Unity by Michael Arditti Read Free Book Online

candidates being Neville Chamberlain and Queen Mary.
    On which note I’d better end. If Wolfram is right and no one has time to read any more, then I expect you feel intimidated by anything longer than a postcard. Besides, we’re off on a works outing to the Oktoberfest – that’s Munich’s annual beer festival. Did you know that half the world’s breweries were based in Germany? Perhaps that could be another project for your geography class? Or perhaps not. Do they have ‘moral turpitude’ in prep schools? It’s a mixture of circus acts (human and flea),fairground attractions, ox-roasting and beer halls. What’s more, it’s been taking place every year since the early nineteenth century. How often do I have the chance to get smashed in the name of culture?
    If I die of alcohol poisoning, I bequeath you my second-best bed (the first, naturally, goes to Fliss). If I survive, I promise to write again soon.
    Yours, till the beer freezes over,
    Luke.
     
    8 München 40,
    Giselastrasse 23,
    West Germany
     
    22nd Nov 1976
    Wertester Herr Studienrat!
    Many thanks for yours of the 8th. I loved the story of the Headmaster walking in when you were tied to the desk during your Robin Hood rehearsal. I quoted it to Wolfram, who was willfully obtuse. ‘What is a Sheriff doing in England? Why are the homeless men happy?’ It was doubly welcome after a letter from my mother, who doles out news the way that she doles out food, on the basis of what’s good for you rather than what’s tasty. So I was treated to half a page on the plans for a new road to Battle and two lines on Tim and Sheila’s separation. Of course, she didn’t say a word about my father. It’s as if they’re living on either side of the Berlin Wall. Fliss is convinced that it’s part of some kinky role-play: they pretend to be strangers in order to spice up their sex life. Yuck! I asked her to explain how being strangers could make sex more exciting. But she acted dumb, giving me one of those forehead kisses which always make me feel small, and singing the first line of her Footlights song: ‘Variety’s the spice of life, but my heart belongs to Basil.’
    My heart belongs to her so completely that I sometimes wonder if it’s mine at all. Perhaps I was operated on in my sleep by Christian Barnard? Last week she paid me another flying visit, during most of which I was tied up (sorry!) at the studio. I can’t understand why she won’t stay longer. There’s nothing to keep her in London … at least, nothing she’s told me. But then she’s so secretive about the way she spends her time. I accused her of confusing mystery with mystique. ‘Do I demand an account of every minute of your day?’ she asked. ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ I said and proceeded to give her one, unbidden. The only thing I can think ofis that she’s scared that, if Wolfram sees too much of her, he’ll see through her and cast someone else. Which is crap. She is Unity! But she’s so insecure. Do you think you might investigate (discreetly)? And swear – on pain of death – not to mention me. I know it’s asking a lot, but she trusts you. She talks to you. I’ll admit that there’ve been times when, seeing the two of you together, I’ve felt decidedly spare. It’s weird. All the women in the novels I read are looking for the one man who will love and understand them, and yet all the women I know seem to be happiest with men who are gay. So is it the writers who are getting it wrong, or is it me?
    It all boils down – doesn’t everything? – to sex. Fliss likes sex. Well, I don’t need to tell you. I still blush when I think of Naxos. From now on, when I book a hotel, the first thing I shall check is the thickness of the walls. On the other hand, she can be so coy, like that awful phrase she uses, ‘number threes’, as if it were a form of excretion…. I’ve just had a thought: do you think she may have overcome her armpit aversion and joined one of those women’s