CHAPTER 59
They had barely fastened their seat belts on the flight back to London when Eddie leaned towards Isobel and whispered. “I want to apologise for something.”
“Don’t tell me, Eddie. Did you forgot to collect your laundry again? Is that why you’re still wearing shorts? Won’t you find it cold in London?”
Eddie checked his bare knees and tried pulling the legs of his shorts down a fraction but the seat belt was in the way. “No,” he said, “it’s more important than that. I’m embarrassed.”
“You’ve never shown signs of embarrassment before. Why start now?”
“It’s personal.”
“So is personal hygiene, social etiquette and dress sense.”
“But telling lies is worse,” he replied.
“Lies, Eddie? I don’t believe it. You are the least likely to tell lies. Outspoken directness, fearlessness, rudeness. No-one with those characteristics needs to tell lies.”
Eddie thought about that. The plane was taxiing ready for take-off. Isobel was looking out of the window so he touched her arm and she turned. “I’m very sorry,” he said, “It was my state of mind.”
“No need to apologise, Eddie. Anyone could have mistaken it for talcum powder.”
“No, no,” he said. “I’m referring to my state of mind when I said I’d been burgled.”
“Burgled? Oh, you mean the break in at your house?”
Eddie nodded and Isobel turned to the window again. The plane was gathering speed down the runway. “I told Mark it was someone from Vital Cosmetics.”
“You told me that, also.”
Eddie nudged her arm again. “But it’s not true,” he said.
The nose of the plane rose into the sky, the jet engines roared and Isobel turned to face him.
“I was blaming everything out of the ordinary on other people, not pointing the finger at myself,” he said. “I didn’t lose my nuts either. Or all of the genetically different krabok trees. We can save them.”
“So, what did you lose, Eddie?”
“My common sense. My memory. I mislaid my nuts but found them in the downstairs loo.”
“And the chewing gum?”
“You were right. It was the postman. Every day he spits his gum at next door’s dog because the dog barks at him. “
“And the computer files?”
“I left the CD tray open.”
Isobel glanced away as if she half expected it.
“I’m too willing to blame others for my weaknesses because I’m too focussed on work and day to day matters.”
“Living alone can do that,” Isobel said as if she knew something “There’s no need to be embarrassed. And it’s not what I’d call lies.”
“So, what is it?”
“It’s something you told me you never do but, in fact, you do. That’s your lie. You try to bring attention to yourself,” Isobel said. “You want someone to care enough to notice you.”
“Do I?” Eddie replied.
“Living alone you have no-one to point out your weaknesses, your ridiculous obsessions, your forgetfulness, your occasional stupidity and your irritating habits such as your untidiness and your impatience towards others. It can lead to false accusations, even private vendettas.”
“Really?”
“Definitely. How long were you married?”
“A year.”
“For a woman that was more than long enough. to draw conclusions. She drew a line and you crossed it.”
“So quickly?”
“Oh yes. These days life’s too busy to be hamstrung by miserable incompatibilities. People quickly become impatient, I’m afraid.”
“That’s unforgiveable.”
“Maybe, but so is jumping to inaccurate conclusions. Living as you do, you don’t have the checks and balances you get from a relationship so you jump to irrational conclusions and if you are a particularly obstinate person – which you are - you refuse to listen to other views or see other, more reasonable explanations for things you don’t understand or don’t like.”
“I do?”
“Most certainly.” Isobel turned away.
As the plane hurtled upwards through low cloud Eddie’s thoughts turned to what Mel had said to him in Bristol when he’d mentioned his lost nuts.
“So, what’s the problem with losing a few nuts?” he’d said, and Eddie had replied, jokingly he thought, “I needed a friendly ear, Mel. Someone with a soft shoulder and a dry tissue.”
And Mel then said. “Come now, Huggs. Be brave. It’s only nuts.”
Mel was a friend; Mel was worried and Mel cared. Mel was being rational.
“I spoke to a commercial crime investigator,” Eddie had said.
“About a bag of bloody nuts?” Mel had yelled.
Eddie nudged Isobel’s arm again. “Is that what cosmetics are, Isobel? “
“What are you talking about, Eddie?”
“Are cosmetics a quick and easy route to bringing attention to yourself because you need someone to care enough to notice you?”
