Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [16]
“We’re in the downstairs drawing room.”
The interior walls and doors of the house seemed soundproof, for nothing could be heard in the hall but the click of their feet on the tiles, yet the opposite door opened into a crowded room where couples were dancing to loud jazz. The people were the kind who visited the Elite, though the girls were more exotically dressed and Lanark noticed a few elderly men in dark business suits. He took Rima’s hand and led her onto the floor.
He couldn’t remember enjoying music before but the rhythm excited him and his body moved to it easily. He kept his eyes on Rima. Her movements were abrupt yet graceful. Her dark hair lay loosely about her shoulders, she was smiling absentmindedly. The record came to an end and each stood with an arm round the other’s waist. Lanark said, “Will we do that again?”
“Yes, why not?”
Suddenly he stared across the room, his mouth open. A table laden with food and drink stood in the curve of a bay window and a girl sat on the edge chatting to a stout spectacled man. Lanark muttered, “Who is the girl—the big blonde there in the white dress?”
“I don’t know. One of the camp followers, I suppose. Why has your face gone that colour?”
“I’ve met her before.”
“Oh?”
“Before I came here—before I came to this city. I know her face but I can’t remember anything else.”
“Does it matter?”
“How can I speak to her?”
“Ask her to dance.”
“Do you mind, Rima?”
“Why should I?”
He hurried through the crowd to the table and reached it as the music started. The girl was sipping from a glass while the stout man laughed heartily at something she had said. Lanark touched her shoulder. She set the glass down and let him lead her onto the floor. She was a vivacious girl with gaudy makeup and a rich brown tan. Lanark held her urgently and said,
“Where have I seen you before?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I couldn’t say.”
“I think I know you well.”
“I doubt it.”
“I killed you, didn’t I?”
She stepped violently back from him and said, “Oh my God!” People stopped and looked. She pointed at Lanark and said loudly, “How’s this for party conversation? We’ve just met and he asks if he killed me once. How’s that for small talk?” She turned to an onlooker (it was McPake) and said, “Take me away from that bastard.”
They joined the dance, McPake winking at Lanark as they passed him. Lanark looked desperately round for Rima, then pushed to the door, stepped outside and closed it behind him.
The hall was completely empty and silent. It was also rather cold. Lanark strolled up and down wondering what to do. He could not think why he had blurted such words to the blond girl, but he would go far to avoid anyone who had been in the room at that time, excepting Rima. Yet he had no wish to leave. His elbow itched and he wondered if a wash would cool it. There was sure to be a bathroom in the house, a tiled bathroom with clean towels warming on heated towel rails, and soap crystals, and sponges, and all the hot water he could use. There was no bathroom in his own lodgings, he had not bathed since arriving there, and now (feeling dirty inside and out) he thought a bath would be beautifully soothing. He walked to the end of the hall and climbed the softly carpeted stairs. The upper floors were in darkness and he found his way by light from the hall below. At the second landing a corridor began. Halfway along it a triangle of light was cast on the floor from an ajar door. He moved toward this, his steps silent in the thick carpet, then stopped and peeked through the narrow door-slit. A vertical ribbon of wallpaper was visible, the light on it flickering slightly. Lanark pushed the door wide and stepped through.
The room was a library illuminated by a vivid fire burning beneath a carved mantelpiece. Above surrounding bookcases hung massive portraits with antique weapons crossed on the walls between them. There were many high-backed leather armchairs, and a standard lamp with a red silk shade shone beside one with a man getting up from it. He smiled at Lanark