Page 27 of Infamous

‘How are they going to form thoughts about us if they can’tseeus?’ said Nash, tapping his nose as if he’d just said something very clever, which he hadn’t. He left the key in the door and then threw himself onto a small, neat, green sofa, sighing with evident relief. The wholeroomwas neat – far cleaner and more organised than any other corner of the house that Eddie had encountered so far. It smelled pleasantly of polish, and the waxy white roses in a vase by the window.

‘It’s Liza’s private parlour,’ Nash said, loosening his cravat. ‘She doesn’t like me to come in here for some reason. Locks it when we entertain guests.’

‘Er .?.?. Somebody might have noticed us coming in here, even if they’re unable to see through walls,’ said Eddie, still standing halfway between the door and the very inviting-looking armchair opposite Nash.

Nash waved her away. ‘They’re all foxed up to their eyeballs. Nobody around here notices anything.’

Eddie knew he was wrong; they all noticedhim, eyes following him wherever he went. She could only hope that nobody had glimpsed the face of his accomplice as she ran along in his wake.

‘How’s this?’ said Nash, reaching into his jacket and pulling out an engraved silver flask. ‘I’ll exit through the window, and then you can go by the door, and nobody will ever know of our various crimes.’

‘Oh, fine,’ said Eddie, finally giving in and sitting down. ‘You are ridiculous.’

‘Catch,’ said Nash; Eddie’s hands went up without thought, and she caught the heavy flask as it flew towards her face. ‘Oh,excellentcatch. Liza is always furious at me when I do that, but she’s got no .?.?. you know. Brain-to-hands. Whatsit. Reflexes.’

‘I have four siblings,’ said Eddie, uncorking the flask. ‘I’m used to people throwing things at me from all directions.’

‘I shall remember that and test you at a later date,’ said Nash, rolling his head back until something in his neck clicked. ‘Drink up, I’m drying out over here.’

‘Incredibly unlikely,’ said Eddie. She took a sip from the flask and then handed it back to him. The alcohol slid quickly down her throat, seeping into the corners of her at once. ‘Are you all right? Mr Rednock said—’

‘Alas, poor Albert. He’s not quite built for bacchanalia. He came to dish out condolences and give friendly pats on the head with those enormous hands of his, but baulked when somebody started handing out cups of laudanum like it was tea.’

‘So youareall right,’ Eddie said.

‘All right. Hmmm,’ said Nash, fingering the neck of the flask as he considered a spot on the ceiling. ‘After some thought, no. All wrong. Very, very, very wrong. Can’t be helped, though, can it? Can’t win them all, or even .?.?. any of them, lately.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Eddie. ‘You just seem to be in a little bit of a .?.?.’

‘Hole?’

‘I was going to say a period of reflection.’

‘Reflection? No, no, it’sstagnation, if we’re talking bodies of water.’

‘I don’t believe we were.’

‘Oh, Edith,’ Nash said, suddenly tilting his head backwards over the edge of the sofa in order to catch her eye. ‘How terribly pathetic. I must be a great disappointment in person. Nothing like a poem.’

‘People are never like poems,’ Eddie said, although for some reason she immediately thought of Rose; Rose was at leastsomewhatlike a poem, even when she was being unreasonable.

‘Sit with me,’ Nash said suddenly.

‘I am sitting with you.’

‘You are sittingadjacentto me.’ He hauled himself upright and then patted the resulting space on the sofa. ‘I promise to behave perfectly. Or at least as perfectly as a .?.?. a well-trained dog.’

‘I’ve seen how well you’ve trained your dog,’ Eddie said, but despite her misgivings, hehadvisibly wilted during their conversation; it felt only polite to attempt to cheer him up. She came to sit next to him, noting that he was careful to keep a courteous amount of distance between them.

‘I shall tell you what the trouble is.’ He paused to hand her the flask, still draped ridiculously over his side of the sofa, and Eddie took a drink and then handed it back. ‘It follows thus – I believe I have said all I have to say, in all the ways I wish to say it. I have set a certain precedent with the work I’ve done so far – not to say that it’s sogreat, you understand, that I can’t possibly top it – but I cannot stray from the narrow parameters I’ve drawn for myself, because then what I produce won’t be aNash Nicholsonpoem – or indeed aNash Nicholsonnovel.’

‘A novel?’ said Eddie, sitting up straighter. ‘But you never told me you were seriously working on anovel.’

‘Well. Yes. I ask you, Edie, what fool writes poem upon poem,onlypoetry, poetry for breakfast and luncheon and in the middle of the night, and then wakes up one morning and says, “Ah, yes, I know exactly what I’ll promise my editor on pain of death – something I have thus far never even attempted.”

‘It’ll be a triumph. I know it will.’

‘Well, there have been no signs of triumph so far. Writer’s block is so veryboring– very pedestrian. But I’ve cracked it. Blown the whole thing wide open. The problem was that I was spendingallmy time with the same people, having the same conversations, pacing around this bloody house, breathing in this fetid London air – I just needed some fresh perspective. New faces, new voices. You,’ he said, poking Eddie very gently on the arm, ‘have come torescueme from a fate worse than death.’