Mr Lonely, page 10
‘Two bleeding grand, Sid.’
‘It’s a lot of money.’
‘How’s Clare?’
‘Carrie’s fine.’
‘And Elizabeth?’
‘Elspeth’s fine, too, but it’s going to take a while—’
‘Cliff’s coming at the end of September.’
‘Great.’ Sid sipped his drink. ‘The doctor says the marks on her face will—’
‘Do you like Serina?’
‘How do you mean?’ Sid took a larger sip.
‘Is she any good?’
‘… Good? Any good …? I would say, er, she seems to be doing fine … Fine. I think they like her.’ Sid felt Al’s eyes asking all the questions. He now knew how Jerry felt when Tom had him over a boiling-hot frying-pan.
‘Do you think she’s got hot pants?’
‘Hot what, Manny? I mean, Al …’
‘You know, do you think she’s crumpet?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’
‘How long are you staying tonight, Al?’ Sid said.
‘She’s a pretty girl. She’s Jewish like me. I’m Jewish, did you know?’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You’re not, are you?’
‘Not really. Only if my job depends on it. Then I would be, just a little bit.’
Al smiled. ‘Which bit?’
‘The bit the rabbi threw away.’
‘It’s the way you tell ‘em,’ Al said and laughed out loud. ‘I don’t think Manny likes her.’
‘No?’
‘Another Scotch?’
‘No thanks, Al.’
‘Is she here tonight?’
‘Who?’
‘Serina.’
‘Er … I think so, although I haven’t seen her.’
‘Pretty kid. Keeps up with the fashion. The women punters like that. She came on stage last week wearing glasses on the back of her head. That’s what I call style. Nobody saw till she turned round and walked off—’ There was a knock at the door. ‘Yes?’
‘Benny.’
‘Come in, Benny,’ Al invited. Benny was the bouncer, built like the side of Windsor Castle and thicker.
‘Sorry, guv. It’s the police.’
‘What about them?’
‘Well, there’s only one and it’s pissing down outside so I fought, should I give ‘im a drink, you know. I fink it’s a good fing to keep in wiv the law, like.’
‘Bring him into the club, Benny, and give him anything he wants.’
‘Right, guv.’ Benny left.
‘Well,’ said Sid, ‘I think I’d better go and motivate with your guests, Al.’ Sid made for the door. ‘Give my regards to Manny when you see him.’
‘Thanks, Sid, and if you see …’
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing.’
Sid closed the office door and left. The first people he saw were Joyce and Lionel. They had their backs to him so he walked quietly towards them and said, ‘Will somebody introduce me to Marge and Gower Champion?’
Joyce turned and flung her arms around Sid and hugged him tightly like the old friend he was, while Lionel stepped back and did a dance routine for three seconds that would have taken anyone else a chorus and a half. Joyce asked about Carrie and Elspeth, while Lionel just let what was the brownest face in the club wrinkle into more wrinkles. He shook his head six times quite hard to prove that his hair was real and said, ‘Sid, you don’t look a day older. You couldn’t.’ The three of them laughed as Sid guided them to a table.
The office door opened a little and Al Keppleman squeezed his way out and walked around the dark side of the club to the dressing-rooms. As Sid settled Joyce and Lionel at the table there was a fellow being helped out by a couple of friends. Sid did not see who it was, but he never heard ‘It’s the way I tell ‘em’ again that evening.
Serina was in her dressing-room, putting the finishing touches to her make-up for the third time in the last half hour. On the dressing-table, under the cups of her spare bra, were a bottle of Scotch and a bottle of gin almost completely hidden. Next to them was a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.
As Al stole slowly along the dark side of the club, trying to keep his presence and his destination a secret from everyone, he watched the entertainers performing, albeit for free, and thought, Some of these people shouldn’t be allowed in my club, or any other club, for that matter. He looked at them as he walked silently along, performing, eating, drinking and, later on, complaining.
Why do they always complain? he thought. Pros complain at anything. It doesn’t matter how good it is, how expensive, or how cheap, or how free: they complain. They are born complainers. They complain the beer’s cold, the beer’s warm, the beer’s perfect but the glass is chipped. What do you mean we have to go to the bar and get it ourselves? I know the food’s free—it will be the leftovers from last night. No they have a firm in to do it … Who? I think it’s Benyalls—worst catering firm in the whole of London, the complaining pro says as he stamps out his cigarette on the carpet as if he was at home.
