‘As I have mentioned, I particularly disliked the Underground, and so I felt the first stirrings of regret now grow within me. But I could hardly now decline an invitation I had only just accepted. So, with a nod and the best smile I could muster, off we set.
‘The journey involved a brisk clip to the station – was it called St Mary’s? I cannot now recall – the usual descent in a cage, then two trains through the caves, before our final, thankful ascent. Neither of us spoke in the carriages, less out of custom on my part, more from anxiety: I knew I would have no notion of how to later return to my own lodgings if I did not now concentrate with all my might upon our route.
‘Back up on the street, the city and the night were still fog and gloom, with only the odd droplet of dull light here and there, and it seemed we still had some streets to go, invisible streets that reeked of cabbage and urine. My regret was now in full bloom and I could not help but ask my guide where on earth we were.
‘With an embarrassed laugh, an apologetic smile, Nemo said, “Or where on earth is he leading me, you mean? Well, in truth, the fog favours us, for we are far from the districts of gentility or the artistic society of Chelsea, lost in the no-man’s-land between Cumberland Market and Regent Street. An insalubrious place, I grant you, yet not without its charms, its peculiarities and its infinite possibilities …”
‘Infinite possibilities, I asked.
‘Nemo grabbed the sleeve of my coat, stopped us both in our tracks, held me in his grip and gaze: “Its subjects, Mr Natsume! They may not reveal themselves tonight, but this place fair teems with subjects.”
‘I nodded and said, I see.
‘“You will,” said Nemo. “If not yet, then I hope you will. For we are almost here, almost home …”
‘We turned a corner, took another few strides, then went down a cobbled passage to a tall and narrow house at the end of the row. Nemo went up its three stone steps, ignored the demon-faced knocker, opened the front door, held it ajar for me and said, “Welcome.”
‘I stepped inside a long and gloomy hallway. It was damp and cold and smelt of sweet and rotting fruit. Nemo closed the door, laughed and said, “You know, when I was first shown the place, I said to myself, I said, This is the house I shall be murdered in …”
‘Nemo turned up the lamp. There was a heavy mirror upon the wall, dried flowers in a vase on the chipped sideboard. He smiled and said, “But I’ve actually grown to be quite fond of the place. Particularly the rent. However, it’s rather cold, I know. I’m sorry. And so please do keep your coat on until we get up to my rooms …”
‘Suddenly, a hidden voice called out: “Mr Sweeney?”
‘A dim light appeared from under the steep stairs at the end of the long hall. An old maid wearing black clothes emerged from the jaundiced shaft and came towards us: “Is that you, Mr Sweeney?”
‘Nemo sighed, then said, “I’ve told you, it’s not Sweeney. Sweeney doesn’t live here any more. It’s only me now, Mrs Bunting.”
‘“But I heard him, heard him walking backwards down the stairs.”
‘“But he’s gone, long gone and never coming back.”
‘“Gone? Gone, you say? Well then, what shall I do for the rent? What ever shall I do? He had his faults, I know, his ways. But he was a good boy, he was. Like clockwork. He never missed.”
‘The old woman was stood before us now. In her black clothes, with her black hair, her sunken eyes and upturned nose, sharp cheeks and pointed chin, she looked me up and down, then said, “And who have we here then? Not come about the drains, have you?”
‘Nemo sighed again, apologised to me and said to the woman, “This is Mr Natsume. He’s come from Japan on government business. Here to research and to study all things literary. Now if you would be so kind …”
‘The old lady squeezed my hand, looked into my face and said, “Why, you are a handsome Jap, I must say, oh I do say. You know, I’m not from here myself. Not really. She was French, my mother.”
‘“Mrs Bunting, please,” said Nemo. “It’s getting late, we have not yet eaten, and so would you please bring us up a little supper.”
‘“I’ll do my best,” she said. “With what we have …”
‘Nemo took her hand from mine, steered me past her, down the hallway, then up two flights of stairs to a landing with three doors. He opened the door to the left, glanced inside and said, “Well, at least the woman kept the fire in. After you, Mr Natsume …”
‘The abundance of brightly burning coal was a most welcome sight indeed, and the room itself was also a pleasant surprise, with its warm red carpet and white silk curtains. There were two comfortable chairs before the fire, occasional tables here and there, well-stocked bookshelves and a rocking chair by the window. Nemo took my coat and offered me a chair. He changed into a maroon and elegantly embroidered satin dressing gown and then joined me by the fire. He put his hands together, stared into the flames a while, then turned to me and smiled and said, “Well, here we are.”
‘Yes, here we are, I said, but wondered why, why he had invited me, why I had accepted, why I’d come, come not only here, here to this room, this house, but come to this city, this country, leaving my daughter and my wife on the other side of the earth, my pregnant wife, my wife who never answered my letters, if she even received my letters, even read my letters, if she lived, they even lived, not burnt in a fire,
