Mr Starlight

by Laurie Graham

  Sel said, ‘I’ve always believed in self-help. I’ve always agreed with the old saying, every cripple finds his own way of walking.’

  Vertue said, ‘Are you calling gays cripples?

  Sel said, ‘You know damn well that’s not what I said. But Craig, this is so boring. Why don’t I tell you all about a plan I have to auction some of my spectacular costumes, to raise money for backward children.’

  Vertue was wriggling around in his seat. ‘Cripples! Backward children!’ he said. ‘What kind of language is that?’

  Kooky said, ‘How about you, Chrissie? Would you be glad to be gay?’

  Chrissie France just sat there giggling.

  Sel said, ‘It’s OK, Chrissie. Nobody’s saying you have to be. Not yet, anyhow.’

  Kooky said, ‘Craig, our audience is maybe wondering, you’re glad to be what you are and yet you’re discriminated against? Is that right? Are you still a victim of discrimination?’

  ‘Sure I am,’ he said. ‘My partner dies, do I have any rights concerning his cremation? No. His folks could spirit him away to Montana. Can we adopt? No. Can we take out a family subscription to the opera? No. But I’ll tell you why I’m glad nonetheless. This is a battle to the death of the old order. Since Stonewall we’ve been throwing off our chains. Storming the citadels of repression and hypocrisy and I feel so proud to be a part of the struggle.’

  He got a ripple of applause. He wiped a tear from his eye. ‘In years to come’, he said, ‘there are going to be more than a few old closet queens who’ll wish they’d been there too.’

  Sel said, ‘You make it sound like ruddy Agincourt.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ Vertue said, ‘I guess this is something you can’t comprehend, Sel, being such a down-the-line hundred-per-cent straight.’

  He got a big laugh.

  Hazel said, ‘Turn it off, Cled. I don’t want to watch any more.’

  You could see the sweat breaking through on Sel’s top lip. His shirt was straining at the buttons too.

  Kooky said, ‘Sel? A final word?’

  Sel said, ‘Yes. I’d just like to say to all those nice folk out there, don’t lose sleep over this. Rise early, work hard, honour your father and mother. Keep your bedroom door closed.’

  ‘OK,’ Kooky said. ‘We’ll be back after the break with a song from Chrissie France.’

  Hazel said, ‘Whoever talked him into doing that show should be shot.’

  I said, ‘Nobody had to talk him into it.’

  But he had looked terrible sitting on that couch. ‘Like an overweight old has-been,’ Hazel said.

  I said, ‘But why did Liquorish get him to do it?’

  ‘Because everybody’ll be talking about it tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Because it made Sel look ridiculous and people love that. They’ll show it over and over. You’ll see.’

  We didn’t see Mam till the following morning.

  I said, ‘Did you watch it? What did you think?’

  ‘I didn’t need to watch it,’ she said. ‘Sel always looks lovely, whatever he does. It was on far too late for me.’

  Sel said he hadn’t bothered to watch either, but he’d been down in Brett’s bungalow watching something. I’d seen him walking back to the house when I got up to pee.

  ‘Vertue’s a loser,’ he said. ‘I reckon I’m the most interesting thing that ever happened to him. Nobody would ever have heard of him if he hadn’t picked on me. He should pay me a commission. Anyway, didn’t I give him a trouncing?’

  It was written up in all the papers. ‘The old guard fighting off the new,’ one of them said. ‘Mr Starlight is Yesterday’s Man.’

  He said, ‘Hallerton’s been fielding calls all week. There’s not going to be a studio couch in the country that doesn’t have the impression of my backside on it.’

  Hazel said, ‘Be careful, Sel. Think of your fans. Think of how things look.’

  ‘I am doing,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m going to Caliente Springs. Mudbaths. Gourmet salads. By the time I’m on Johnny Carson I’m going to look like a million dollars.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jennifer Jane didn’t emigrate to Australia. She went to New Zealand to specialise in diseases of the heart.

  Hazel: ‘Well, that’s that, then. I think it’s time to get rid of Hazelwyn. What do you think?’

  I said, ‘You don’t want to go back?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ she said. ‘Why? Don’t you want me here?’

