‘Why you rich bloody Jew, imagine.’
‘That’s right lady, I’m even richer, bloodier and more Jewish than you could ever dream. So go fuck yourself.’
Daniel closing the door. Saluting from the peak of his cap and giving a smiling bow to the lady. Schultz falling backwards on the upholstery and pulling the rug up over his head and face. The smell of wool and dust.
‘Daniel take me to Farm Street Church.’
The limousine cutting in and out the narrow lanes through Mayfair and rolling to a stop down this familiar South Street. Past the children’s school and their daily babble of voices I remember a couple of times walking by here. The red brick big block of flats. The pub. And the peeling boughs of the trees in front of this church.
‘Daniel get me the evening papers, I’m just going in to pray awhile.’
‘Right you are captain. And no harm should be befalling you in there with himself the biggest chest thumper of them all, up there looking down protecting you while I’m for the moment on other business.’
Schultz pushing through the doors. Entering this sombre darkness. Smell of incense. Dark figures, their backs and heads bend in prayer. I’m not the only one upon whom the trouble descends. Sitting here in a pew. Holy fuck. Binky. Gone. Busted. Finished. The office under siege. The whole world ended. But anti semitism still alive and kicking. Hey Rabbi they could, everybody, take me for everything. Sigmund, no they couldn’t, first your foreskin is already gone. And second you would still have your good Jewish looks. O boy, fat lot of good they just did me in Fortnum’s. And shit I was nearly on the verge of shouting out loud. That I am you cunts locked in the throes of a desperate depression on the fucking horns of a dilemma that’s double pronged deep up my ass. O boy. I could be fucking next candidate for bankrupt exile. And here I am in the religious candlelight thinking of Louella. Looking for love is the wildest goose chase of all time. On her back opening her legs for the god damn carpenter to fuck her. Jesus that’s where all this premature ejaculation has come from. A fucking hard up scruffy kid. That’s who she was seeing or looking for the day once she said she walked by the theatre. That’s who was there when every time she was pretending no one was there in Al’s apartment. And other times she was gone somewhere else. Holy shit all these fucking progressive liberated women have all the god damn traits they despise in men. Like wanting to fuck anyone they want. And boy let me tell you Rabbi, that even includes these days the whole of the animal kingdom. And I hope I will never meet such a pervert. But jesus Louella. Also let me tell you Rabbi she has tits that when held sent a jolt of lightning down into my nerve cells. Sigmund, remember, your sensory palm fronds are above average in sensitivity. You betcha Rabbi. And it’s time to light some candles. Read the little cards reminding of the deaths of the dead. Freddie Joy. O jesus. With you I could have been a masochist or a sadist. Now your memory is turning me into a necrophile. Because I just thought of fucking you. Even down in your grave. Holy shit Rabbi, like I saw a person do, I’m blessing myself with holy water. That’s OK Sigmund, just don’t drink it, or you’ll be pissing like a Catholic.
Organ music playing and a choir singing. A bell ringing. A priest entering on the altar. This is beautiful. Smoke rising up from that golden thing they’re swinging. Nearly as nice as the synagogue. Fuck. Why not. I could even get driven to begin to believe in a Catholic black magic God if things get any worse. Trouble pouring out of people everywhere you go. Now I’m on an errand of mercy. And got to get rid of these jewels. Before I’m tempted to fucking auction them off to one of those guys locked behind a dozen gates and doors trading in gems. Or even I could jump a plane to New York. Get Uncle Werb to get me a price on Forty Seventh Street. O christ why did someone have to rely their trust in me.
Schultz returning to the church entrance. Standing aside holding the door open for an old lady in a shawl. Wow. From the profile of her face, I nearly suddenly thought it was mom. My mom. With the scandal in my life making her premature old with worry. And having just learned one thing. The average age of people in prayer is not young. O jesus where’s my car. Wait on the outside steps. It’s got dark and chilly. When all this part of Mayfair was meadow, you could imagine this quiet little street, that ducks must have once gone down, going quack quack quack. Jesus I’m cold. And beginning not to feel safe out of vicinity of Daniel. O boy. Thank god, here he comes.
‘Welcome back aboard sir.’
‘Thanks Daniel.’
‘And I trust the praying went well.’
‘Yeah, I sure as hell hope so. Let’s go the fastest way to Westminster, to three thousand three nine nine Vincent Square.’
