Read Online Before She Met Me by Julian Barnes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Julian Barnes
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Clapham, leading by a series of wide arteries to Soho, Bloomsbury, Islington and Hampstead; there would be an inflated bubble down towards Knightsbridge, and another across at Kew; while joining them up would be lots of jumbled areas with names in tiny print: Hornsey on top of Ealing and south of Stepney, the Isle of Dogs moored next to Chiswick Eyot.
Perhaps this was why women—Graham now made thesmooth generalization out from Ann—never folded maps up properly: because the overall conception of the city was unimportant to them, so that there was no ‘right order’ from which to start. All of Ann’s maps had been put away as if they’d been interrupted in mid-use. This made them more personal and, Graham suddenly realized, more threatening to him. A map, for him, once folded back into its proper order, lost its user’s stamp: it could be lent or given away without touching on any feelings of attachment. Looking at Ann’s awkwardly squashed maps with their overruled creases was like seeing a clock stopped at a certain, significant time; or—and worse, he realized—like reading her diary. Some of the maps (Paris, Salzburg, Madrid) had biro marks on them: crosses, circles, street numbers. The sudden particularities of a life previous to him. He stuffed the maps back into their place.
Later that evening he asked, in as mild and neutral a tone as he could manage,
‘Ever fancy going to India?’
‘Oh, we wouldn’t want to go there, would we?’ Ann seemed quite surprised.
‘I don’t much; I just wondered if you’d ever been interested.’
‘I think I was once, and I read up about it, but it seemed depressing, so I gave up wanting to go.’
Graham nodded. Ann looked quizzically at him; but he didn’t answer her unspoken why, and she decided not to voice it.
After that he stopped worrying about India. He worried a lot about Italy, and Los Angeles, and the South of France, and Spain and Germany, but he did at least have no cause to worry about India. There was not a single Indian in India, he reflected, who had ever seen Ann walking side by side with someone who wasn’t him. That was a solid, unshiftable fact. It left, of course, all the Indians in England, Italy, Los Angeles, the South of France, Spain and Germany, anynumber of whom might have seen her arm in arm with Benny or Chris or Lyman or Phil or whoever. But these Indians were vastly outweighed by Indian Indians, absolutely none of whom (except perhaps on an overseas holiday—now that was a thought) could ever possibly have so seen her.
India was safe. South America was safe. Japan and China were safe. Africa was safe. Europe and North America weren’t safe. When the television news came on with stories about Europe or the States, he occasionally found his attention wandering. When he read the morning paper he often skimmed the unsafe areas of the world; but since he still allowed the same amount of time for the paper as before, he gradually found himself knowing a lot more about India and Africa than he ever needed, or indeed wanted, to know. Quite without any serious inquisitiveness he managed to acquire a thorough familiarity with Indian politics. He knew about Japan too. In the departmental common room he found himself turning to Bailey, a scruffy gerontologist who had wandered in by mistake, and saying,
‘Did you see that Narita airport lost sixteen million pounds in its first four months of operation?’ To which Bailey had replied interestedly,
‘Male menopause already?’
On his afternoons alone at the house, Graham found himself more and more on the lookout for evidence. Sometimes he wasn’t sure what constituted evidence; and sometimes, in the course of his forays, he wondered whether he didn’t secretly enjoy finding that proof which he told himself he feared and hated. The effect of his driven searches was to re-acquaint himself with almost all of Ann’s possessions; only now he saw them in a different, more tainted light.
He
Perhaps this was why women—Graham now made thesmooth generalization out from Ann—never folded maps up properly: because the overall conception of the city was unimportant to them, so that there was no ‘right order’ from which to start. All of Ann’s maps had been put away as if they’d been interrupted in mid-use. This made them more personal and, Graham suddenly realized, more threatening to him. A map, for him, once folded back into its proper order, lost its user’s stamp: it could be lent or given away without touching on any feelings of attachment. Looking at Ann’s awkwardly squashed maps with their overruled creases was like seeing a clock stopped at a certain, significant time; or—and worse, he realized—like reading her diary. Some of the maps (Paris, Salzburg, Madrid) had biro marks on them: crosses, circles, street numbers. The sudden particularities of a life previous to him. He stuffed the maps back into their place.
Later that evening he asked, in as mild and neutral a tone as he could manage,
‘Ever fancy going to India?’
‘Oh, we wouldn’t want to go there, would we?’ Ann seemed quite surprised.
‘I don’t much; I just wondered if you’d ever been interested.’
‘I think I was once, and I read up about it, but it seemed depressing, so I gave up wanting to go.’
Graham nodded. Ann looked quizzically at him; but he didn’t answer her unspoken why, and she decided not to voice it.
After that he stopped worrying about India. He worried a lot about Italy, and Los Angeles, and the South of France, and Spain and Germany, but he did at least have no cause to worry about India. There was not a single Indian in India, he reflected, who had ever seen Ann walking side by side with someone who wasn’t him. That was a solid, unshiftable fact. It left, of course, all the Indians in England, Italy, Los Angeles, the South of France, Spain and Germany, anynumber of whom might have seen her arm in arm with Benny or Chris or Lyman or Phil or whoever. But these Indians were vastly outweighed by Indian Indians, absolutely none of whom (except perhaps on an overseas holiday—now that was a thought) could ever possibly have so seen her.
India was safe. South America was safe. Japan and China were safe. Africa was safe. Europe and North America weren’t safe. When the television news came on with stories about Europe or the States, he occasionally found his attention wandering. When he read the morning paper he often skimmed the unsafe areas of the world; but since he still allowed the same amount of time for the paper as before, he gradually found himself knowing a lot more about India and Africa than he ever needed, or indeed wanted, to know. Quite without any serious inquisitiveness he managed to acquire a thorough familiarity with Indian politics. He knew about Japan too. In the departmental common room he found himself turning to Bailey, a scruffy gerontologist who had wandered in by mistake, and saying,
‘Did you see that Narita airport lost sixteen million pounds in its first four months of operation?’ To which Bailey had replied interestedly,
‘Male menopause already?’
On his afternoons alone at the house, Graham found himself more and more on the lookout for evidence. Sometimes he wasn’t sure what constituted evidence; and sometimes, in the course of his forays, he wondered whether he didn’t secretly enjoy finding that proof which he told himself he feared and hated. The effect of his driven searches was to re-acquaint himself with almost all of Ann’s possessions; only now he saw them in a different, more tainted light.
He
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