Ways and Means (10 page)

‘The usual,’ said Nicholas. ‘Just before we left she called Petula into her bedroom. Tell them, Petula.’

‘ “I shall be dead soon,” she said,’ continued Petula.

‘ “You mustn’t say such things,” I said.

‘ “Why not indeed? Isn’t it what everyone wants to know? I don’t mean you, dear. You’re the only one who’s really fond of me and isn’t after my money.”

‘I gulped something in reply.

‘ “But all the others. Riff-raff. I’m leaving everyone — what d’you think? — a whistle. All except you, I mean. You are different. I want you to have something to remember me by — something you’ll really like, and then in the winter evenings long after I’m gone you’ll be able to sit back and say: “She wasn’t such a bad old aunt after all.”

‘ “Oh, auntie,” I said. “I don’t want anything.”

‘ “It isn’t much, my child,” she went on. “Just your uncle’s old travelling rug. Belonged to his father, I believe. I don’t want it to leave the family.”

‘I ought to have been warned by the “winter evenings”.

‘ “I know you don’t want my money,” she went on. “That’s what I like about you. So I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do with it. No one else knows. It’s all going for a fund to stop Mr Shaw’s new alphabet. I think that would have amused him. It ought to keep a lot of people busy. All his money trying to build up something; all mine trying to knock it down. Good old Shaw. I liked his Too True to be Good, didn’t you?”

‘She took me aside,’ went on Nicholas, ‘just before we left. “My boy,” she said, “can you keep a secret?” I hadn’t heard what she’d said to Petula, so I pricked up my ears. “I’m putting something in this purse, but you’re not to say anything to Petula. I want you to get her something really nice from me when you get home. It’s to be a surprise.”

‘Ten shillings, I suppose,’ said Basil.

‘It was a cheque for £500, but in the place for the signature she’d just put “Whistle”.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Basil. ‘That only proves, as I’m always saying, that the only way to make money is to work for it. Now, listen to this. Let’s all have a drink first.’

‘You’ll need it,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You don’t know what I’ve been through.’ She walked up to Petula, examined her face critically and said gravely: ‘The quality of the paint.’ Then she added: ‘Don’t worry. There’s worse to come. Look at him. He glows. Come over here. You can see it better; the Defence Bonds don’t get in the way.’

‘What is all this?’ said Nicholas.

‘It started in a tea-shop,’ began Basil. ‘I’ve not mentioned it before, as I wanted to think about it first. It’s a gamble, if you like, but it’s worth it — I think so, anyway.’

‘He shines,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Think of a pearl necklace, add a new hat, take away a picture and you’re back where you started. He’s been like this all this afternoon.’

‘Patience,’ said Basil. ‘I was eating baked beans on toast. A man sat opposite me with a roll and a cup of cocoa. He appeared to look enviously at my baked beans.’

‘I can’t think why,’ said Nicholas, ‘unless he was very hungry.’

‘As it turned out, he was — very. He had a beard and a certain amount of dirt, but nothing edible — except, of course, the roll. He made short work of that. At first his constant following of the baked beans into my mouth annoyed me. Then it began to fascinate. We watched each other. He watched my knife and fork preparing each mouthful and I watched him watching. I even played a few tricks with him, such as lifting up the loaded fork and then pretending it wasn’t safe and putting it down again for rearrangement. All the time, of course, I was watching his eyes, as they moved with my fork. I felt a little like a snake-charmer. I believe I almost mesmerized him. Then, suddenly, I spoke. I just couldn’t help it. I heard the words come out of my mouth.

‘ “Want a bit?” I said.

‘ “D’you mean that?” was the rather unexpected reply. I had no idea whether I meant it or not. You know what a passion I have for the truth. So I hesitated. Before I could answer, he went on.

‘ “I often get as far as this,” he said, “but they don’t mean it. They just laugh and go on eating. That makes it worse.”

‘ “D’you mean to say that you’re so hungry you want some of my baked beaus on toast?” I said.

