Devil in Disguise

by Julian Clary

  ‘You came,’ he said quietly. ‘Thank you.’

  Molly was filled with pity for her old friend. He was just a frail, sick shell of his former self. ‘I almost didn’t but once Roger explained how serious things are and how much you wanted to see me, well… I had to come. I’m so sorry you’re ill. How are you feeling?’

  He lifted up his arm and turned his head so she could see the various tubes and drips that entered his body via wrist and neck. ‘There’s another tube under the covers that is draining what they call my morbid retention of fluid. And yet another darling little tube up my tired old penis to save me the bother of going to the lay. I don’t need to miss a moment of The Paul O’Grady Show. It’s bliss.’

  The very mention of his sexual organ embarrassed them both. The unspoken subject of Daniel and the rift between them loomed large in their minds.

  Molly sat down on the chair next to Simon’s bed. ‘Is it God’s way of telling you to stop the drink? I always told you to cut down.’

  ‘Unfortunately I didn’t listen. My liver’s had some sort of hissy fit, it seems. Refusing to play ball. The good news is they’ve given me Librium to stave off the withdrawal symptoms.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Molly, remembering her own fondness for the Valium with which Lilia had once supplied her. ‘It’s been eight years,’ she observed.

  There was a silence between them and Simon’s eyes turned serious. ‘I’m sorry, Molls.’

  ‘What for?’ she asked, needing him to say the words.

  ‘You know what for. Daniel, that’s what. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.’

  ‘It was pretty unforgivable,’ she said. ‘Kind of final, don’t you think, as far as friendship goes?’

  ‘There was a woman on The Jeremy Kyle Show who ran off with her sister’s husband. She said they couldn’t help themselves, that it was animal lust. And when the husband came on, I quite understood.’

  ‘No regrets, then?’ said Molly, briskly.

  Simon fixed her with sad eyes. ‘Of course I regret it. I lost you, didn’t I? The most important person in my life. You were the one person in the world I knew inside out. When you wrecked the flat and threw us out, I knew I’d done something unspeakable and I’ve been consumed with self-hatred ever since. I thought I would never, ever see you again.’

  ‘Well, I’m here now. I’ve missed you too,’ she said, softening. She had never seen Simon so sincere and his vulnerability touched her.

  ‘You’re a star now. Living in another universe. And you got the handsome husband, the two adorable children, the house in the country … The magazines think you have a perfect life.’

  ‘I’m very lucky. Look.’ She pulled a photograph out of her handbag and showed it to Simon. ‘Leo and Bertie.’

  He looked at it, a half-smile on his lips. ‘Gorgeous. Well done, Molls. I’m glad you got your dream. You deserved it.’ Then he said softly, ‘At the end of the TV show that woman went off arm in arm with her sister.’

  Molly reached out and squeezed Simon’s shoulder affectionately. ‘A happy ending, then.’

  ‘She forgave her. Say you forgive me?’

  Molly blinked back some tears. ‘I wonder if I have it in me. I can’t say it if I don’t mean it.

  ‘You can, as far as I’m concerned.’

  Molly half laughed. She could see how very ill her old friend was. Death hovered about him like a cloud of midges. Of course she forgave him. In fact, would she have the life she had now if it weren’t for him? Perhaps, paradoxically, she was in his debt. She said quietly, ‘I forgive you, Simon. I accept your apologies. You did a terrible thing but you’ve punished yourself enough. Look at you. What have you done to yourself?’

  ‘Seeing you and hearing those words is like the sea rushing over the sand and smoothing away all the bumps and footprints. Thank you.’ Simon closed his eyes and exhaled contentedly. ‘The guilt is dissolving and draining away, just like the bile from my gut.’

  ‘We need to get you better, Simon.’

  ‘The professor told me if I ever drink again my liver will pack up altogether. There’s just a sliver still working. What they call a window of opportunity.’

  ‘And do you understand that it’s serious?’

  ‘I know I must stop the drink and start looking after myself. Those are my orders.’

  ‘And do you intend to obey them?’

  ‘I shall now. You’ve given me the will to live.’

  They smiled at each other. Then Simon fell back on his pillows, sighing.

  ‘You’re tired. I’ll go now.’ Molly stood up.

  ‘Come back soon, won’t you?’ Simon said, through half-closed lips.

  ‘Of course. I promise.’ She left quietly and Simon was already sleeping as she slipped through the curtain.

  Simon soon became accustomed to the hospital with its rhythms of doctors’ rounds, meal trolleys, medication times and visiting hours. It was soothing in a way. In fact, he hadn’t had such a bustling social life for years. At every hour of every day nurses and medics came to check on him and administer various drugs. He learnt their names and flirted with them, making them laugh and charming them.

  He began to feel something he hadn’t experienced for a very long time: hope.

