White Teeth

19 The Final Space

So said the ba

‘ “When Dr Marcus Chalfen puts his FutureMouse on public display this evening he begins a new chapter in our genetic future.” ’

Crispin threw his head back for a loud, ‘Ha!’

‘Yeah, right, exactly,’ continued Ke

‘Ha!’ snorted Crispin once more, this time turning right around in his seat so the FATE minibus (which wasn’t officially the FATE minibus; it still had KENSAL RISE FAMILY SERVICES UNIT in ten-inch yellow letters on either side; a loan from a social worker with furry animal sympathies) only narrowly missed a gaggle of pissed-up high-heeled girls who were tottering across the road. ‘No political agenda? Is he taking the fucking piss?’

‘Keep your eyes on the road, darling,’ said Joely, blowing him a kiss. ‘We want to at least try to get there in one piece. Umm, left here… down the Edgware Road.’

‘Fucker,’ said Crispin, glowering at Joshua and then turning back. ‘What a fucker he is.’

‘ “By 1999,” ’ read Ke

‘Pass. Me. The. Fuck. Ing. Buck. Et,’ said Crispin, as if the very words were vomit. ‘What do the other papers say?’

Paddy held up Middle England’s bible so Crispin could see it in the rear-view. Headline: MOUSEMANIA.

‘It comes with a free FutureMouse sticker,’ said Paddy, shrugging his shoulders and slapping the sticker on his beret. ‘Pretty cute, actually.’

‘The tabloids are a surprise wi

‘I can’t see it properly. What is it?’

‘It’s Chalfen’s head with mouse ears, attached to a goat’s torso, which is attached to a pig’s arse. And he’s eating from a trough that says “Genetic Engineering” at one end and “Public Money” at the other. Headline: CHALFEN CHOWS DOWN.’

‘Nice. Every little helps.’

Crispin went round the roundabout again, and this time got the turning he required. Mi

‘God, he looks more fucking Chalfenist than ever!’

Joshua bitterly regretted telling Crispin about this little idiosyncracy of his family, their habit of referring to themselves as verbs, nouns and adjectives. It had seemed a good idea at the time; give everybody a laugh; confirm, if there was any doubt, whose side he was on. But he never felt that he’d betrayed his father – the weight of what he was doing never really hit him – until he heard Chalfenism ridiculed out of Crispin’s mouth.

‘Look at him Chalfening around in that trough. Exploit everything and everybody, that’s the Chalfen way, eh Josh?’

Joshua grunted and turned his back on Crispin, in favour of the window and a view of the frost over Hyde Park.

‘That’s a classic photo, there, see? The one they’ve used for the head. I remember it; that was the day he gave evidence in the California trial. That look of total fucking superiority. Very Chalfenesque!’

Joshua bit his tongue. DON’T RISE TO IT. IF YOU DON’T RISE TO IT, YOU GAIN HER SYMPATHY.

‘Don’t, Crisp,’ said Joely firmly, touching Joshua’s hair. ‘Just try to remember what we’re about to do. He doesn’t need that tonight.’

BINGO.

‘Yeah, well…’

Crispin put his foot down on the accelerator. ‘Mi

‘Yeah, all done. It’s cool.’

‘Good.’ Crispin pulled out a small silver box filled with all the necessaries to roll a fat joint and threw it in Joely’s direction, catching Joshua painfully on the shin.

‘Make us one, love.’

CUNT.

Joely retrieved the box from the floor. She worked crouching with the Rizla resting on Joshua’s knee, her long neck exposed, her breasts falling forward until they were practically in his hands.

‘Are you nervous?’ she asked him, flicking her head back once the joint was rolled.

‘How d’you mean, nervous?’

‘About tonight. I mean, talk about conflict of loyalties.’

‘Conflict?’ murmured Josh hazily, wishing he were out there with the happy people, the conflict-free people, the New Year people.