‘ “What’s so surprising in that?” he answered. “You’re eating them, presumably, for the same reason. I can’t think of any other. I hate baked beans on toast, but at the moment I feel I could eat my grandmother — if she were alive, I mean,” he added hastily.

‘I pushed my plate across.

‘ “Finish the lot,” I said, and, anticipating his question, “I mean it.”

‘ “You’re very kind,” he said, and then was silent for a little — or fairly silent anyway. When he’d finished, except for a bean which had slipped into his beard on the way from the plate, he repeated his thanks.

‘ “That meant a lot to me.”

‘ “I’m sorry you’re in such a bad way. Have another,” I said, and was just in time with “I mean it.”

‘After he had been supplied with a double portion, he looked happier.

‘ “This is how I get most of my meals,” he said; “but it’s an effort. You were fairly easy, and I’d like really to show you how grateful I am.”

‘ “That’s qulte unnecessary,” I said. “I know what it is to be down on one’s luck. When you’ve made your fortune, you can send me a pair of silver candlesticks or a picture or something.”

‘ “A picture, did you say?” he said, somewhat eagerly. “Are you fond of pictures?”

‘ “I wasn’t serious,” I said. “No. I’m not in the least fond of pictures. I don’t even know what I like. Or rather I do. I don’t like anything.”

‘ “Then I’m afraid it’s no use,” he said. “That’s all I shall ever be able to give you. I’m supposed to be an artist.”

‘ “Really?”

‘ “I suppose the answer to that is ‘Yes’, but it depends what the definition of an artist is. If it means someone who lives by art—well, the answer is ‘Not really.’ If it means someone who does nothing except paint with an occasional and all too infrequent interval for eating, well then that’s me — really.”

‘ “Can’t you sell your pictures?”

‘ “I cannot. Look at this. Who’d want to buy this?” and he bought out a roll of paper from some part of his clothes.

‘ “No — not that — sorry,” he said and hastily put it back again. “This is it, I think,” and this time he brought out a wider roll, which he proceeded to open.

‘ “Who’d want to buy that?” he repeated. I was about to say “Well, why not paint something else?” when my eye caught the picture and I was unable to say anything at all for the moment. It was a picture of an ordinary wireless set and, not very far from it, with no apparent connexion, was part of a human form. Only part. It appeared to me to be a feminine posterior. It was doing nothing in particular. Not that it could.

‘ “I call it
Cable and Wireless
,” he said.

‘ “Why Cable?” I asked.

‘ “Just to identify it,” he said. “I expect you think it’s pretty silly.”

‘ “I told you I’m not a judge of pictures, but I’m bound to say that I don’t quite follow what it means.”

‘ “It represents,” he said, “according to my uncontrollable ideas, the spirit of the epoch. I have to do it.”

‘ “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Just think what a lot of other things there are to do.”

‘He was not offended. “You’re quite right. I ought to stop it and become a grocer’s assistant or something, but I can’t. I just have to go on. Shall I tell you how it began?”

‘ “Please do. But would you like some more beans?”

‘ “Just another cup of cocoa, thanks — oh, and, if you really mean it, a piece of cake.”

‘ “I was taken by my mother to the National Gallery,” he began.’

‘Perhaps I met him,’ said Elizabeth, ‘but I shouldn’t remember. The only thing that comes back to me from that dreadful afternoon is the tea. I spilled it all over my new dress so that we should have to go home. I was rather fond of the dress, but it was worth it.’

‘ “I was taken by my mother to the National Gallery,” he said,’ went on Basil, ‘ “and there we saw, among other pictures, the Rokeby Venus. Even you, little as you have seen of pictures, even you may have seen a reproduction of it. It’s a picture of a lovely lady lying at full length looking in a minor. For the most part, you only see the back view. The middle of the picture is taken up with her hindquarters. They were the part which caught my eye. I stared and stared at them. They fascinated me. No, more than that. As I looked at them, I could feel — I can feel now — an extraordinary sensation surging through me. I knew then, as I know now, that in some context or other I should have to go on painting them till I die. In the result, every picture I paint has to have them there. It makes no difference what the subject-matter is — a landscape, a seascape, a portrait — or even an (otherwise) abstract picture — there they always are. I just can’t help it. What I’m seeking for I don’t know — but I suppose it’s my dream picture where they will fit in to perfection. As it is, they always seem to me to be just wrong.”