“Of course, Eddie.” She glanced at his bony, white knees and added: “That and the clothes we wear.”
“So, it’s a weakness.”
“Of course. I thought we’d already agreed that.”
“And is it always necessary to look younger than you really are?”
The view through the window was obviously not as interesting now and Isobel looked back at Eddie, paused and said, “Do you want me to very frank, Eddie?”
“Yes, please.”
“Speaking as a woman, looking young and healthy with all the essential body parts smelling sweetly and in all the right places and in all the right proportions is deemed essential for attracting a mate. It’s sex.”
“Oh, my goodness.”
“Yes, it’s all pretty basic, Eddie. I’m surprised that a professor of biology could ever fail to understand it. But did we not just agree that you are a mere human and prone to jump to unscientific and irrational conclusions?”
“We did.”
“Then are your obsessions, the conclusions you draw and the actions you take about other people and the companies they run not just plain and simple, private vendettas? Anger, in fact, directed at those you have simply failed to understand?” She paused. “Or refused to understand?”
“Oh no, no,” Eddie argued, “Take the destruction of the environment for instance.”
“Eddie, please. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to discuss that subject for the moment. Stick to what we’re discussing.”
“Of course, but…I had never thought of my opinions as vendettas. Vendettas seems so personal, Isobel, like a family feud, a quarrel, as if I’m seeking vengeance. Obsessions perhaps but not vendettas.”
“Vendettas are the actions taken, Eddie, not the irrational obsessions that lie behind them”
“Ah yes. Of course.”
He was silent for a while as he contemplated this sudden enlightenment. At one point, Isobel glanced at him. His lower lip was moving as if he was practicing his next set of opinions. She was still watching him when the words finally escaped.
“Observation, Isobel. It was simple observation that led me to an opinion that something was wrong at Vital and then to act.”
“For which I’m grateful, Eddie. But what I’m saying is that your observations sometimes cause you to draw wrong conclusions and then you become the most quarrelsome man I’ve ever met. You seek to change the way people think, the way they behave and even the way they look. Is that not a form of vengeance?”
Eddie couldn’t see a problem with that. If change was necessary but didn’t happen voluntarily then it needed to be forced. “But I am a scientist. I seek facts by observation. I analyse what I observe and only then do I draw conclusions and act.”
“Oh, I’m sure you observe, analyse and understand your botanical specimens and your fungi and the results on your clever spectrograph machine, Eddie, but in the case of human nature you act before fully analysing and understanding their most basic emotions and most fundamental desires. You jump straight to conclusions with cold facts that you claim are scientifically sound. Wo betide anyone who disagrees with your cold conclusions.”
“Cold? Scientific facts are not cold, Isobel. They are the closest you get to the warmth of total comprehension. Ignore them at your peril.”
Isobel smiled.
“Eddie, you are a quite impossible man. You started this discussion and yet, already, you are not listening to me. The scientific fact, you obstinate man, is that people have feelings and emotions which, like it or not, can seem irrational to you. To you. Got it? You, yourself, are irrational for goodness sake. You are obsessed. Eddie. Obsessed by the belief that your views are the only ones that will stand up to rational criticism. Your opinions develop into vendettas because you do not consider other people’s private feelings and emotions. We are humans, Eddie. Even you are a human, in case you’ve forgotten it. Feelings are not necessarily explicable even by a bloody Oxford university professor.”
That shook Eddie. Isobel had never sworn before. He pondered on the outburst for a few seconds. “Is that a fact-based opinion, Isobel, or just an emotional outburst?”
“It’s a bloody fact. Now be quiet.”
Lunch was served, drinks were brought around and Eddie was feeling drowsy but his mind was too full to sleep. Occasionally he glanced at Isobel sitting alongside him in the window seat. She was wearing her deep blue suit with the short skirt. He could smell her perfume. If she moved, Eddie would look away, but then he’d glance back at her to marvel at her neat black hair style, the immaculate eye make-up, her flawless white skin and the painted nails which, today, were a delicate shade of pink.
