The Horned Man by James Lasdun Page B

that in another man might have sounded questionable, he was demonstrating his consummate probity; showing that he possessed, in himself , some purifying quality that could render any wrong word or gesture innocent merely by virtue of the fact that he was its instrument of expression. I felt how much of a piece with this probity all his other qualities were – his dapperness, his cheerful, sparkling eye, the healthy flush of his wrinkled face. The fanciful idea came to me that anything he did would so thoroughly partake of this wholesomeness, that even if hewere to do something on the face of it utterly crass or gross, such as sliding his hand up Elaine’s skirt, the action would become instantly so blameless that nobody would bat an eyelid.
    â€˜Anyway,’ he continued, lowering his voice, ‘on a more pressing note; we need to meet again A.S.A.P. I’ve told the others. There’s been a formal complaint about – about the person we were discussing last time. I’ll give you the details when we meet. Any chance you could make it on Monday afternoon, Lawrence? Is that one of your days?’
    It would mean canceling Dr Schrever – a hundred bucks down the drain unless she could reschedule, which she usually couldn’t.
    â€˜It’s rather urgent,’ Roger prompted me.
    â€˜That’s fine,’ I said, ‘no problem.’
    â€˜Good.’
    In the pause that followed, Elaine glanced at me, lightly curving the corners of her lips in what seemed to be a look of secret solidarity.
    â€˜Roger, who is this Trumilcik guy?’ I heard myself ask. ‘You mentioned him at the last meeting.’
    â€˜Trumilcik! Oh boy …’
    After repeating what I had already learned from Marsha, he embarked on one of his concise, précis -like appraisals of the case. Though I was naturally interested, I was somewhat distracted by the continuing oddness of Elaine’s demeanor, and I remember little about what Roger said other than that it left me feeling not much the wiser as far as Trumilcik was concerned.
    â€˜Part of it undoubtedly was that he came from a different culture’, Roger concluded, ‘with a different set of values, andwe worked hard to make allowances for that, didn’t we Elaine?’
    â€˜Did we ever!’ Elaine assented, dutifully rolling her eyes, though I could tell she wasn’t remotely interested in the discussion. Her gaze returned to me; rather wistfully now, I thought.
    â€˜What happened to him after he left?’ I asked.
    â€˜I don’t know. He had a wife, if you can believe it, someone he met over here, though I think she’d already thrown him out by the time this all erupted. How come you’re interested?’
    â€˜Just curious.’
    I had noticed him glancing over at the clock as he spoke. Not wanting to risk being left alone with Elaine again, I hurried down my lunch and made my excuses.
    In my building, as I headed back to my room, I heard my name called. I turned to see Amber, the graduate intern, standing in the corridor behind me.
    â€˜Hi,’ I said, keeping my distance.
    â€˜I was wondering if I could ask you a big favor …’
    As always, her presence, somnolent-eyed yet keenly projected into the space about her, unnerved me.
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Would you mind reading something I’ve written? It’s sort of in your field …’
    In the fluorescent light of the corridor her shorn orange hair and gold-freckled, bluish-white skin had an unnatural, pallid luminosity. Her awkwardness seemed genuine enough, but it didn’t diminish the impression of fundamental poise and confidence underlying it. She seemed to proffer the chalice of herself with a strange, innocent blatancy. As a male in a position of power, one had to be vigilant over the inclinationof one’s eye to stray at these moments, or the tendency of one’s voice to convey impulses unconnected to the