‘Ah I know the vicinity well sir. Not far from Pimlico. Didn’t I work in the basement of a shop there by the military name of Army and Navy. And sure we will slip there in a jiffy. As now’s the time to get back across town without too much traffic.’
The empty streets of Mayfair. Offices closed. The people gone home. The rich getting bathed and dressed in their flats, townhouses and hotels and ready to go to dinner. Or better with tickets booked to see the show. Champagne time. I could use a glass right now in the car. Switch on the reading lamp. Open the evening paper. Holy christ talk of where we’re going and here is another page one headline scandal in Westminster. Another member of parliament caught consorting with harlots. And holy jeez. What’s this on page three. Londoner’s Diary are on to it already.
HAS OUR BINKY DONE A BUNK
The only son of the fabled society beauty the late Lady Ottoline and known to his intimates as the blond Adonis, this reporter not so long ago had the great pleasure to announce the impending extravagant musical to be staged by the elusively eccentric impresario Mr Binky Sunningdale. But we now understand from his lawyers that he has, due to an acute bronchial condition, left for the sunnier Continent and an unknown destination for an extended holiday. However, Mr Sunningdale has, it appears, left behind him considerable consternation concerning his now abandoned musical. According to stage-set builders, costumiers and other numerous prominent theatrical firms plus a prominent composer and playwright and others who have worked on the project, all seem at a loss to know when their bills and fees will be paid. And we hear as a result that Equity have declared Mr Sunningdale persona non grata.
Mrs Sunningdale, reached at her parents’ country address, confirmed that she and her husband were estranged, but that she had nothing to do with her husband leaving a trail of unpaid bills. Pursued by creditors though he may be and Mr Sunningdale having taken his solemn step across the Channel, I for one still retain my faith in this gracious and graceful gentleman. And predict he will return, to amuse and entertain us once more. But meanwhile I suppose one says au revoir and bon voyage to his departed charm. And if one might indulge a mite more French, I shall reserve part of me, Binky dear, au plaisir de vous revoir.
Holy fuck look at the benign publicity he’s getting while I get insultingly crucified and sexually ridiculed in the bloody rags. The bloody reporter is writing a public love letter to him. O boy Rabbi I get out of bed for my first few hours and look what happens. But Sigmund worse could be if you couldn’t get out of bed.
The limousine passing soaring fluted shapes of the Houses of Parliament. Big Ben tolling six thirty. A hoot of a barge on the river. The car turning right, cruising through the Westminster streets. Into this square on this darkening eve. Daniel slowing reading the numbers of the houses. Stopping in front of number three thousand three nine nine. O christ it is just like the countryside. Look at this sweet sweet house.
‘I’ll only be a second Daniel.’
‘Take as long as you want now. And I’ll be reading the newspapers, and taking the long distance calls. No hurry.’
Schultz opening the little gate and walking along the narrow path between the flower beds. Entering a warm little hall and climbing the stairs. A white painted door at the end of a red carpeted corridor. Jesus amazing, that’s a smell reminds me of something familiar. Flowers som
ewhere. No it’s perfume. Boy what an idyllic cosy little place this is. Even a palm and plants in a flowerpot on the floor. This could be the answer to my life. A fucking girl already delivered and paid for. And if I know Binky this doll’s got to be an exotic beauty. That I could team up with while he’s all washed up and away. Jesus much as he may now be ruined, I still have to envy the son of a bitch. Plus the other flat he kept for his little seances. A stage, lighting and boy, what performers. And all this is hidden away here in this nice cut off peace and quiet smack in the centre of London. An area I never knew even existed. If only I didn’t have such bad memories connected with pasta, I’d come here for pasta anytime. Christ if you’re home, open up honey, will you, I really got the crock of gold they say waits at the bottom of the rainbow for you. Rap again. Jesus there’s a key turning. Locking the bloody door. She obviously thinks with what’s been going on that I’m the bailiff. And I better pretend in my best cockney to be a telegram announcing a lottery win.
‘Who is it please.’
‘Telegram madam. Urgent.’
The door unlocking. Opening a fraction. Lavender bath smells wafting out the crack. The sleeve of a white towel bathrobe. And just a sniff I catch of that rarefied musky perfume I know from somewhere. Holy shit this is giving me a fucking hard on already. Honey. Open wide will you. It’s Santa Claus out here. He’s got presents you’re never going to forget, and wouldn’t believe, that he’s going to give you.