He glanced down at his own white knees and pulled the leg of his shorts just a little lower. He really should have changed, he decided, and Isobel was right about his unpreparedness for London weather. The captain had announced that the weather in London was expected to be cool, cloudy and overcast so why hadn’t he thought of it? Prepared himself better. Not that he’d had much choice – he’d only brought one pair of long trousers for jungle exploration.
He thought about Buss.
He’d called him just before checking out of the hotel. “Give me a month or so, Buss. I’ll be back. I got a bit distracted this time.”
Buss hadn’t seemed to mind. “That tea and coffee,” he’d said. “It wasn’t tea or coffee. It was methamphetamine tablets in tea and coffee packs.”
Eddie again looked at Isobel. She was still sitting upright, staring out of the window. There wasn’t much to see - just a clear blue sky above and clouds thousands of feet below. She seemed deep in thought and Eddie guessed what it was. He touched her arm and she turned.
“What happens to Vital Cosmetics now?” he asked.
“That’s what I’m thinking about Eddie. When we arrive, Kathrine is meeting me off the plane. When we spoke on the phone, she seemed relieved. She was not upset about Peter. Quite the opposite, in fact. I didn’t know but, apparently, he’s been taking drugs and drinking heavily for years. She told Colin Asher that she’d speak to each of the Vital Cosmetic directors first thing this morning.”
Isobel looked at her watch. “That’s about now, I suppose. She’ll be asking them to resign even if they are found to be unaware of what was going on at Easy Trading. With Peter’s death, Kathrine will, once again, become the biggest shareholder so she and I will own most of the business. KRJ Capital will cease trading. It’ll take a while to sort out but it’ll mean we can, at last, make big changes with Vital Cosmetics.”
“Good,” Eddie said. He looked at her and smiled and then plucked up courage to touch her hand. His courage grew. “Can I take you to lunch again when we get back, Isobel?”
She glanced at his hand and then at his unshaven but smiling face. Eddie had smiled a lot in the last few days. “Yes, why not, Eddie.”
“Thank you. There’s a lot I’ve got to say to you, Isobel. I wanted to tell you last time but we ran out of time.”
Oh, God, Isobel thought and turned away to consider. Eddie waited. “If it’s anything like...” she began but Eddie interrupted her.
“Be patient with me, Isobel,” Eddie said holding her hand more firmly. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m only human. My thoughts, opinions and feelings can be quite irrational at times.”
Isobel looked at him. His face bore an unusual expression and Isobel wondered what he wanted to say. Was he trying to be humorous or what? She felt his hand tighten its grip even more. “What is it, Eddie?”
“I’m getting quite excited,” Eddie replied.
“Are you?” Isobel said. “What exactly have you got in mind?”
“Krabok nuts,” Eddie said.
“Krabok nuts?”
Isobel felt him remove his hand and use it instead to rub the grey stubble on his cheeks. “Krabok seed oil has a long history in south-east Asian village life for medicinal purposes.”
Isobel looked at him, expectedly.
“But there’s been very little in depth scientific investigation on krabok nut oil,” he went on after taking a deep breath. “It’s even been in folk lore as a cure for drunkenness, given by Buddhist monks and so on. Quite ridiculous, of course. In that respect it’s on a par with the claims made for western cosmetics but…”
Eddie had a plastic cup of orange juice on the folding table in front of him and, absentmindedly, he took a sip of what was left. Isobel waited. This wasn’t what she’d expected when Eddie had, moments ago, held her hand and told her he felt excited. She now willed him to continue.
“A year ago,” he went on, staring into the now empty plastic cup, “We detected a rather unique component in the nuts which, I think, would compete with so-called anti-ageing creams.” He looked at Isobel.
“Like the matrikines in night cream you so derided?” Isobel asked.
“Similar,” Eddie stalled. “It’s not a peptide but an interesting molecule that would penetrate epidermal cell tissue and…” He stopped again.
“Go on, Eddie. I’m intrigued.”
Isobel smiled at him and found herself putting her hand on his but he didn’t seem to notice.
“It’ll never halt the ageing process, of course,” he said. “To suggest that a face cream can do that is criminal, but the chemistry looks interesting and is not known by other cosmetics companies. The extraction process would be worth patenting and then, mixed with harmless, well tested and environmentally sound ingredients such as simple lanolin I think it could be very marketable. Simple, uncomplicated and free of outrageous claims, Isobel.”