‘ “I’m so sorry,” I said.

‘ “You needn’t laugh,” he said, “I’m quite serious.”

‘ “Then haven’t you thought of fitting them on to a real person? That would appear to a stupid man like me the most suitable place.”

‘ “You don’t mean to a real person — they’d be most annoyed — just think what that lady over there would say if I tried — but you mean to a person in a picture. Of course I have. But it just doesn’t work. No — the nearest I’ve ever got to it was my
Mill at Sunset
, but even that wasn’t quite right.”

‘I was prepared to believe it, but I didn’t say so. There might have been a limit to his good temper.

‘ “Have you sold any of them?” I asked.

‘ “I thought I had once, but the lady was short-sighted, and returned it next day in a fury and demanded her money back. At least she didn’t come herself. She sent her maid. She was a nice girl and even offered to pose for me, but after we’d had tea and so on there wasn’t time.”

‘Then I had an idea. “This Rokeby Venus,” I said, “she has hands and feet and so forth, I suppose?”

“Certainly. Everything you can see from behind.”

“Haven’t you ever thought of doing another part of her for a change — her neck, for instance, her arm or the like?”

‘He thought for a moment. “Come to think of it,” he said, “I never have, but I don’t think it would do.”

‘ “Worth trying, perhaps?”

‘ “If only I knew what I was seeking for. I’m in the dark — groping in the dark — but all the time there’s this uncontrollable force driving me on. I just have to do it.”

‘ “Some more cocoa?” I said.

‘ “Just a cigarette, thank you, if you happen to be able to spare” — he paused and I thought it was the end of the sentence — but he went on after a short interval, “a packet”, he said.

‘I gave him my last. I’m sure Nicholas would have done the same.’

‘Nicholas,’ said Petula, ‘would not have been there. An instinctive reaction at the mention of the Rokeby Venus would have told him it was time to leave. Am I right, Nicholas?’

‘Always, when we’re together, my sweet.’

‘Don’t interrupt Basil, Nicholas,’ said Elizabeth. ‘He will be coming to the point any month now.’

Basil looked at his watch.

‘I shall have to finish my introduction in about half an hour, as we have a visitor coming.’

‘Now, he’s not coming here, surely. You said he was dirty.’

‘I am not referring to my artist friend, Mr Simon Plant, but to someone quite different and none other than Mr John Rock.’

‘Not
the
John Rock.’

‘Himself.’

‘But what has he got to do with it?’

‘If you will allow me to finish, you will learn.’

‘I cannot see what a football pools expert can have to do with it. You’re sure your lines aren’t crossed.’

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Basil, ‘you are so impatient, all, of you. I suppose you want me to start from the beginning.’

‘Not that,’ said Elizabeth.

‘All right,’ said Basil, ‘I will. What is our object in life? Answer, to live happily. Can we live happily without money? No. Can we live happily if we have to work? No. Object, then, to make money without working. How have we done that in the past? By trading on human weaknesses. Malice and inquisitiveness have yielded good dividends, but they’re not the only weaknesses by a long way. My present scheme is based on snobbery and greed. Is it plain so far?’

‘Nothing is in the least plain. Suppose you get back to Mr Simon Plant and your last packet of cigarettes.’

‘Very well. “Are any other artists like you?” I asked.

‘ “There are plenty who can’t sell their pictures and don’t get enough to eat, if that’s what you mean.”

‘ “But do any of them only paint one part of the body?”

‘ “Not that I know of.”

‘ “I suppose they could do it to order,” I said.

‘ “Most of them.”

‘ “Of course, there’s a good deal of character to be shown in a person’s hands.”

‘ “Certainly.”

‘ “Or eyes.”

‘ “Of course.”

