Mood Indigo by Boris Vian Page B

rich.
    â€˜Listen, Chick,’ he said. ‘Would you like some of my money?’
    Alyssum looked at Colin with great tenderness. He was so nice that you could see the blue and mauve thoughts running through the veins on the backs of his hands.
    â€˜I couldn’t accept it,’ said Chick.
    â€˜You’d be able to marry Alyssum,’ said Colin.
    â€˜Her parents don’t want us to,’ replied Chick, ‘and I don’t want her to quarrel with them. Besides, she’s too young …’
    â€˜I’m not as young as all that,’ said Alyssum, suddenly sitting up straight on the quilted seat and bringing out the full value of her provocative breasts.
    â€˜That’s not what he meant! …’ interrupted Colin. ‘Listen, Chick. I’ve got a hundred thousand doublezoons. I’ll give you a quarter and then you’ll be able to live in peace. You can carry on working – and like that, things should work out fine.’
    â€˜I’ll never be able to thank you enough,’ said Chick.
    â€˜Don’t thank me,’ said Colin. ‘I’m not interested in the happiness of all men, but only in the happiness of each.’ The door bell rang.
    â€˜I’ll go and see who it is,’ said Alyssum, ‘I’m the youngest! Remember you were just complaining about it …’
    She got up and her little feet skimmed the surface of the carpet.
    It was Nicholas. He had gone down the fire escape and had come back dressed in a thick fawn and green sporran-spun herringbone tweed overcoat and a flat doughboy stetson. He had gloves of disinherited pigskin, and shoes made of solid snakeskin. When he took off his overcoat he appeared in all his splendour. His corduroy jacket was in rich chestnut with ivory furrows, and he wore it over essoblue trousers with five-and-a-half-inch turnups.
    â€˜Oh!’ said Alyssum. ‘How smart you are! …’
    â€˜And how’s my little niece? Just as lovely as ever? …’ His hands roamed over her breasts and bottom.
    â€˜Come and sit down,’ said Alyssum.
    â€˜Hallo, boys,’ said Nicholas as he came in.
    â€˜At last!’ said Colin. ‘So you’ve finally decided to talk like everybody else!’
    â€˜Of course!’ said Nicholas. ‘I can do it when I want to. And while we’re at it, shall we kick all the other formalities down the fire escape too? …’
    â€˜Of course,’ said Colin. ‘Sit down.’
    Nicholas sat down facing Chick.
    â€˜Help yourself to hors d’oeuvres,’ said Chick.
    â€˜Now,’ said Colin, ‘would you like to be my best man, Chick? And Nicholas, would you like to give Chloe away?’
    â€˜We’d love to,’ beamed Nicholas. ‘But don’t try to match us up with any horrible bridesmaids. People are always trying to do that …’
    â€˜We’re going to ask Alyssum and Isis to be bridesmaids,’ said Colin, ‘and the Kissitwell brothers to be fairies of honour.’
    â€˜Then it’s all settled,’ said Chick.
    â€˜Alyssum,’ Nicholas went on, ‘go to the kitchen and bring in the dish that’s in the oven. It should be ready by now.’
    She did as she was told and came back with a massive silver plate. And when Chick lifted the cover, they found underneath it two little figures carved from pâté de foie gras representing Colin in a top-hat and Chloe as a bride. All round the edge was written the date of the wedding and in a corner was the artist’s signature –
Nicholas
.

16
    Colin sprinted through the streets.
    â€˜It’s going to be a lovely wedding … And it’s tomorrow – tomorrow morning. And all my friends are going to be there …’
    The street led straight to Chloe.
    â€˜Chloe, your lips are honey. Your complexion is peaches. Your eyes see things as we all should see them. Your body makes me feel warm