Peekay was becoming distressed. While neither of- them were raising their voices, they were plainly quarrelling. Harriet was squarely positioned between them. How nearly Hymie could have been right.
'Hymie, you're wrong, I didn't lose my virginity to Harriet.'
Hymie's foot involuntarily came off the accelerator and the car veered momentarily towards the wrong side of the road before he hastily corrected his steering and pushed down on the accelerator again. 'Shit, Peekay, what are you saying?'
Peekay told Hymie about the night with Togger, retelling it in some detail, taking the time to move away from the quarrel, including the funny bits, forcing Hymie to laugh.
It was a vastly expanded version of the story he'd told when he'd arrived back at Oxford with a broken nose. Then he'd simply recounted to Hymie how he and Togger had been involved in a fight in a nightclub. It had been the truth as far as it went. Peekay couldn't explain exactly, even to himself, why he'd kept the full story from Hymie. It had been so wonderful with Carmen, he instinctively didn't want to debase it. He knew Hymie would want every detail and that, in the retelling, the components of the evening would be reduced to what they probably were: a sleazy nightclub for perverts serviced by a bunch of hard-faced female drink hustlers who were willing to take off their clothes to a taped sound track so they could make the rather sad claim of being in showbiz. It hadn't been like that at all. To Peekay it had been a magical evening which could never happen again. In losing his virginity to Carmen he had also lost his innocence. Henceforth he would see the peeling paint and the purple bruises on fleshy thighs, the greasy satin skirts and shark-tooth lines of black thread where the fishnet stocking had been drawn together in hasty repair.
Finally Peekay got to the part in the story where he told Hymie of his seduction by Carmen. He had kept her relationship to Togger out of the story, sensing that Togger would want this. He painted the scene of her strip-tease, hoping that Hymie might isolate it in his imagination, the one contrast to the surrounding sleaze. But he knew, in reality, that this was unlikely. He retold the fight briefly and concluded with Carmen's offer to take him home.
'And so you see, I never got what I wanted. I might as well have lost my virginity to one of the whores in the mines. I got laid by a stripper in a cheap nightclub for drunks and perverts.' Peekay felt the sudden sting of shame as he denigrated Carmen's status and generosity in an attempt to mend Hymie's hurt.
Hymie glanced over at Peekay. In the darkness of the car cabin Peekay could only guess at his expression, but when he spoke his voice was relaxed. 'You bastard, Peekay! You kept all this from me?'
'Ja, well, you knowâ¦' Peekay knew Hymie wouldn't pursue it. He'd conclude Peekay was ashamed of the manner in which he'd been deflowered. 'Which brings us back to Harriet,' Peekay said, knowing he must force the discussion to some conclusion.
'I'm sorry, Peekay. I was wrong. I guess I was hurt. I wanted to think that your motive was simple penis blunder, the cock erect, blind to reason.' Then he added lamely, 'It helped explain my own inadequacy.'
'You're in love with her, aren't you, Hymie?' Hymie was silent for a moment. 'Yes,' he paused. 'That must be hard for you to understand.'
Peekay put his hand on Hymie's shoulder. 'It would almost help if it was. But no, it isn't. I feel like a proper bastard.'
'Peekay, you are a proper bastard. Not because you stole my woman. Harriet makes up her own mind about her sleeping partner. Besides, as you now know, I was never a contender and never owned her. You're a proper bastard because you didn't see the possibility of my friendship with her outside of sex. What about all the other sensibilities? Sex doesn't make Harriet unique. Though I can't vouch for it, she's probably pretty interchangeable with a thousand women in that respect. Sex is the least unique aspect of a woman. Her uniqueness lies in dozens of other ways which attracted her to me, made me love her. You're a bastard for not understanding this fully.'
He grinned suddenly. 'Forgive me, Peekay, but when you've got an inactive dick you begin to realise that love has more to it than coitus. I hope you'll not spoil the relationship I have with Harriet by getting your aggressive cock in the way.'
Hymie had spoken without raising his voice and with his eyes mostly on the road. The afternoon had closed in and he now turned on the car lights. The darkness within the car and the throb of the engine seemed to lock them together in time.
