Triple (25 page)

Ken Folleff

that the other diners in the place were of all ages, for he had been a

little afraid he might be the oldest man in sight.

They sat down, and Dickstein said, "Do you bring all your young men hereT'

Suza gave him a cold smile, 'Thats the first witless thing you've said."

"I stand corrected." He wanted to kick himself.

She said, "What do you like to eat?" and the moment passed.

"At home I eat a lot of plain, wholesome, communal food. When I'm away I

live in hotels, where I get junk tricked out as haute cuisine. What I like

is the kind of food you don't get in either sort of place: roast leg of

lamb, steak and kidney pudding, Lancashire hot-pot"

"What I Eke about you," she grinned, "is that you have no idea whatsoever

about what is trendy and what isnl; and furthermore you don't give a damn."

He touched his lapels. "You don't like the suit7"

"I love it," she said. "It must have been out-of-date when you bought it."

He decided on roast beef from the trolley, and she had some kind of saut6ed

liver which she ate with enormous relish. He ordered a bottle of Burgundy:

a more delicate wine would not have gone well with the liver. His knowledge

of wine was the only polite accomplishment he possessed. Still, he let her

drink most of it: his appetites were small.

She told him about the time she took I.M. "It was quite unforgettable. I

could feel my whole body, inside and out. I could hear my heart. My skin

felt wonderful when I touched it. And the colors, of everything ... Still,

the question is, did the drug show me amazing things, or did it just make

me amazed? Is it a new way of seeing the world, or does it merely

synthesize the sensations you would have if you really saw the world in a

new way?"

"You didn't need more of it, afterwards?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't relish losing control of myself to that

extent. But rm. glad I know what irs like."

"That's what I hate about getting drunk-the loss of selfpossession.

Although I'm sure it's not in the same league. At any rate, the couple of

times I've been drunk I haven't felt I've found the key to the universe!'

She made a dismissing gesture with her hand. it was a 140

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long, slender hand, just like Efla!s; and suddenly Dickstein remembered

Eila making exactly the same graceful gesture. Suza said, "I don't believe

in drugs as the solution to the world's problems."

"What do you believe in. Suzar'

She hesitated, looking at him, smiling faintly. "I believe that all you

need is love." Her tone was a little defensive, as if she anticipated

scom

~ "Tbat philosophy is more likely to appeal to a swinging Londoner than

an embattled Israeli:'

"I guess there's no point In tying to convert you~"

"I should be so lucky."

She looked into his eyes. "You never know your luck~"

He looked down at the menu and said, "It's got to be strawberries."

Suddenly, she said, "rell me who you love, Nathaniel."

"An old woman, a child and a ghosV' he said immediately, for he had been

asking himself the same question. 'The old woman is called Esther, and

she remembers the pogroms in Czarist Russia. The child is a boy called

Mottle. He likes Treasure Island His father died in the Six-Day War~"

And the ghostT'

"You will have some strawberries?"

"Yes, please."

"CreamV

"No, thanks. You're not going to tell me about the ghost are YOU?"

"As soon as I know, you'll know."

It was June, and the strawberries were perfect. Dickstein said, "Now tell

me who you love."

"Well," she said, and then she thought for a minute. "Well

She put down her spoon. "Oh, shit, Nathaniel, I think I iov~ YOU.99

Her first thought was: What the hell has got into me? Why did I say that?

Then she thought: I don't care, it's true.

And finally: But why do I love him?

- She did not know why, but she knew when. There had been two occasions

when she had been able to look inside him and see the real Dickstein: once

when he spoke about the London Fascists in the Thirties, and once when he

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Ken Folleff

tioned the boy whose father had been killed in the Six-Day War. Both times

he had dropped his mask. She had expected to see a small, frightened man,

cowering in a corner. In fact, he had appeared to be strong, confident and

determined. At those moments she could sense his strength as if it were a

powerful scent. It made her feel a little dizzy.

The man was weird, intriguing and powerful. She wanted to get close to him,

to understand his mind, to know his secret thoughts. She wanted to touch

his bony body, and feel his strong hands grasping her, and look into his

sad brown eyes when he cried out in passion. She wanted his love.

It had never been like this for her before.

Nat Dickstein knew it was all wrong.

Suza had formed an attachment to him when she was five years old and he was

a kind grown-up who knew how to talk to children and cats. Now he was

exploiting that childhood affection.

He had loved Eila, who had died. There was something unhealthy about his

relationship with her look-alike daughter.

He was not just a Jew, but an Israeli; not just an Israeli, but a Mossad

agent. He of all people could not love a girt who was half Arab.

Whenever a beautiful girl falls in love with a spy, the spy is obliged to

ask himself which enemy intelligence service she might be working for.

Over the years, each time a woman had become fond of Dickstein, he had

found reasons like these for being cool to her, and sooner or later she had

understood and gone away disappointed; and the fact that Suza bad

outmaneuvered his subconscious by being too quick for his defenses was just

another reason to be suspicious.

It was all wrong.

But Dickstein did not care.

,They took a taxi to the flat where she planned to stay the night. She

invited him in-her friends, the owners of the flat, were away on

holiday-and they went to bed together, and that was when their problems

began.