‘Just hand it through the opening please.’
‘I have something from Mr Sunningdale. Hey wait a second. Who is this behind the door. I don’t believe it. Hey don’t try and close this door. You’ve got, O my god, you fucking got my fingers. My fingers. Jesus open. Before I knock it open. And rip this fucking place apart. Let me in you fucking bitch Louella god damn it.’
Schultz a foot in the door pulling his fingers out. Leaning back. Shoving his shoulder slamming forward knocking the door open. A shadow retreating into the small sitting room and shrinking back into the darkness. The faint light through the bow window from a street lamp outside. Holy mackerel what’s this, a motorcycle in the middle of the room and jeez talk about cornered animals.
‘Go ahead get back in there. Into the fucking room. No one is going to lay a hand on you don’t worry. Do you fucking think I would even be bothered. Jesus I thought you were just a two timing bitch. Honey you’re a triple timing bitch. Nowhere to go, huh. Except cross town. Sneaking out of the garage at Al’s and over here to this nice and convenient little change of scene here in Westminster. I think they call this the area of the division bell or something for voting in Parliament.’ ‘I don’t give a damn what you think. And it’s none of your business.’ ‘Honey you’d be surprised how much of my business this suddenly is. Miss Nice. To all the guys. That’s you isn’t it. Hey and the menu. The carpenter’s dinner. Pasta. Jesus you should change it honey. And what have you got cooking tonight honey. More pasta. Huh.’
‘Get out please. Get out.’
‘Honey. You think I’ve come here looking for you. I’m a messenger here. Nothing more and maybe plenty less. And nothing is more urgent on my mind than to get out of here as quick as I fucking can. Jesus. Here I am thinking for once the tables are turned. And it’s me who’s having the last laugh. But this is funny anyway. Ha. Ha. Ha.’
‘Stop that bloody phoney laugh of yours.’
‘Honey it’s the first I’ve had for weeks I’m telling you and it’s fucking genuine, no kidding. And I’m enjoying it.’
‘Well I’m not.’
‘So. After all this time. Comes the solution.’
‘Get out and leave me alone please. Please.’
‘Honey cry. Here’s the towel you dropped. I recognized the perfume all the way out in the fucking hall. And I’m going to also leave you alone. For exactly the rest of my life. And maybe that old fart Al should too if he’s smart.’
‘O Sigmund. O Sigmund. It’s you who I have truly always loved. I have. It was simply that Binky is so utterly beautiful as a person physically and spiritually. And he seduced me. And I couldn’t help myself.’
‘What. Hey hold it. I don’t believe this. What are you an actress. Giving a performance. No one denies men are falling all over in love with you honey. But what am I supposed to be, physically and spiritually ugly.’
‘Binky is my kind of person. You and Al are American. Not that you aren’t beautiful too. You see I don’t want to lose any of you.’
‘Any of us. Hey what are you trying to conduct. A harem in reverse.’
‘Don’t you accuse me.’
‘Well anyway I’m one less prick for you honey. And maybe there’s two less since Binky left this afternoon on the train.’
‘You don’t know everything that’s happened.’
‘Yes I do honey. I sure do.’
‘The caretaker has already been to say the locks are being changed. I have to get out of here. I’ve no money. This is just a furnished sublet flat. No job to go to. I can only go back to stay at Al’s for a few days before I have to pack up. His wife smeared excrement all over the place. And until I find somewhere I have nowhere to go. Please and I beg you on my bended knees. Look I’m kneeling. I beg of you not to tell Al. He’s now all I got left. And could you loan me some money.’ ‘Boy this conversation is getting ridiculous. Will wonders of the female imagination never cease. Ha ha. Lend you money.’
‘O please. I’m not well. I’m not.’
‘Jesus honey even standing there in this feeble light you look the picture of health. And I’d like to know what a fucking motorbike is doing here in the sitting room.’
‘I’ve been so tired. I’ve been coughing and I’ve had headaches.’ ‘Well honey, my sympathy. I’ve just been nearly a month in bed and not once did you enquire or come to see me or give a fuck how I was.’
‘Don’t you see I was worried about Al. On his deathbed all these weeks.’
‘Well get ready honey, he’s off it. And with his toupee back on and according to recent reports from New York, you may not be all that Al’s got left.’
‘Why.’