Isobel smiled. “That’s exactly what I’ve decided we need, Eddie. Vital Simplicity: A new range of simple, safe and effective products. Simple ingredients in simple packaging and all approved by a simple, obstinate, argumentative but really quite likeable Oxford university professor. What do you think?”
“Good idea, Isobel, but let’s not get too obsessed. I’ll still take a lot of convincing about the vanity business. If someone would renounce cosmetic surgery as a sin, I might at last think we were moving forwards.”
“Oh, Eddie. Don’t start again. Try some enthusiasm. Didn’t you tell me you’d written one of your amusing poems about someone wanting cosmetic surgery.”
“I did but I doubt you’d find it amusing.”
“We’ve got ten hours before we arrive, Eddie. Tell me. If I don’t like it you can write another. How about that?”
Eddie pulled his half-moon spectacles onto his nose, scratched his rough, grey stubble with the bony fingers of his blue-veined hand and looked at the delicate white hand with the shiny pink nails that was now holding his own. He didn’t move it but sniffed self-consciously.
“You really won’t like it, you know,” he said uneasily.
Isobel shrugged. “Go on. Try me.”
“Do you want the short version or the long one?”
“Start with the short one, Eddie,” she smiled and Eddie was sure she winked. “If I like it you can then try the longer one.”
Eddie bit his lip and took a deep breath. “For reciting this I usually don a white jacket and borrow a stethoscope,” he said shyly.
“No socks? No sandals? You remove everything for one live performance?”
“Yes. I mean no.”
“What is it about, Eddie?”
“It’s about a young woman who wants cosmetic surgery,” he said.
Isobel leaned towards him. “Come on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure.”
“It goes like this,” he said. “You must imagine me reciting it sitting on a spot-lit stool on the stage at the Ship in Bristol with my glasses and a white coat on and a borrowed stethoscope hanging over my shoulder. Can you do that?”
Isobel closed her eyes. “Oh, yes. Very easily.”
“Then perhaps we could attend Poets Night together one evening?”
“That sounds fun, Eddie.”
“And I’ve already explained to the audience to imagine my patient – a young woman who is dreadfully upset. She’s been crying every night for months about her appearance. She’s terribly depressed.”
“OK, I can definitely see her.”
“She complained to me that her figure was not what it used to be – it had gone to pot. Her nose was too long and her face was wrong. Her bust was too small and that wasn’t all. Her legs were too fat and her bottom was flat. Her arms were like sticks and extremely thin. She suffered terribly from wrinkled skin. Her eyes were too grey, her hair too brown and her forehead wore a permanent frown.”
Eddie stopped, already utterly embarrassed.
“Is that it?”
“No. There’s a lot more. Are you interested?”
“Go on, Eddie. Please.”
“She listed all these characteristics, provided the facts and many statistics. Her conclusion was that she felt too plain and so utterly depressed she was going insane. She said she wanted to start again.”
“What happened? Why have you stopped?”
“Shall I continue?”
“Of course. I’m enjoying it. Just get on with it.”
“So, I sighed and looked at this miserable sight, saddened by her pitiful plight. But in her hand were magazines, glossy pictures for pop idol teens. So, I said to her: If you think you’re plain then think again. Plain is good. Plain means straightforward. Plain speech is strength. So, value your strengths and be true to yourself. Try to believe and aim to achieve. Those photos are only there to deceive.”
Eddie paused again but his confidence was growing and Isobel was definitely listening. He continued:
“So, I took from her that magazine, flipped the pages and looked inside, at coloured photos and snappy lines, dreamed up by youths with business minds. Slim-line models, white teeth, red lips, bottle-browned bodies with slender hips. Fleeting smiles as the cameras clicked. Fashion dress, cool and hip, weak on intellectual contribution, short on reason and sensibility. Just full of visual stimulation.
“I glanced up from my fleeting scan as she sat there with eyes cast down and I said to her, in the kindest way: You are, my dear, a classic case, of celebrity cult depression. A sickness of a modern sort – an addiction to creating a false impression. I looked at her across my specs, wondering what this sort expects, by coming in here to seek advice from someone as gross as I must look. Old, decrepit, senile to book, a dowdy specimen of ugly manliness whose hair has going and looked a mess.