At first Suza thought he was going to be too eagerly paisionate when,

standing in the little hallway, he gripped her arms and kissed her roughly,

and when he groaned, "Oh,

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God," as she took his hands and placed them on her breasts. There flashed

through her mind the cynical thought: I've seen this act before, he is so

overcome by my beauty that he practically rapes me, and five minutes after

getting into bed he is fast asleep and snoring. Then she pulled away from

his kiss and looked into his soft, big, brown eyes, and she thought:

Whatever happens, it won't be an act

She led him into the little single bedroom at the back of the flat,

overlooking the courtyard. She stayed here so often that it was regarded

as her room; indeed some of her clothes were in the wardrobe and the

drawers. She sat on the edge of the single bed and took off her shoes.

Dickstein stood in the doorway, watching. She looked up at him and

smiled. "Undress," she said.

He turned out the light.

She was intrigued: it ran through her like the first tingle of a cannabis

high. What was he really like? He was a Cockney, but an Israeli; he was

a middle-aged schoolboy; a thin rnsin as strong as a horse; a little,

gauche and nervous superficially, but confident and oddly powerful

underneath. What did a man like that do in bed?

She got in beneath the sheet, curiously touched that he wanted to make

love in the dark. He got in beside her and kissed her, gently this time.

She. ran her hands over his hard, bony body, and opened her mouth to his

kisses. After a moInentarY hesitation, he responded; and she guessed he

had not kissed like that befom or at least not for a long time.

He touched her tenderly now, with his fingertips, exploring, and he said

"Ohl" with a sense of wonder in his voice when he found her nipple taut.

His caresses had none of the facile expertise so familiar to her from

previous affairs: be, was like - - - well, he was -like a virgin. The

thought made her smile in the darkness.

"Your breasts am beautiful," he said.

"So are yours," she said, touching them.

The magic began to work, and she became immersed in sensation: the

roughness of his skin, the hair on his legs, the faint masculine smell

Of him. Then, suddenly, she sensed a change in him. There was no apparent

reason for it, and for a Moment she wondered if she might be imagining

it, for he continued to caress her;7 but she knew that now it was

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Ken F614H

mechanical. he was thinking of something else, she had lost him.

She was about to speak of it when he withdrew his hands and said "It's

not working. I can't do it."

She felt panic, and fought it down. She was frightened, not for

herself-You've known enough stiff pricks in your time, girl, not to

mention a few UmP ones,-but for him, for his reaction, in case he should

be defeated or ashamed and-

She put both arms around him and held him tightly, saying, "Whatever you

do, please don't go away."

.61 wonlt.99

She wanted to put the, light on, to see his face, but it seemed like the

wrong thing to do right now. She pressed her cheek against his chest.

"Have you got a wife somewhere?"

"No."

She put Gut her tongue and tasted his skin. "I just think you might feel

guilty about something. Like, me being half an Arab?"

"I don't think so."

"Or, me being Efla Ashford's daughter? You loved her, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"From the way you talked about her."

Oh. Well, I don't think I feel guilty about that, but I could be wrong,

doctor."

"Mmm." He was coming out of his shell. She kissed his chest. "Will you

tell me sbraething?"

"I expect so."

"When did you last have sex?"

"Nineteen forty-four.,'

"You're kidding!" she said, genuinely astonished.

"I"hat's the first witless thing you've said."

"I ... you're right, I'm sorry." She hesitated. "But why?"

He sighed. "I can't ... rm not able to talk about it."

"But you must." She reached out to the bedside lamp and tamed on the

light. Dick9ein closed his eyes against the glare. Suza propped herself

up on one elbow. "Listen," she said, "there are no rules. We're

grown-ups, we're naked in bed, and this is nineteen sixty-eight: nothing

is wrong, it's whatever turns you on."

"There isn't anything." His eyes were still closed.

"And there are no secrets. If you're frightened or disgusted

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or inflamed, you can say so, and you must I've never said 'I love you'

before tonight, Nat Speak to me, please.1%

There was a long silence. He lay stiff, impassive, eyes closed. At last

he began to talk.

"I didn't know where I was-still don't I was taken there in a cattle

truck, and in those days I coul(Wt tell one country from another by the

landscape. It was a special camp, a me& ical research center. The

prisoners were selected from other camps. We were all young, healthy and

Jewish.

"Conditions were better than in the first camp I was at. We had food,

blankets, cigarettes; there was no thieving, no fightIng. At fint I

thought I had struck lucky. There were lots of tests--blood, urine, blow

into this tube, catch this ball, read the letters on the card. It was

like being in a hospital. Then the experiments began.

'To this day I don't know whether there was any real scientific curiosity

behind itA mean, if somebody did those things with animals, I could see

that it might be, you know, quite interesting, quite revealing. On the

other hand, the dootors must have been insane. I don't know." '

He stopped, and swallowed. It was becoming more difficult for him to

speak calmly. Suza whispered, "You must tell me what

happened-everything."

He was pale, and his voice was very low. Still he kept his eyes shut.

"They took me to this laboratory. The guards who escorted me kept winking

and nudging and telling me I was glikkIlch-lucky. It was a big room with

a low ceiling and very bright lights. There were six or seven of them

there, with a movie. camera. In the middle of the room was a low bed with

a mattress on it, no sheets. There was a woman on the mattress. They told

me to fuck her. She was naked, and shivering-she was a prisoner too. She

whispered to me, 'You save my life and I'll save yours.' And then we did

it. But that was only the beginning."

Suza ran her hand over his loins and found his penis taut. Now she

understood. She stroked him, gently at first, and waited for him to go

on-4or she knew that now he would tell all of the story.

"After that they did variations on the experiment. Every day for months,

there was something. Drugs, sometimes. An old woman. A man, once.

Intercourse in different posttions-standing up, sitting, everything. Oral

sex, anal sex,

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