Weaveworld

4

And what lessons could he learn from the mad poet, now that they were fellow spirits? What would Mad Mooney do, were he in Cal’s shoes?

He’d play whatever game was necessary, came the answer, and then, when the world turned its back, he’d search, search until he found the place he’d seen, and not care that in doing so he was inviting delirium. He’d find his dream and hold on to it and never let it go.

They talked a little while longer, until Geraldine announced that she had to leave. There was wedding business to do that afternoon.

‘No more pigeon-chasing,’ she said to Cal. ‘I want you there on Saturday.’

She put her arms around him.

‘You’re too thin,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have to feed you up.’

She expects to be kissed now, the mad poet whispered in his ear; oblige the lady. We don’t want her to think you’ve lost interest in copulation, just because you’ve been half way to Heaven and back. Kiss her, and say something fetching.

The kiss Cal could deliver, though he was afraid the fact that his passion was prompted would show. He needn’t have feared. She returned his fake fervour with the genuine article, her body warm and tight against his.

That’s it, said the poet, now find something seductive to say, and send her off happy.

Here Cal’s confidence faltered. He had no skill with sweet-talk, nor ever had. ‘See you Saturday,’ was all he could muster. She seemed content with that. She kissed him again, and took her leave.

He watched her from the window, counting her steps until she turned the corner. Then, with his lover out of sight, he went in search of his heart’s desire.