'Pull over, Hymie. Stop the car,' Peekay asked.
Hymie braked and pulled the car over to the edge of the road. They were close to the outskirts of Oxford. Peekay embraced Hymie silently, then pulled away smiling. Hymie laughed suddenly. 'Shit you look terrible!'
'But I feel great!' Peekay replied. 'Bloody woman, she's got us both by the short and curlies.'
Hymie laughed. 'She's only a woman. If we combine our resources and work together we may just get the better of her.'
Harriet's 'Two Horses with Naked Man' and her boxer, 'Man in Peculiar Limbo', both finished with shellac for lack of money to cast them in bronze, were exhibited in Helen Lessore's Beaux Arts Gallery in London in the summer. This was recognition that here was a new sculptor to be taken seriously. On the strength of the exhibition she'd been commissioned to make an eagle lectern for a church in Dresden, a gift from Anglo-American Catholics as a gesture of appeasement for the fire-bombing of this most beautiful of medieval German cities during World War Two. Harriet had also received a commission for a big head of Christ for St Martin's Church in Swindon.
Harriet's relationship with the two young men seemed to change little. Peekay learned to live with her fluctuating libido which seemed to become active only when she wasn't totally absorbed in her work. She seemed to share the two of them equally and if Peekay enjoyed the occasional use of her bed, Hymie' was never made to feel unwanted. It was a peculiar relationship but she contrived to manage it effortlessly. Harriet had an ingenuousness about her, and as the social and working lives of the two men were almost identical, this was made all the more easy. The friends appeared more as a perfect threesome than as a loving twosome with an odd man out. Peekay's only real opportunity to be alone with Harriet was when he posed for her. Peekay was well on the way to challenging for the British Empire Welterweight title. Dutch had scheduled a fight a month to take him up to a title fight by Christmas, a year after his match with Habib. The trainer had instituted a regime of road work to strengthen Peekay's legs and to keep him at a level of optimum fitness. Four times a week Peekay would run the five miles from Oxford to Cow Cottage, where he'd arrive in a lather of sweat and undress to pose for Harriet.
Harriet didn't seem as interested in the female form as she did the male. She readily confessed that it was the male form which gave her the impetus and energy for her purely sensuous approach to sculpture. Sometimes after making love Harriet would prop herself on one elbow and run her hand over Peekay's body. She seemed to be feeling it, though not with the practised eye of the sculptor, for her eyes were shut. She seemed to be sensing his body through the tips of her fingers and feeding the parts she touched directly into her memory.
Peekay discovered that Harriet simply couldn't resist him when his boxer's body glistened with sweat from the run. She would feel the same way watching him fight, but then her attention was directed onto the sketch pad she always carried with her. She was beginning to assemble the hundreds of sketched poses she would need for a huge tableau of boxers, twelve figures in all, six of them the same boxer in different fighting poses against six different opponents. Peekay was, of course, her consistent boxer, while. his opponents would be chosen from her sketches as he worked his way up the ladder to the world welterweight championship.
Togger had also posed for one of the boxing models, Harriet sketching him in the gym when Peekay and he worked out together. He'd promised to come up to Cow Cottage in early February to 'pose proper', when he could take a couple of days off from his job as a tally clerk on the docks.
'Blimey, Peekay, you positive I've got to pose in the nuddy, in me bleedin' birthday suit, an' all? Not even a jock strap?'
'Harriet is not one to compromise, Togger.' Togger, looking gloomily into the distance, sucked absently at his pint. 'What if I get a hard-on?' he asked suddenly.
'You get an erection, you bastard, I'll smash your teeth in,' Peekay laughed. 'It's art, Togger. One day Harriet's going to be famous and you'll be in a museum or gallery. How'd you be, standing in the Tate with a dirty great erection! Imagine a teacher brings her class in for a visit and stops next to you, "Look children, this is Togger Brown, Homo Erectus!'"
'Homo? Who's a bleedin' homo?'
They both laughed, but Togger was still worried. 'She doesn't touch ya and things, does she? I mean, run 'er hands over you to make measurements and that sorta thing? I don't think I could stand that!'