Al was making his way to the door that led from the auditorium to backstage. At the moment there was a woman soprano singing on the stage with no music. She was singing something from Madame Butterfly. She was terrible and looked old enough to remember Madame Butterfly as a caterpillar.
He reached the door without once being seen or spoken to. He put out his hand and casually turned the handle. Oh, hell, it was locked. Why was it locked? What berk had locked it? Al couldn’t go up on stage to get backstage. Everybody would see him and they would all know he was going to see Serina for a little bit of naughty … That’s what Al thought, anyway. If he took his glasses off and his jacket and walked quickly across the stage with a limp, no one would recognize him. He did and no one recognized him—except Benny, who was already backstage showing the Law around the club.
’ ‘Ello, boss. Just showing the Law around the club, guv.’
‘Yes, of course, good,’ said Al. ‘Well done, Benny. I’m er … just having a look around, too. You know, just to see if everything is running smoothly. I’ve just come from the office. Who locked the intercommunicating door?’ His eyes flashed.
‘Wot, guv?’
‘The intercom—The door leading backstage.’
‘I did,’ Benny said proudly.
‘Why?’ Al asked with controlled temper.
‘You said to, guv. You said to keep that door locked because we don’t want everybody using the dressing-rooms for a bit of nookey. That’s what you said, guv.’
‘Yes. You’re right, of course, I did, and you were right, Benny. I was just asking who’d locked it because whoever it was had done a great job on locking it. You see what happens, Constable. Entertainers are known for that kind of thing … er … right, off you go, Benny, and lock my office door, there’s a good lad. I’ll be back in a few minutes, so stay close to the office, okay, Benny?’
‘Yes, guv. Come on, ‘Enry.’ Benny and Henry left backstage. Al, who was perspiring quite freely, looked around, then made his way towards Serina’s dressing-room. As Benny and Henry were walking across the stage and while the same woman was now singing some song from The Barber of Seville, Benny said, ‘Mr Keppleman’s a good boss. He’s going to give Miss Serina one now. Mind you, he’s dropped a bit lucky. He almost bumped into his brother.’
‘His brother?’
‘They’re both giving her one but neither of them know,’ Benny explained. He and Henry walked towards the noise and the crowd.
‘Hello, Benny,’ said Sid, strolling up.
‘Hello, Sid.’
‘I haven’t seen you all evening.’
‘You saw me inside the office when I said about the Law. Well, this is ‘im, ‘Enry. ‘Enry—Sid. Sid—‘Enry.’ Nods were exchanged. ‘Sid’s our compère.’
‘Is he looking after the law, the way the law should be looked after …?’ Sid asked.
‘Well, my coat and helmet are in the cloakroom,’ said ‘Enry.
‘Coat and helmet? Sounds like a German double act.’ Benny thought for a second and then guffawed. Sid, thinking he had a captive audience, carried on, ‘My brother-in-law was in the police.’
‘Was he really?’ The perfect feed line, given quite genuinely.
‘Yeh. He was no good, though. He couldn’t catch his pants on a nail. He went to a robbery once and the thief had been wearing calf-skinned gloves and my brother-in-law arrested a cow in Shropshire.’ Benny didn’t laugh this time and Henry smiled a policeman’s smile, the one that makes you realize that they know you’re taking the hit and miss out of them.
‘We gotta go now,’ said Benny. ‘I’ve gotta lock up the office.’
‘Why? Has Al gone?’
‘Yeah … He’s gone to see his little bird, ain’t he?’
‘Who, Benny? What little bird?’
‘Well, wiv any luck right now he’ll be going it wiv Miss Serina, won’t he?’
Sid gave nothing away. If the copper had been Sherlock Holmes looking at him through a magnifying glass, he wouldn’t have seen a flicker or a twitch, but if Sherlock had had a stethoscope he would have heard Sid’s heart miss a couple of beats.
‘Surely not before her big number?’ Sid said sharply.
‘Nah! Before her big mirror.’ Benny laughed till tears rolled down his face. Henry was completely out of his depth, not quite sure what it was all about. ‘Come on, ‘Enry,’ Benny said, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand, then taking out his hankie and wiping his hands on it.