‘Well with Al’s gaskets working again honey. As you know some poor little impressionable girl’s getting her picture in the newspaper gossip columns having got a big snow job from Al that he’s laying the carpet for her to stroll on into the big time. Need I say more about that trumpet tooting monster celebrity slob.’
‘How dare you call him that.’
‘That’s what he is. And that’s what I call him. But you’ve still got that fucking carpenter who can’t drive a god damn nail straight and left one sticking out of the stage scenery which went an inch deep into the ass of Margot in the chorus line. While I was sick in bed with other worries. Now I have just one more action for damages pending. While I was wasting time mooning over you.’
‘You’re still married. What about me mooning.’
‘I’m fucking well in the middle of a divorce pending. You know that. The whole nation knows it. If you read a certain Sunday rag, and if she has anything to do with it the whole fucking world is going to know it from New York to Vladivostok.’
‘You’re bitter.’
‘That’s right I’m bitter. And let me tell you being bitter is better than being bankrupt because that’s what she thinks she’s going to make me.’
‘Well I know already how it feels to be bankrupt.’
‘So honey this is the friend’s house you stay in where I couldn’t ring you a couple of times. And I guess the motorcycle is modern art in action or something. I’m tempted to say voom voom. Otherwise pretty fucking cosy honey. Pretty fucking cosy. Doesn’t have Al’s spacious dentist’s modern atmosphere or aerial view but that’s a nice night time rural looking scene out the window there.’
‘Well why have you bloody well come here then. Who told you.’
‘I was sent here, honey. On an urgent errand. And as it happens by the guy who presumably paid the rent and upkeep.’
; ‘Well now that you’ve seen it why don’t you just go and mind your own bloody business and leave me alone. I’m packing and dressing.’ ‘Because honey, at this fucking second, you are my business but I’m deliberating right now whether I do just walk out of here.’
‘Well walk then. I’ve got to stay till people come to collect this motorbike. And you can enjoy the satisfaction that you leave me sick. And will soon leave me hungry. And leave me with nowhere to go. And I’ll be relieved if you do.’
‘You’ll be relieved all right honey, let me tell you. O boy. Let a woman rat on you once. And jesus she won’t stop till she’s done it nine times like a cat has lives.’
‘All right you’ve said your resentful piece. Get out. Get out. Leave me. Go get back into that big bloody pretentious car I can see parked down there. That your ego needs so badly.’
‘Well I might just do that honey. I might just do that.’
‘She’s right your wife. You’re nothing but a big show off embittered megalomaniac.’
‘Honey do just one thing for me will you please. Before maybe you soon have to go out searching to get a cheap little flea pit hotel to stay in. Just stand back a little over there. And turn the shade on that lamp. And just put one of the sofa cushions there in the middle of the floor.’ ‘Why, why should I do what you tell me.’
‘Well in the words of the lawyers honey, if you do like I say you may learn something to your advantage. I just want some room between us. So I can throw something on the floor.’
‘I don’t trust you.’
‘Trust me honey. Go ahead. Do it. It could be you’ll never have to worry about trusting anybody ever again.’
‘Stop this. Stop. Get out. You’re not going to set up some kind of criminal court to make a moral mockery out of me. I love Al. I love the carpenter. I love Binky. But I’m beginning to finally despise you.’ ‘Here. Let me then turn on this fucking light and put this pillow on the floor. Because I wouldn’t do you the dignity of handing these to you. Yeah. That’s right. Open your eyes in amazement honey. They’re from Binky. Fucking jewels. That I’m fucking well throwing at your bare feet. Which you obviously all these months have earned. On top of what you extracted out of Al. And by the way when you’re selling them get plenty of opinions. You don’t deserve this good advice. But during appraisals don’t let the jewels out of your sight even for a second. Someone could pull a switch and cheat you. And I won’t ruin your evening with over optimism by telling you what I think they might be worth. But they sure are worth more than your moral value honey. That’s right cry. Let the tears pour down. And just a thought. Maybe you ought to get a jeweller somewhere to make you a crown. Stick the gems in it. Then you’ll have something nice to put on your head at your coronation as the queen of faithfulness and loyalty. And one consistent thing at least, could be that the guys, if you infect them, should all have the same diseases. And here’s a little laugh. Right now honey, believe it or not you could buy and sell me. And here’s an even bigger laugh. I still fucking well desperately love you.’