The Last Word
“He breathed in: the evening air was a whisky shot; the music in his car was soon rocking, and he sang as he ripped through the lanes. It was true: his genitals were deaf to reason. But wasn’t it rather that his reason had become deaf to the cry of his genitals? Hadn’t his mother said, ‘Take love where you find it, little boy, and consider yourself lucky’? But it wasn’t just a cry of lust: he was quivering and insomniac. He was finding it impossible to spend the whole night in the house of cries.
He had read through most of Mamoon’s early relationship with Peggy, and had begun on the part where Mamoon, whilst travelling, first saw his ‘luscious’ Colombian lover Marion. What vertigo she had given him: Mamoon had found a woman who had challenged, desired and infuriated him.
Meanwhile, Peggy, who in her diaries was suffering more than even she liked – perhaps bringing forward her own death – had continued to come to Harry, usually in the guise of his mother.
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