“So, I said to her: “Do you want to be like that? A false identity, an empty folly made up like a plastic dolly. You must pull yourself together, dear. Accept your little faults. For God has made us all so queer. It’s his small joke upon us folk, so he can sit and leer.”
Eddie stopped again and looked at Isobel.
She wasn’t laughing or even smiling but she was obviously listening intently with her eyes closed and, for some strange reason, still holding his hand. Eddie felt hot and more nervous than he’d ever been when performing this nonsense on the stage.
She opened her eyes and looked at him expectantly with her big brown eyes and black eyelashes and whispered quietly, through her shiny red lips. “Is that it, Eddie?”
Eddie shook his head. “Not quite,” he said.
But his confidence of just a few minutes ago had evaporated. Instead, he felt deeply embarrassed. This so-called poetry produced raucous laughter in a room full of heavy beer drinkers but now it felt like strings of scribbled words that fed off prejudice and the odd ways of others, like this poor woman patient of his imagination.
Was Isobel only holding his hand because she felt sorry for him?
Eddie now felt as if he had, for years, been mocking others - their flaws, habits, desires, emotions and weaknesses but was it, instead, a sign of a flaw in his own character?
Should he not have abandoned this ageing, whining, prejudiced and unfunny character called Huggy a long time ago? Left him behind, euthanized him, buried him and forgotten him?
Huggy had had his time. Forty years ago, Huggy had tried to change attitudes, to influence society, to challenge the way things were, but Huggy was really Professor Edward James Higgins, so-called Eddie, who sat day in, day out, looking down a microscope, checking print-outs, writing reports, cultivating moulds in petri dishes and writing accusatory letters and depressing articles that changed nothing.
Look at Isobel. he said to himself. Alive, vibrant, optimistic, positive, full of plans and well, let’s be frank, attractive in her clothes, perfume, cosmetics and make-up. And now take a look at yourself. He glanced at his bare, white knees.
“Are you alright, Eddie”
“No,” he said. “I’ve decided to stop writing poetry. It’s too embarrassing.”
“That would be a pity, Eddie. It’s thought provoking if nothing else. What else can we simple humans do but listen to the silly words of others, ignore them as the rantings of a fool or feel inspired and enlightened.”
She paused, leaned closer and now held his hand with both of hers.
“We’ve talked a lot in the last few days, Eddie, and I’ve ignored some of it as utter nonsense coming from someone who doesn’t necessarily understand the modern world, in particular women. But you’re also an inspiration. You’ve taught me so much.
“It was you who saw problems at Vital and you were right to be suspicious. Did that stem from your inbuilt dislike and suspicion of what you call the unseemly vanity industry? If so, never mind. Your suspicions were spot on. Look what we uncovered. We could not have done any of that without you.
“But we all do things we feel embarrassed about because we’re all a bit odd, Eddie. In your case I think you just need to lighten up and stop being so negative about your fellow humans. Rid yourself of all those obsessions until you’ve gathered the evidence and listened to more views. Then you can act. Then you can feel free to start on another vendetta. And another thing. Look after yourself, smarten up and get out of your laboratory a bit more.”
She was right, of course, Eddie decided.
He, too, had learned a lot about himself in the last few weeks. He should definitely smarten himself up, get out more and try to be more understanding. Mel had been saying it for years but it was good to be told to his face by Isobel. Perhaps he could start by buying a suit. And a tie. And a pair of sensible shoes.
“How does that silly poem end?” Isobel asked.
“The patient doesn’t agree with the doctor,” he replied.
“You see? So, in your poem you granted her the right of reply and the power to disagree. Good. Quite right too. What does she say?”
“She gets up and walks out. Then she turns and says: ‘Better I look like a street-walking tart than look like you, you stupid old ….’”
Isobel looked at Eddie for a moment, suddenly realised what rhymed with tart, put her hand over her mouth and laughed out loud. Then, to Eddie’s shock she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I think you’re just a loveable old romantic at heart, Professor Eddie Higgins,” she said.
Eddie almost choked. “I see the toilets are vacant at last,” he said. “I think I’ll smarten myself up and change my socks. Would you excuse me? “