  It wasn’t that. It was just taking some getting used to, after being a single man for a number of years. It wasn’t only Lupe who had had her hopes raised. But I didn’t have the heart to send Hazel away. She was so happy, puttering around with Sel’s costumes, doing little repairs on them, chattering to Pearl in the kitchen.

  I said, ‘Yes. I’d like you to stay.’

  Sel was very happy about it. ‘Come to your senses at last,’ he said. ‘Hazel’s a gem. Now we’ve got to work on Dilys. I’d love to get her out here.’

  Hazel said, ‘Leave Dilys to me. She’ll come for your mam’s ninetieth and she’ll enjoy herself so much she won’t want to leave.’

  We were planning quite a gathering of the clan. Gaynor was going to come, first time she’d ever been abroad, although sadly Clifford didn’t feel he could leave his shop. Betsan and Larry. Ricky and Kim. Even Jennifer Jane was trying to wangle some time off.

  Sel was having Mam’s portrait painted, top secret. There was a lady in Vegas who did it from a photograph and it was going to be unveiled the day of her birthday, when we were all assembled. He said, ‘I’ve had a preview. It’s beautiful. I think I’ll get her to do me next, now I’m looking so rejuvenated.’

  Sel had become a regular at the Caliente Springs health resort. He paid them good money and they fed him on celery juice. Pearl wanted to send Brett with a thermos of ice cream but Brett said it was more than his life was worth.

  ‘Ten pounds,’ Sel said. ‘That’s what the camera adds to you. So I’ve decided to lose twenty.’

  I said, ‘And how come your face is so shiny?’

  He said, ‘I think you mean dew-fresh. I’ve had a skin peel. You should get one.’

  So the new slimline Mr Starlight kept popping up on chat shows, chatting with stars like Debbie Reynolds or Shelley Winters. Sometimes he’d take one of his little pooches along with him, as a conversational point. Sometimes he’d wear one of his beaded shirts and talk about the lack of glamour in the modern world.

  I said, ‘When’s your next bout with Mr Vertue?’

  ‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘It’s some other poor bastard’s turn.’

  Craig Vertue was putting the arm on Rock Hudson.

  ‘Buzzing round him like a blowfly,’ Sel called it.

  I said to Hazel, ‘How can that be? Rock Hudson can’t be a homosexual. He was married to a girl called Phyllis.’

  ‘Who cares?’ she said. ‘All those beautiful films he made. And what’s this Vertue person ever done? What pleasure has he ever brought to people?’

  They finally met again on the Merv Griffin Show. Vertue, the same as always, blue jeans, thin as a garden cane, and Sel in embroidered trousers and a spotted shirt with big frilly sleeves.

  Hazel said, ‘He’s turning himself into a fairground attraction.’

  Sel was first on, talking about his early days. ‘We had nothing, Merv,’ he said. ‘No toys. Hand-me-down clothes. I had to make my first costume out of one of my dear mother’s tablecloths.’ Ruddy whoppers, the lot of it. He had a farmyard and a bus conductor’s outfit and roller skates.

  Vertue was on after the commercial break. Sel always got to his feet when a new guest came on, even if it was a gent. But this time he didn’t just stand there. He strode across to Vertue.

  Hazel said, ‘He’s going to hit him!’

  And that was what the audience seemed to think. Instead of applauding Vertue, it had gone quiet.

  Sel towered over him. ‘Craig,’ he said, ‘before you start, there’s so
mething I want to say. I know you’d like to make my life a misery, but it’s not going to happen. You’re just a humourless little creep, so I’ve decided to forgive you.’ And he got him in a clinch and bent him over backwards and kissed him, a great big smacker, right on the mouth.

  I said, ‘Now that’s something they’ll show over and over.’

  And they did. It became a very famous photograph.

  Vertue just shook his head. And although he kept needling Sel as per, Sel was enjoying himself, winking at the camera, pretending to nod off when Vertue started his usual sob story.

  Then he challenged him to an arm wrestle. ‘Merv,’ he said, ‘I think you need more action on the show. So me and young Craig are going to provide it. We’re going to settle our differences. Best of three.’

  Sel won, of course. He always was strong, considering.

  I said, ‘You know something that mystifies me? His hair. It never changes.’

  Hazel looked at me.