Henry smiled. ‘Nice meeting you, Sid, and thanks for the laughs.’
‘Pleasure. You can get ‘em all in a good joke book. Take care. I know Benny don’t speak proper and he’s built like a brick cooling tower, but watch out, he’s a poofta as well … Give us a kiss and I’ll prove it.’
‘There’s some funny people about,’ Henry said, as he walked away.
‘I hope that includes me,’ Sid shouted back.
The smoke and the noise of the party coupled with the Al and Serina news started to irritate Sid. But so what, he thought. I mean, if she wants to keep her job, why not? She’s sitting on a fortune so good luck to her. Hell fire, she can’t really sing. I mean, she couldn’t hold a tune if it had handles on it. He walked towards the bar, thinking, I wonder if I should go backstage, knock on Serina’s door and frighten the Eartha Kitt out of Al. He almost laughed out loud. He arrived at the bar and ordered a whiskey.
Sid was still smiling when he was joined by Jimmy Parker. Jimmy was an actor in his late thirties, good-looking but going to seed: drink was beginning to win through, though he was still an excellent television and stage actor. He seemed always to be in a play on television or in the West End. Straight or comedy, he could play both with surprising ease. Tonight his dress was the actor’s outfit—faded jeans, Kickers on his feet, a Rugby shirt covered by an old sweater and, round his neck, Snoopy on a gold chain. By the look of him, he’d had quite a few ‘wets’ that evening. His hair wasn’t in all the right places but the girl he was with was right in all the best places. Sid thought, Where does he find these girls? I don’t see a looker like that more than twice a year. Yet this under-dressed, over-drunk actor can have a gem like this one by his side. Where do they find them? There must be an agency for them. The Great Chicks Agency.
Jim said to the barman, ‘Same for me, a large one, and a Babycham.’
‘Hello, Jim,’ said Sid.
‘Sid. Er, have you met …? What’s your name, kid?’
She held out her hand and said, ‘Estelle.’ She didn’t seem to mind Jimmy being drunk, untidy or rude.
‘Hello, Estelle, are you enjoying yourself?’ asked Sid.
‘Yes, thank you, it’s a very good party and a very nice place,’ she said easily.
Jim had his drink in his hand, leaving Estelle’s Babycham on the bar. Sid did his duty and handed her the Babycham.
‘Thank you,’ she smiled.
Jim was leaning with his back to the bar in between Sid and Estelle. People were milling around them, trying to get to the bar.
‘What are you doing at the moment, Jim?’ Sid asked loudly.
‘Her,’ he shouted back louder and laughed. Estelle’s eyes never moved from Sid’s. There was no reaction to Jim-lad’s comment, nor did she seem hurt or embarrassed by it. Sid tried to make room for someone to get to the bar. He was now next to Estelle.
‘Are you an actress? Are you in the business?’ he said.
‘Her? Jesus wept!’ Jim laughed out loud. At least it moved him from the bar. ‘Her leg was in a cast once. The nearest she gets to a theatre is when she tries to pick up the doorman.’ Sid felt uncomfortable for Estelle but her eyes never left his. Maybe she’s deaf, he thought.
‘Blue movies, Sid,’ Jim went on. ‘Blue movies, old boy. Tell Sid the films you’ve played the lead in, kid. Go on, tell ‘im,’ he ordered. ‘She makes more money in three months than I make in a year, just for flashing it, Sid.’ He gulped the whiskey. ‘A film about every four weeks. That’s right, isn’t it, kid?’ One or two people were beginning to listen as Sid tried to move them away from the bar. As Sid stepped back, Jim came towards him, still talking: ‘Private parties a hundred quid a night. Exhibitions, one twenty-five a night, Sid, and most of it in cash. You know, old man—loose, the readies, the Nelson Eddies … Buy me a drink,’ he hissed at her.
‘It’s free tonight, Jim. Well, at least, till midnight. Then you buy your own.’ Sid was trying to sound happy.