Life as a professional boxer as well as a student had to be carefully managed. While Hymie took care of all the contracts and gathered the analytical information on Peekay's opponents, Dutch required that Peekay work out three times a week in the London gym as well as fight once every month somewhere in Britain. On two occasions, Peekay had fought in Brussels and once in Paris. It meant a tight weekly schedule for Peekay, who had no intention of letting up on his studies. Despite his reappraisal of Oxford he wanted a first and this meant planning his routine very carefully. Mostly he'd drive down to London in the Ford Prefect, where he'd do a three-hour work-out, which included a sparring session, usually with Togger, but sometimes with any of the middleweights who, aware of the lesson Peekay had given Peter Best, were always anxious to get into the ring with him. Then he'd drive back to Oxford, getting back to Magdalen just before midnight.
While he had almost no time for leisure in his second year at Oxford, Togger and Peekay had formed the habit of having a pint of bitter and a game of darts in the Thomas à Becket downstairs after training.
Hymie had arranged a non-title fight with the British Empire Champion, Iron Bar Barunda, a welterweight from Ghana who now lived in the British Isles. Peekay couldn't fight for the British title because he was not twenty-one, but he could enter for the British Empire title. Both were held by Iron Bar Barunda. Barunda wouldn't put the bigger of his two titles on the line which meant Peekay couldn't get past him in the line-up for fighters he had to beat eventually to get to Spoonbill Jackson. Hymie had managed to negotiate a non-title event with virtually the whole purse going to the black boxer. If Peekay beat him, Hymie's contract stipulated that they'd get a crack at the title in December.
Only three continental welterweights were rated higher than Barunda; if Peekay could get past them he was in line for a top North American fighter as well as Soap Dish Jurez, the Cuban, and Manuel Ortez, the Mexican; both of these were welters who were rated contenders for a future world title fight. The fight was to take place during the Oxford summer vacation. Peekay and Hymie had managed to stay at Harriet's aunt's flat in Knightsbridge while Peekay prepared for the fight. Harriet herself had been invited to the University at Aix-en-Provence to teach for five weeks and would miss the bout.
Harriet's Aunt Tom had grown very fond of both young men and since her return to England had become an avid boxing fan. Dressed in an immaculate dinner suit she'd attended all Peekay's fights. Her brilliant henna-coloured Eton crop could be picked out in the centre of the Odd Bodleians where she sat with a set of bongo drums between her knees and a thin black Spanish cheroot dangling from her lips. Bongo drums are not exactly African, but Aunt Tom was a skilled and versatile drummer and used it to beat out the rhythm for the
Concerto for the Southland,
which had by now, along with the Odd Bodleians, become a famous feature of all of Peekay's fights.
Togger and Peekay were in the Thomas a Becket after a training session when Fred, the ex-pug they'd met on their first day, approached Peekay with Dutch Holland.
'This letter come when you was away. Nice lookin' young lady bring it around.'
'Oh yes! Very ris-kay!' Togger said. "Ere, you gunna open it, ain't ya?'
Peekay assumed a haughty look, mimicking Togger's accent. 'Do yer mind? This is privatemail this is.'
Togger looked crestfallen and Peekay laughed. 'Here, you open it,' he said, handing Togger the envelope. 'You serious then?'
'Ja, sure, go on, read it, man.'
Togger peeled the back flap open very carefully, opening the letter inside he sniffed at it, 'Cor, it don't half pong!'
'C'mon, Togger, what's it say,' Peekay laughed. Togger began to read.
Dear Peekay,
How are you? My brother saw you at Earls Court and says you're awfully good. You never did phone me. Maybe you did and I was out? Anyway, I remember you well. Have you got a girlfriend?
If you want you can call me at the Dolls' Hospital HAM 7295 on Wednesday we close early, 3.15. We could go for a drink or something. My mum thinks you're smashing, even if you are a toff. My dad says there's no future going with a boxer, but I told him to mind his own business!
Ta, ta, then, I must get my beauty sleep.
Love and kisses,
Doris
P.S. My best part is still in the front!