  I said, ‘Don’t you think it’s funny? His face gets older but his hair never looks any different.’

  ‘It’s a wig, Cled,’ she said. ‘Obviously.’

  I said, ‘Do you know that for a fact?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  I said, ‘Did he tell you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But he didn’t need to. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.’

  I said, ‘You’ve made my day. All those times he nagged me. All that grief he gave me.’

  She said, ‘You’re not to bring it up. You’re not to tell him I told you.’

  I said, ‘What does it matter, if you reckon it’s so obvious?’

  ‘His feelings matter,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t like people knowing things about him.’

  I said, ‘I’m not people. What’s he like underneath it? Is he as bald as me?’

  ‘I don’t know, Cled,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen him. And if you say anything to him, I’ll never forgive you.’

  I didn’t say anything to him. But the next time he was sitting cogitating on the edge of the pool I gave his hair a friendly tug and his hand flew up to save it. I jumped in, swam around for five minutes, then I hauled myself out and sat alongside him. I said, ‘One thing about not having any hair. According to Lupe, you move through the water faster.’

  He just sat there, dabbling his toes.

  ‘All right,’ he said eventually. ‘So you’ve twigged. But you’d better keep your mouth shut. My fans love me the way I am and they don’t want to hear any different.’

  I said, ‘I’m not going to tell. How come you’ve got that touch of silver on the temples?’

  ‘Realism,’ he said. ‘Top of the range realism. Want to see?’

  He had a Sheik of Araby theme for his bedroom at Desert Star. Orange silk swagged down from the ceiling and tacked to the walls, like a tent, and a black carved bedhead. Candle lanterns and cushions everywhere like an advert for Turkish delight. He’d had a pair of camel skin drums for bedside tables until they’d started to smell.

  He took me into his dressing room, first time I’d ever set foot in there. There were dozens of suits and shirts lined up on rails, one for formal wear, one for casual, with a docket on each coat-hanger saying where he’d worn it and when. All his shoes were kept on trees. All his jumpers were folded on shelves, as if they’d never been worn.

  He slid a mirror to one side and there was a cupboard behind it. Five plastic ladies’ heads on a shelf, one bald, and the others wearing wigs. They all looked identical to me.

  ‘No, they’re not,’ he said. ‘That one’s my newly trimmed look. That one’s my “due for a trim” look. This one’s my “lightly bleached from the sun” look.’

  I said, ‘So what’s that one?’

  ‘Nightwear,’ he said. ‘It breathes better than the others.’

  I said, ‘And underneath, I suppose you’re about the same as me?’

  He said, ‘We should start making a list for Mam’s party. Get the invitations printed.’

  I said, ‘It’s funny. I can’t remember what it feels like to have hair. Why do you wear it in bed?’

  ‘Because you never know your luck, our kid,’ he said. ‘You never know. I think we should have a dinner on the day of her birthday, just family. And then a bigger affair round the pool, for friends and neighbours.’

  He’d sat down in front of the mirror. ‘I thought we’d put on a little show for her,’ he said. ‘All her favourite songs?’ He pushed his thumbs up under his hairline and worked them around as far as his ears, easing the wig away from his skin and, when he lifted it off, all he had under there were a few little whispy bits just above his neck. He said, ‘Candy looks after them for me.’ Candy was the girl who came once a week to do his nails. ‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘this wouldn’t be the right image for Mr Starlight. My fans have given me so much, Cled, so I make it a rule to keep on giving them what they expect: glamour, perfection. Understand? And that’s why, if you ever breathe a word to anybody, I’ll have Brett break your legs.’

  I looked at him in the mirror. He winked at me. I was looking at an old man.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Dilys and Gaynor flew to Los Angeles to have a couple of days with Betsan before Mam’s party. Betsan and Larry had a luxury home in Palm Desert. Larry’s spa-gym leisure centres were doing very well. Then they all flew to Vegas. Sel had a costume fitting, getting ready for a new show at the Flamingo, so me and Hazel went with Brett to the airport. He was wearing a new livery Sel had designed for him, epaulettes and a peaked cap, but he didn’t look very happy in it.

  I said, ‘What’s up? Don’t you like the colour?’

  ‘Makes me look like hired help,’ he said.

