Turtle Diary (21 page)

‘It’s what she wanted,’ I said. Sandor nodded emphatically.

‘Do it how she wanted,’ he said.

‘That at least,’ said Mrs Inchcliff.

‘There’s just one more thing,’ said Mrs Mortimer. ‘I hate to mention it but our prices went up last week. The “Ely” is now £121.50 instead of £109.50. The rest of it’s the same: £7.00 for sanitizing and robing, £13.00 for the crematorium which includes the minister but I don’t think I can get a rebate even if there’s no service, 50p gratuity for the chappie at the crem. That comes to £142.00 instead of £130.00, so there’s £12.00 owing.’

I wrote a cheque for the additional £12.00 for the ‘Ely’. So many things have names: wedding cakes, babies’ prams, cars and coffins.

‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Mortimer. ‘We’ll have the body brought over from the mortuary. Cremation will be on Tuesday and she’ll be here at the chapel of rest until then. In her instructions she said no viewing and no flowers please.’

No viewing, no flowers, no funeral service and no one at the cremation. Well, funerals are for the living. For good or ill one sees the dead removed from the scene and the departure is final. Miss Neap having been cheated of companionship while
living wished to remain an undeparted presence when dead. Fair enough.

Miss Neap had died on Sunday, this was Thursday. That made four days running Sandor’d left the bath and cooker clean.

It used to be that I stayed up till all hours and still felt time-starved, none of the day seemed to be metabolized into living. Now the minutes make me strong.

Frost this morning. Sharp it was, the air rang with it. I got up early and walked down the New King’s Road to Parsons Green. Near where William lives there was a dead cat by a bus stop, pretty well flattened out. He looked as if he’d been run over by a lorry. A grey stripy tom he was with a head like a Roman senator, one eye open, one eye shut. His whole corpse seemed expressive of the WHAM! when his life met his death. He looked as if he’d been one hundred per cent alive until the lorry closed his account in the flower of his tomcathood and his mortal remains were cheerful rather than depressing. To live with a yowl and die with a WHAM! Thinking about him whilst walking back I stopped and wrote:

Stiff but not formal
    A dead cat says hello
This winter morning.

Later I’d be having lunch with George at the Aquarium: sandwiches by the salt-water tanks, the poshest spot in town. Between now and then were all kinds of minutes, all of them good. Who knew what might happen at the typewriter?

Before going up to the flat I went into the square, played hop-scotch in it just as it was, with no fountain.

Autumn kept going with fewer and fewer brown and yellow leaves until a big rain came just as it always does. Wham! Bare trees, winter, black mornings, people walking fast.

This morning near the bus stop by a tree a dead cat said hello to me. There he was, he too had gone into winter with a wham. He looked as if he’d been flying high until he was brought down. I’ve never seen such a lively-looking dead cat.

The morning had nothing special to recommend it, the shop was full of people wanting biros and greeting cards, neither of which we sell. But I felt good.

At lunch-time I bought a bottle of Moët et Chandon and went up to the Zoo. In the tube I thought about Miss Neap and Mr Sandor and Mrs Inchcliff. With no funeral to go to we’d found ourselves drawn together somehow and remembering her but not altogether mournfully. In fact we all got drunk and Sandor sang gypsy songs. Rather well too. Odd but not really. If Flora Angelica Neap was going to be an undeparted presence she’d have to share the good times as well as the bad. And I could imagine good times, why I don’t know. Nothing was different or better and I didn’t think I was either but I didn’t mind being alive at the moment. After all who knew what might happen?

Camden Town is the windiest tube station I know. Coming up on the escalator with my hair flying I felt as if I was coming out of a dark place and into the light, then I laughed because that’s what I was actually doing.

At the Aquarium I said hello to the two turtles, then opened
various PRIVATE doors until I found George Fairbairn. Neaera was with him and they were eating sandwiches by the salt-water tanks. I gave George the champagne.

‘I was just passing by,’ I said, ‘and I thought I’d drop this off.’

‘Lovely,’ said George. ‘Cheers! What’s the occasion?’

‘Just that I was passing by,’ I said.

They wanted me to stay and drink it with them but I couldn’t stop. I took a taxi back to the shop, it was that kind of day.

Russell Hoban (1925-2011) was the author of many extraordinary novels including
Turtle Diary, Angelica Lost and Found and his masterpiece, Riddley Walker.
He also wrote some classic books for children including
The Mouse and his Child and the Frances
books. Born in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, USA, he lived in London from 1969 until his death.

NOVELS

The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz
Kleinzeit
Turtle Diary
Riddley Walker
Pilgermann
The Medusa Frequency
Fremder
Mr Rinyo-Clacton’s Offer
Angelica’s Grotto
Amaryllis Night and Day
The Bat Tattoo
Her Name Was Lola
Come Dance With Me
Linger Awhile
My Tango with Barbara Strozzi
Angelica Lost and Found

POETRY
The Pedalling Man
The Last of the Wallendas and Other Poems

COLLECTIONS
The Moment Under the moment

FOR CHILDREN
The Mouse and His Child
The Frances Books
The Trokeville Way

First published by Jonathan Cape Ltd 1975

Copyright © 1975 by Russell Hoban

This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Extracts in
chapter nine
by courtesy of the
Trustees of the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich

Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square
London WC1B 3DP

A CIP catalogue record is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 4088 3528 9

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

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