The Information Junkie by Roderick Leyland Read Free Book Online Page B

was sitting down by the window typing. In another corner—how many corners did this room have?—Dickens was making notes. Then a well-spoken, well-dressed man, with a full head of dark hair—despite his age—took his place in the centre of the floor, clapped his hands and said rather adenoidally:
    'May I have your attention for a moment, please...?' It was Melvyn. All conversation stopped. 'Ladies and gentlemen—the buffet is served.'
    Norman Mailer, still typing with one hand, turned round looking for the food, shouting:
    'Save me some of those egg dumplings.'
    Virginia said, 'Oh, I don't think I could eat anything.'
    Leonard sighed.
    Barbara said, 'Shall I get you something , dear?'
    Virginia put a finger to her lips and directed her eyes at Leonard's back.
    George Orwell said: 'I'm bloody famished.'
    Thomas Hardy said, 'I hope there's something decent to drink.'
    The tall man who'd offered me drugs said, 'Hey, what do you think they've put in the cake?' and giggled like a schoolboy. I turned my back on him.
    Martin was talking again to Christopher Priest saying,
    'Yeah, since they fixed me up in the States I can eat properly.' He smiled and lit up the dark corner for a moment, and as his lips parted he disclosed a set of perfect teeth. I didn't have time to count whether he had twenty-eight or the full thirty-two.
    Christopher said, ' How much did they cost you?'
    'Twenty-K.'
    'Sterling...?'
    'Dollars.'
    At the mention of this George spun round and mouthed, How much?
    Martin called across: 'George, your namesake in Coming up for Air is stimulated into action by the thought of his new false teeth, and he only—what was it, fifty?—'
    'Forty-five—'
    '—and he a mere forty-five. He needn't have bothered. He should have flown to the States and had the originals capped, had bridgework, implants...'
    George turned to me and said,
    'What does that chap do ?'
    Norman Mailer had now left the typewriter and was in the kitchen piling high his paper plate and saying to himself: 'Da-da, da-da, da-da; da-da, da-da, da-da; got to remember, got to remember...'
    I rather timorously approached Martin and Chris:
    'Excuse me, I'm Charlie.'
    'Martin Amis,' said Martin, not proffering his hand.
    I said, 'Someone's been using your name.'
    He said, 'I know these impostors. They think all they have to do is drop the name of an established person to give their work an importance or a respectability.'
    'No,' I said. 'He drove me home.' Martin gave me the look of someone who didn't suffer wise men gladly. 'It was an American car,' I persisted, 'with a left-hand drive. But in the end he had to leave—he just jumped out while we were moving...'
    '...whil st ...'
    'Oh, of course.'
    'Will you excuse me?' he said rather tiredly, turning his back on me to continue his conversation with Christopher Priest. Chris mouthed, I'll catch you later.
    Orwell had a very healthy appetite and he and Thomas were still conversing. Hardy was saying:
    'But why did you want to pretend?'
    'I returned from Burma with a sense of guilt about my mistreatment of the natives. Instead of being an oppressor I wanted to get down amongst the oppressed. Expiation, I suppose.'
    'Did it work?'
    'Partly.'
    'But,' said Thomas, 'you'd done some amateur tramping. Hadn't you?'
    George, who had turned a little pale as he stood over the kitchen table, called over:
    'Eileen!'
    Eileen was talking to another woman:
    'Excuse me a moment, Sonia.'
    Eileen came over. 'What is it, Eric?'
    He said, 'I don't feel well again.'
    'Do you want to sit down?'
    Saul Bellow was picking at a few small pieces of food.
    'Saul,' said Gore Vidal. 'Is any of this kosher?'
    Bellow shrugged. 'I don't know. But in the absence of pretzel sticks...'
    Gore's eyes twinkled as he gave a magisterial smile.
    Norman Mailer had already finished his plate and was starting another. So I went up to the MC and said,
    'Hi, Melvyn.'
    'Hello, Charlie.'
    'Quite some party you've organised.'
    He said, 'I'm having difficulty