  It was funny to see Betsan and Gaynor side by side after so long. You could argue Betsan had had a harder life, with Terry Eyles running off and leaving her with a bab to raise, but she looked ten years younger than Gaynor. That’s a suntan for you. And having your own in-house fitness equipment.

  Dilys said, ‘I can’t wait to see Sel. I hear he’s been dieting.’

  Hazel said, ‘He goes to Caliente Springs and eats nothing but grapes.’

  ‘Pineapple,’ Brett said. ‘He’s on the pineapple diet. You can eat as much pineapple as you want.’

  Pearl was out front in a clean apron and Mam came to the door when she heard the car. She was having one of her days of walking with a stick. ‘I wouldn’t need it,’ she said, ‘if there weren’t dogs waiting to trip you up everywhere you turn in this house. You look washed out, Gaynor. You should take iron.’

  Dilys said, ‘Hello, Mam. You’re looking spry.’

  Mam said, ‘I am spry. Roberts women don’t deteriorate.’

  Which wasn’t true because Aunty Gwenny had to have water tablets and elastic stockings by the time she was sixty.

  She said, ‘You should get some weight off, Dilys. You’ll never get to be my age, carrying all that weight. Selwyn’s on the banana diet and he looks a picture. Bananas and ginseng.’

  ‘And ice cream,’ Pearl said. ‘He still loves his Rocky Road.’

  I wanted to take Dilys and Gaynor to the Old Bull and Bush, show them round my little empire, but Dilys wouldn’t move till she’d seen Sel. She unpacked a photo album she’d put together. ‘Here you are, Mam,’ she said. ‘The story of your life in pictures.’

  Mam said, ‘I don’t need old photos. I’m on the television. Ninety years old and still working.’ She’d just made a new advertisement for a safety buzzer that hung round your neck. It was for the elderly, in case they fell and need to buzz for someone to come and help them up.

  Hazel started looking through the album. ‘Who’s this young soldier, Dilly?’ she said. ‘Is it your dad?’

  Dilys said, ‘No. I’m not sure who it is.’

  Hazel said, ‘What a shame. I suppose your mam’s the only one who’d be able to tell us and she’s not interested in looking.’

  Dilys had even gone back to Ninevah Street and take
n pictures, so Mam could see what had become of the old neighbourhood.

  Mam said, ‘I don’t care about Ninevah Street. You have to look ahead, not back.’

  But curiosity got the better of her. Hazel put the album down where she could reach it and she did pick it up. ‘1913,’ she said. ‘Priory Road. I was governess to three children, Gaynor, and I was only sixteen. See me? I wore my hair pinned up in those days. I always had pretty hair. It was a doctor’s family. Three boys. I’ll think of their names in a minute. And that’s my brother Amos. Before he went to Flanders.’

  There were pictures of all of us as kiddies and the outside of number 17, as it looked now, with double-glazed window frames and ruched blinds, and a sign that said ‘Tara’.

  I said, ‘I thought they’d have knocked that down by know. Flattened the whole street.’

  Dilys said, ‘Oh, no. They call them starter homes now.’

  Gaynor said, ‘You haven’t got a picture of Grandad.’

  Dilys said she hadn’t been able to find one.

  Gaynor said, ‘What happened to Grandad? I don’t remember going to his funeral.’

  Mam said, ‘We lost touch. He always had to travel, to find work. We had the Depression and then the war. He was never the same, after the war.’

  ‘Yes he was,’ Dilys whispered to me. ‘He was exactly the same.’

  I couldn’t help smiling.

  Mam said, ‘It was no laughing matter, Cledwyn. Those were hard times. Your grandad was a very gifted man, Gaynor. He had to travel to find the appreciation he was due. Same as Selwyn had to.’

  Hazel said, ‘What kind of business was your dad in, Cled? I don’t remember.’

  ‘Various,’ Mam said.

  Then Sel arrived and saved her from having to go into any details. We had an afternoon of jollification around the pool. Betsan painted Mam’s nails. Hazel took Gaynor out to buy a swimsuit. Brett and Sel and Larry messed around with a giant water pistol. And Dilys lay alongside me on a lounger and roasted. ‘I could get used to this,’ she said. ‘Sel looks terrible, Cled. Why didn’t you warn me?’