‘Make her pay for it like she makes other people pay for it. Give the money to the barman.’ Jim thrust a fiver into the top of Estelle’s small handbag. She never looked at him once; her eyes were cool, still looking at Sid, as if to challenge him to believe what he’d heard. Jim took the small handbag from her, took his fiver back and put it in his pocket. Then he opened her bag and started to rummage in it. Sid went forward to stop him, but felt her hand holding his arm. Jim took out a tenner and went back towards the bar, forcing his way through. ‘Hey,’ he shouted to a barman. ‘Hey, you, spotty. Two large whiskies and a Babycham and keep the change.’ The drinks were in his hand before you could say, ‘And still going strong,’ and the tenner had disappeared before the Queen could blink at the light.
Jim turned back to Sid and Estelle with a triumphant grin on his face. He gave Estelle her bag back and handed Sid his Scotch, then started to drink his own as Sid went back to the bar and picked up Estelle’s Babycham. When Sid rejoined them, Jim began talking loudly again. Sid took Estelle’s arm and guided her to a less crowded place away from the bar, followed by Jim.
‘She’s done some great films. Estelle in a Harem – great, that one. Estelle Takes a Donkey Ride – oh, a classic that one, a knock-out that one.’
‘I don’t think I’m bothered, Jim,’ Sid said slowly.
‘They’re great, Sid. Run about thirty minutes. Sixteen mil sound and colour. She’s a star in the Middle East. Two hundred and fifty quid each to buy. Didn’t you see her in Black is Big and Beautiful? She makes Linda Lovelace look like Mary Whitehouse.’
Sid took his eyes away from Estelle’s. ‘So I was right,’ he said. ‘She is in show business.’ A slight nod of her head thanked him.
Jim finished his drink and was now trying to get the barman’s attention again.
‘I’ve got a bottle in my room,’ Sid said, thinking Jim was going to get another tenner out of Estelle’s bag.
‘A full one?’
‘Full enough.’
‘Okay. Let’s go to your room,’ he urged.
‘I’m sorry, there’s no Babycham.’
‘Don’t worry, I hardly drink anyway,’ Estelle said.
Sid led the way up the steps on to the stage to get backstage to his room, followed by Estelle and Jim Parker. Jim walked over to the mike and said in a low, drunken voice, over the music, ‘Don’t forget to see Miss Estelle Fuller in her latest film, The Hand-Embroidered Fockstrap. Ha, ha, ha. I’m the support.’ No one heard him as he had, in his drunken state, switched the mike off.
Sid quickly walked over to Jim and whispered in his ear, ‘The whiskey’s poured and waiting.’
Jim allowed himself to be led away to the dressing-room. As the three walked single-file down the corridor to Sid’s room, Serina’s door opened and out came Al. As soon as Al saw Sid he quickly turned and went back into Serina’s room and closed the door. Sid laughed, saying to himself, I did frighten the Eartha Kitt out of him.
Jim was following Estelle and Sid, bringing up the rear. He was knocking on all the doors and trying to open them. He arrived at Serina’s door, knocked and opened it. Inside, Serina stood in front of her mirror. Al was in the corner with his face to the wall. Serina was putting her bra on.
‘Don’t cover them up, darling,’ Jim said. ‘Let me do it for you.’ He tried to get into the tiny room but Serina was having none of that. She picked up a box of white powder and hurled it at Jim. The blow hit him on the head and all the powder settled over his hair and face. Serina pushed him out of her room and locked the door. Through the locked door she shouted all the names she could lay her tongue to, while Al tried to claw his way out of the room with his bare hands.
Sid was almost at the door at his own room. He looked back at all the noise and saw Jim covered in white powder, in his eyes, up his nose and in his mouth. He was now coughing as if he had just lit his first cigarette of the morning. Sid walked back to try and get Jim to his room. Estelle looked at Jim and laughed out loud for the first time that evening. If Jim could have seen her, he would have hit her. As it was he lashed out with his right arm, but Sid caught it in mid-air and dragged Jim to his room, followed by a laughing Estelle, while Serina was shouting her lungs out and telling Al not to worry, nobody had seen him.
Sid explained to Estelle where the drink was and, while Sid was pouring hot water into the sink, Estelle was pouring cold Scotch into a glass. She looked at Sid as if to say, ‘Say when.’ Sid told her with a glance to give Jim a lot. Jim was cursing and swearing that he was going to kill people. His clothes were now covered in powder. He cupped his hand in the water and drank and gargled and then spat it out. It cleared his throat and his mouth. Estelle handed him a very large Scotch. She poured Sid a small one and gave it to him.
