May wraps his overcoat around himself and draws his head down into it. He says, he
Finch says, that’s reasonable.
May says, I can still remember what it was like being thin. Did I tell you, I was only six, but I can remember it like it was yesterday. Jesus it was nice. Although I don’t suppose I appreciated it at the time.
Finch says, shut-up.
May says, he’s still trying to blow up that bloody statue and he’ll get caught. Probably blow himself up. Then we’ll be the ones that have to pinch everything. And we’ll get caught, or we’ll starve more like it.
Finch says, help him get some dynamite and then dob him in to the cops. While he’s in jail he couldn’t eat Florence Nightingale.
May says, and we wouldn’t eat anything. I wouldn’t mind so much if he just wanted to screw her. I wouldn’t mind screwing her myself.
Finch says, maybe he is. Already.
May pulls his overcoat tightly around himself and says, no, it’s whatshisname, the big guy, that’s who’s screwing her. Did you see them dancing? It’s him.
Finch says, I like him.
May says nothing. They have come near a main road and they wordlessly turn back, keeping away from the street lights, returning to the thistles.
Finch says, it was Nancy’s idea. She said why don’t we eat the statue.
May says, you told me already. You were nuts. She was nuts too but she was only joking. You should have known that he’s serious about everything. He really wants to blow up everything, not just the fucking statue.
Finch says, he’s a fascist.
May says, what’s a fascist?
Finch says, like Danko… like General Kooper… like Fantoni. He’s going to dig a hole in the backyard. He calls it the barbecue.
12.
In another two hours Finch will have earned enough money for the rent. Fantoni is paying him by the hour. In another two hours he will be clear and then he’ll stop. He hopes there is still two hours’ work. They are digging a hole among the dock weeds in the backyard. It is a trench like a grave but only three feet deep. He asked Milligan for the money but Milligan had already lent money to Glino and May.
Fantoni is wearing a pair of May’s trousers so he won’t get his own dirty. He is stripped to the waist and working with a mattock. Finch clears the earth Fantoni loosens; he has a long-handled shovel. Both the shovel and the mattock are new, they have appeared miraculously, like anything that Fantoni wants.
They have chosen a spot outside Finch’s window, where it is completely private, shielded from the neighbouring houses. It is a small private spot which Fantoni normally uses for sunbathing.
The top of Fantoni’s bristly head is bathed in sweat and small dams of sweat have caught in the creases on the back of his head; he gives strange grunts between swings and carries out a conversation with Finch who is too exhausted to answer.
He says, I want the whole thing… in writing, OK?… write it down… all the reasons… just like you explained it to me.
Finch is getting less and less earth on the shovel. He keeps aiming at the earth and overshooting it, collecting a few loose clods on the blade. He says, yes.
Fantoni takes the shovel from him. He says, you write that now, write all the reasons like you told me and I’ll count that as time working. How’s that?
And he pats Finch on the back.
Finch is not sure how it is. He cannot believe any of it. He cannot believe that he, Alexander Finch, is digging a barbecue to cook a beautiful girl called Florence Nightingale in the backyard of a house in what used to be called Royal Parade. He would not have believed it, and still cannot.
He says, thanks Fantoni.
Fantoni says, what I want, Finch, is a thing called a rationale… that’s the word isn’t it… they’re called rationales.
13.
The following is a suggested plan of action for the “Fat Men Against The Revolution”.
It is suggested that the Fat Men of this establishment pursue a course of militant love, by bodily consuming a senior member of the revolution, an official of the revolution, or a monument of the revolution (e.g. the 16 October Statue).
Such an act would, in the eyes of the revolution, be in character. The Fat Men of this society have been implicitly accused of (among other things) loving food too much, of loving themselves too much to the exclusion of the revolution. To eat a member or monument of the revolution could be seen as a way of turning this love towards the revolution. Eating is a total and literal act of consummation. The Fat Men would incorporate in their own bodies all that could be good and noble in the revolution and excrete that which is bad. In other words, the bodies of Fat Men will purify the revolution.
Alexander Finch shivers violently although it is very hot. He makes a fair copy of the draft. When he has finished he goes upstairs to the toilet and tries, unsuccessfully, to vomit.
Fantoni is supervising the delivery of a load of wood, coke, and kindling in the backyard. He is dressed beautifully in a white suit made from lightweight wool. He is smoking one of Florence Nightingale’s cigars.
As Finch descends the stairs he hears a loud shout and then, two steps later, a loud crash. It came from May’s room. And Finch knows without looking that May has thrown his bowl of goldfish against the wall. May loved his goldfish.
14.
At dinner Finch watches Fantoni eat the omelette that Glino has cooked for him. Fantoni cuts off dainty pieces. He buries the dainty pieces in the small fleshy orifice beneath his large moustache.
15.
May wakes him at 2 a.m. He says, I’ve just realized where she is. She’ll be with her brother. That’s where she’ll be. I wrote her a letter.
Finch says, Florence Nightingale.
May says, my wife.
16.