‘ “You happen to have chosen a part which is possibly less expressive than some others, but do you think you could get some of your friends to follow in your footsteps, but using another part of the body?”

‘ “As a commission, you mean?”

‘ “I do.”

‘ “I expect I could. But what’s the idea?”

‘ “It’s only just occurred to me and I’ve only begun to work it out, but let me know where I can get hold of you and I think we may both hear of something to our advantage.”

‘ “I haven’t a card, but I’ll write my name and address on the back of this if you like. You can have it,” and he handed me
Cable and Wireless
. Here it is.’

‘You’re not putting that up here,’ said Elizabeth, after one glance.

‘Does he have a model for each picture?’ asked Nicholas.

‘He told me that he painted mostly from memory. Now, listen. This is my idea. It’ll soon be summer. What does that mean?’

‘A new dress,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Cricket,’ said Nicholas.

‘Warmer,’ said Basil. ‘It means no English football.’

Elizabeth and Petula exchanged glances. ‘He’s not been strange in any other way, has he?’

‘No — just glowing and shining, you know.’

Nicholas had been thinking. Suddenly — ‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘Picture pools.’

‘Picture pools it is,’ said Basil.

‘Now, in order to start a pool we’ve got to get the interest f the public. That isn’t really very difficult if you go about it he right way. We must get the Press interested. To do that, we must stimulate in one way or another the interest of the artistic profession, the dealers, the artists, and those members of the public who look at pictures. It doesn’t matter how much we annoy them. In fact the more we annoy them the better we shall do. When we’ve got them all talking, the rest of the public will come in. Look how they flocked to see Picasso. Half the people who went there had never been to a picture gallery before. They heard about these new pictures which were attacked by many, praised by a few and took a lot of understanding. Of course, they didn’t understand them, but they went. Having got their interest in our new group of artists — I’ll tell you about them, if you haven’t guessed, in a moment — we then introduce the picture pools. We take premises and hang, say, forty pictures. They will all be of the new group. They are to be called “The Gropists”. Their founder is my friend Mr Simon Plant. We shall pay starving artists a fee for hanging their pictures. Normally, it’s the other way round. We may even buy the first lot. Each picture will contain some portion of the human anatomy and anything else — much or little — the artist likes — except the rest of the body. That would disqualify. These artists, led by Mr Plant, are seeking for something — they don’t quite know what. As a matter of secondary interest, it will be pointed out that the whole of the human form is really too much for one artist. You can spend a lifetime perfecting arms, hands, or eyes. That is what they are doing. One day we might have a composite picture of a whole person painted by different members of the Group. In exchange for an admission fee of sixpence or a shilling, you will be given a coupon. This will be arranged like a football pool coupon. For instance, on the left (what you might call the home team) will appear Mr Simon Plant’s
Cable and Wireless
and on the right (the away team) Mr So-and-So’s
Hands across the Sea
. Members of the public will be asked to record their opinion of each picture by giving it marks — say from one to ten. Of course, they won’t in any way be compelled to record their opinions, but quite enough people will do so to enable us to work the pool. If
Cable and Wireless
gets altogether twenty marks and
Hands across the Sea
only nineteen, it’s a home win and vice versa. If neither of them gets any marks (which I suspect may sometimes occur) it’s a draw. See the idea?’

Nicholas nodded eagerly. He was already wondering how much the dividends on the treble chance pool would be likely to be. Even Elizabeth and Petula were beginning to see daylight.

‘I see,’ said Petula brightly. ‘But mightn’t it be difficult to run off with the money without being caught?’

‘
We
shan’t have to do it,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You and I can go abroad for a year or two while they’re keeping out of the way of the police. I do hope you don’t get caught, darling,’ she added.

‘We don’t run off with the money, stupid,’ said Nicholas. ‘We shall be reputable pool promoters who quite legitimately stick to unnamed portions of the takings for expenses and services rendered and hand out the balance by way of dividends. Indeed, to begin with, we may hand it all back to get advertisement. Mightn’t it be a good idea to declare all dividends to a unit of five shillings at first? That would swell the look of the first prize a bit.’