped there where it lay, but with the coloured boys you’ve got to be so careful, or otherwise they put it down to prejudice. So I put my head around the door, and jeepers-creepers, nearly had a fit because would you believe it, there were two Mr Cools, one coloured, and one white, or so it seemed.
‘Oh, hi,’ said Mr Cool, ‘this is my brother, Wilf.’
‘Hi, Wilf,’ I said. ‘That’s crazy!’
‘What is?’ said this Wilf.
‘You being the brother of my favourite Mr Cool. It nearly shook me rigid when I saw the pair of you.’
‘Why did it?’ said this white-skinned number, who struck me, I must say, as not being at all a swinging character like his brother – in fact, quite un -cool.
‘Wilf’s on his way,’ said Mr Cool.
‘Yem,’ said this Wilf, and ‘see you.’ And he shook hands with his brother, and went out past me with not so much as a genuflection or a curtsy.
As soon as he’d gone, I said, ‘Cool, please excuse me, but I don’t quite dig the scene. I was quite polite to your brother, wasn’t I? but he just didn’t want to know.’
Mr Cool was standing very still, and very lean, and very all-by-himself, and said, ‘My brother’s come to warn me.’
‘Of what? News me up, please.’
‘Wilf’s Mum’s by another man, as you’ll have guessed.’
‘Well … Yes … So …?’
‘He doesn’t like me much, and my friends he likes even less, specially my white ones.’
‘Charming! Why, please?’
‘Let’s not go into that. But anyway, he gets round the area and knows the scene, and he says there’s trouble coming for the coloureds.’
I laughed out loud, but a bit nervously. ‘Oh Cool, you know, they’ve been saying that for years, and nothing’s happened. Well, haven’t they? I know in this country we treat the coloureds all like you-know-what, but we English are too lazy, son, to be violent. Anyway, you’re one of us, big boy, I mean home-grown, as much a native London kid as any of the millions, and much more so than hundreds of pure pink numbers from Ireland and abroad who’ve latched on to the Welfare thing, but don’t belong here like you do.’
My speech made no impression on Mr Cool. ‘I’m just telling you what Wilf says,’ he answered. ‘And all I know is, he likes coming here so little it must be something that makes him feel he ought to.’
‘Perhaps your mother told him to,’ I suggested, because I always like to think that someone’s female parent has maternal instincts.
He shook his head. ‘No, it was Wilf’s idea,’ he said, ‘to come.’
I looked hard at Mr Cool.
‘And if anything should happen,’ I asked, ‘whose side would your brother himself be on?’
Mr Cool blew out some smoke and said, ‘Not mine. But he felt he had to come and tell me.’
As I stood there looking at the Cool, it struck me so hard how absolutely lonely the poor fucker was – standing there all on his Pat Malone, and yet so resolute, so touch-me -if-you-dare … And the nasty question grew up also in my mind as to what I might be doing if there
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