Christopher and His Kind Page #3

As far as I know,

Lenin said nothing about buggery.

Dearest Heinrich.

He smelt exactly like a fox.

Delicious.

Haven't you gone yet, Ludo?

Do put something on.

You'll frighten the horses.

He's Polish.

He noticed I was staring at his wig

and asked if it was crooked.

"Just a little," I said.

And he straightened it.

- You like, ja?

- Ja, spot on.

- Window.

- Good.

Good.

Hm?

And this?

- Fish.

- No.

What is it?

Big fish?

No, no, this. What is this?

Whale?

No, it's a clock.

Clock. Ja.

Yes, good. And that's a dolphin.

- Was?

- Never mind.

That?

Frulein Schmidt?

Well?

What is that?

Oh, Christoph.

This is how I'd like to die!

Guten Morgen, Herr Hamilton.

Oh... good morning, Frulein Mayr.

Good morning.

Danke.

- Guten Morgen, Herr Isherwood.

- Guten Morgen, Frulein Thurau.

How sweet love must be.

Tonight, yes?

Jawohl.

Morning, darling.

I don't know half the people

who pass through this place.

But you've been here generations.

We must say hello.

Would you like coffee or tea?

I don't recommend the tea much.

I don't know what Frulein Thurau

does to it but it tastes like slops.

Tell me, Chris, what do you do?

- People tend not to call me Chris.

- I'm an actress.

Not at the moment. I'm singing in a nightclub.

But you must come and see me.

- What about tonight?

- Tonight's rather difficult.

Was that your boyfriend in the hall or a one-off?

I do find one-offs so much less of a hassle,

don't you, darling?

I've been here for centuries -

getting on three months, now.

I came here with a girlfriend

who assured me we'd get film work.

But then she was whisked away to Paris

by a fat banker, left me utterly stranded.

- How rotten!

- I don't care. I can stand on my own two feet.

But you don't mind being here alone?

One's always alone, ducky!

Surely you know that?

How old are you?

I'm practically antique.

I'm nearly 21.

I'm frightfully bright, you know.

I got myself expelled from school

by saying I was pregnant.

There was a terrible to-do

when they found out I wasn't.

I got myself sent down from Cambridge.

- I say!

- Flunked my tripos.

What a hoot!

I'm meeting a man in the Adlon for lunch.

He'll have to wait.

He has the most revolting underpants.

They're like camelhair, or something.

It's the sort of thing John the Baptist might wear.

Oh, Mummy would nearly die

if she knew what an old whore I am.

But one has to keep that horrid wolf

from the door, doesn't one?

Guten Tag.

Really!

How do you manage, darling?

I've started giving English lessons.

But actually, I'm a novelist.

A novelist? How perfectly marvellous.

- Are you published?

- My first novel, yes.

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