detail,the who, where, why, what and when, was altogether missing. It was this hot intimacy that Dave 2 desired more than anything else, so, like a spymaster, Dave 2 determined to employ an agent, and to that end he waited behind at St Simon’s on the tenth day after Carol’s induction and introduced her to Geena.
Geena was a fellow recovering alcoholic, a stringy old hippy thing in black lycra that smelt of patchouli long past its sell-by date. Geena was an old-time accomplice of Dave 2’s, similarly sexually dormant, and addicted to the delights of what we may call—to coin a neologism— psycho-empathetic voyeurism, or PEV for short.
Geena came lurching up to Carol, rocking hard on her preposterous heels. Carol was helping to dispense handleless mugs of instant coffee to the Al Anon group members. Carol was struck immediately by the strange way that Geena’s belly bulged out at the sides, as if she had a circular cushion rammed up her stretchy top. Struck by this and struck also by Geena’s defiantly ethnic hairstyle. All of her thick black locks had been gathered up into a single plume on top of her head and garlanded there with skeins of fake amber beads. Geena’s face was unremarkable to begin with; her flywhisk hair-do made it wholly unmemorable.
‘Hi, I’m Geena,’ said Geena, before Dave 2 had even had an opportunity to introduce them. ‘The old pisshead here has told me about you. I insisted that he introduce us, I keep birds too.’
This was three arrows straight into the bull. Carol didlike her birds and she could be flattered as much as the next. But Geena’s real stroke had been to ridicule Dave 2. Carol had begun to develop some profound doubts about Dave 2, after the first flush of her conversion had started to fade. And although the ridicule was clearly not intended to be pejorative in this context, Carol thought she could definitely sense some lurking malice.
Carol didn’t need much urging to accompany Geena back to her flat off the Harrow Road. It was a long way but Geena had a car. Carol was doubly pleased because riding in the car gave her a good pretext for discussing her favourite thing of the moment—driving. Ever since Carol had started her driving lessons she had developed an unreasonable interest in everything to do with the road. She had already had two lessons and they had gone off more than satisfactorily. The instructor was feeling so relaxed towards the end of the second lesson, that he lifted his feet aside from the dualcontrol pedals and let her go solo on Green Lanes. ‘You’re a natural,’ he told Carol. And only 80 per cent of the compliment sprang from his fuzzy desire to go where
it
was.
Geena and Carol talked about driving all the way down to the Harrow Road. Once there, they talked about Carol and a little bit about Geena. Geena clutched at her hosed and knobbly knees, and bent forward. She was flanked by low tables covered with ratty bibelots. Incense mouldered in a corner. Geena’s face folded itself into a listening ear and Carol felt compelled to give her atleast a version of the truth…about her and Dan that is, certainly not about
it
.
But the version was no better than what Dave 2 had already. And as an exercise in PEV Geena had to concede to herself that the interrogation had proved a failure. For the essence of PEV is to create in its practitioners’ minds pictures of the most intimate aspects of their subjects’ lives. A seasoned PEVist gets off, not on secretly watching sexual intercourse, but simply on
knowing
that it is taking place. But Carol’s info brought Dave 2 and Geena no closer to this devoutly desired consummation. Instead, when either of them tried to form a mental image of Dan and Carol’s intimate life, it remained as woodenly two-dimensional as an animated cartoon.
Returning home, Carol found Dan in the kitchen, looking flushed. He was sitting reading the local advertiser. After a game of squash with Derry, en route from work to
Geena was a fellow recovering alcoholic, a stringy old hippy thing in black lycra that smelt of patchouli long past its sell-by date. Geena was an old-time accomplice of Dave 2’s, similarly sexually dormant, and addicted to the delights of what we may call—to coin a neologism— psycho-empathetic voyeurism, or PEV for short.
Geena came lurching up to Carol, rocking hard on her preposterous heels. Carol was helping to dispense handleless mugs of instant coffee to the Al Anon group members. Carol was struck immediately by the strange way that Geena’s belly bulged out at the sides, as if she had a circular cushion rammed up her stretchy top. Struck by this and struck also by Geena’s defiantly ethnic hairstyle. All of her thick black locks had been gathered up into a single plume on top of her head and garlanded there with skeins of fake amber beads. Geena’s face was unremarkable to begin with; her flywhisk hair-do made it wholly unmemorable.
‘Hi, I’m Geena,’ said Geena, before Dave 2 had even had an opportunity to introduce them. ‘The old pisshead here has told me about you. I insisted that he introduce us, I keep birds too.’
This was three arrows straight into the bull. Carol didlike her birds and she could be flattered as much as the next. But Geena’s real stroke had been to ridicule Dave 2. Carol had begun to develop some profound doubts about Dave 2, after the first flush of her conversion had started to fade. And although the ridicule was clearly not intended to be pejorative in this context, Carol thought she could definitely sense some lurking malice.
Carol didn’t need much urging to accompany Geena back to her flat off the Harrow Road. It was a long way but Geena had a car. Carol was doubly pleased because riding in the car gave her a good pretext for discussing her favourite thing of the moment—driving. Ever since Carol had started her driving lessons she had developed an unreasonable interest in everything to do with the road. She had already had two lessons and they had gone off more than satisfactorily. The instructor was feeling so relaxed towards the end of the second lesson, that he lifted his feet aside from the dualcontrol pedals and let her go solo on Green Lanes. ‘You’re a natural,’ he told Carol. And only 80 per cent of the compliment sprang from his fuzzy desire to go where
it
was.
Geena and Carol talked about driving all the way down to the Harrow Road. Once there, they talked about Carol and a little bit about Geena. Geena clutched at her hosed and knobbly knees, and bent forward. She was flanked by low tables covered with ratty bibelots. Incense mouldered in a corner. Geena’s face folded itself into a listening ear and Carol felt compelled to give her atleast a version of the truth…about her and Dan that is, certainly not about
it
.
But the version was no better than what Dave 2 had already. And as an exercise in PEV Geena had to concede to herself that the interrogation had proved a failure. For the essence of PEV is to create in its practitioners’ minds pictures of the most intimate aspects of their subjects’ lives. A seasoned PEVist gets off, not on secretly watching sexual intercourse, but simply on
knowing
that it is taking place. But Carol’s info brought Dave 2 and Geena no closer to this devoutly desired consummation. Instead, when either of them tried to form a mental image of Dan and Carol’s intimate life, it remained as woodenly two-dimensional as an animated cartoon.
Returning home, Carol found Dan in the kitchen, looking flushed. He was sitting reading the local advertiser. After a game of squash with Derry, en route from work to
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