  Typical! he thought. Just before I bow out for the final time, I start enjoying life!

  After ten days and more tests, including a very unpleasant examination of his gullet and stomach with an endoscope, Simon began to turn a corner. He was still very tired but the jaundice was retreating, his skin a little pinker and less yellow. One day he even got out of bed and wandered down to the hospital shop to buy the Guardian. His catheter had been removed and he was gradually weaned off the Librium. He was given a selection of new medication to take throughout the day.

  Molly visited him almost every afternoon, bringing him fruit, yoghurt, books, papers and magazines to occupy his empty hours. His favourite was the volume of selected poetry. ‘Tennyson and Librium go fabulously together,’ he announced.

  It was amazing how quickly they resumed their former friendship. They chatted away as they had in the old days, catching up on everything that had happened in the intervening years. If she couldn’t visit, she telephoned. Very often they would laugh and howl together, but Simon had his serious moments too. He wanted to be totally honest and up front with Molly about everything. He didn’t want to shy away from painful memories. Soon he found himself talking about his life in a way that he had never done before. Molly sat and listened quietly, as though she knew that Simon was talking to himself as well as to her.

  ‘You know, Molly, I’m far from sure about the wisdom of my life’s course. My particular niche on the sexuality gamut, for the illicit pleasure it has brought me, seems now to have left me high and dry. The outcome I find most irksome is my solitude. My relationships, such as they were, never developed because commitment was anathema to me. The very mention of it would curdle my blood, I swear. I would lie awake at night, eyes aflame with dastardly plans to snare my next victim. Quick, dirty, dangerous sex was my only motivation in life. Back then, a conveyor-belt of deliciously unattainable men was forever running through my mind. My laughable career was an exciting diversion, I admit. While I was hot, and the flavour of the season, I felt as if everything I touched would turn to gold. But after you left Genita left too. It was back to sex and drink to fill the hours.

  ‘And when you lose the imperative urge to go looking for the next notch on the bedpost, you’re fucked in the other sense — left in some sort of vacuum. Poverty, in all its forms — financial, creative and emotional — is suddenly to be heard scratching at the door. One day it sounds like a gerbil, but within a week there’s a wild boar out there and the timber’s splintering. After a while there’s nothing to do but stare at the walls and listen to your inner dialogue — never an enticing prospect in my case. A dark and dirty tale. With only drink as a friend, you become socially inept. The thought of conversing, having eye contac
t and “enjoying” company of any sort withers. The part of the brain that deals with interaction and intimacy on every level dies from lack of use, and desire is replaced with fear. So it’s goodnight, Vienna.’ He came to the end of his speech and smiled wanly.

  Molly took his hand and squeezed it. ‘That’s why you must get better,’ she said. ‘To make up for the lost years.’

  Three weeks after he had been admitted to UCH, Simon was told he would soon be able to go home. The idea of returning to his flat filled him with dread, and he was considering Roger’s offer of the sofa-bed in his small apartment when Molly came up with her own suggestion. ‘I want you to come and stay in Kent. It’s beautiful — fresh country air, new-laid eggs and me to look after you.’

  ‘Really? Could you stand me?’

  ‘Of course I could. I want you to meet my boys. I’ve told Rupert all about you and he insists you come.’

  ‘And will I get to meet the famous Lilia?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Molly frowned. ‘Lilia, too, of course.’

  ‘If the magazines are to be believed, you don’t cross the road unless she tells you to.’

  Molly laughed a little uncomfortably. ‘It’s not quite as bad as that, even if Lilia would like it to be.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Simon asked, quick to pick up on Molly’s emotions even now. ‘You seem a bit troubled.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Molly said, but she couldn’t quite meet his eye. ‘You’ve got enough to worry about without my woes adding to it. Things are not quite as easy as they might be. Lilia and Rupert have taken it upon themselves to sack the nanny, and Lilia’s looking after the children.’

  ‘Really? Isn’t she about a hundred?’

  ‘Not in the first flush, despite all the help money can buy. She’s been wonderful to me over the years, an absolute rock. She guided me to where I am today … but she’s being a bit odd at the moment. She won’t hear of a new nanny, and every time I get a CV from the agency, she finds a reason why this one’s no good. She’s taken to whispering to Rupert constantly about goodness knows what, and spending all her time with the children. I’m being selfish, probably. I’m used to having her attention focused on me.’

  ‘Mmm. Well, I can’t wait to meet her,’ said Simon.

  ‘You’ll probably love her. She’s a scream, even if she’s a bit strange sometimes.’ Molly smiled. ‘Good! It’s settled. You’re coming to Kent to rest and get healthy. Let’s tell Roger the good news.’

  A few days later Molly’s driver arrived at the hospital and Simon was transported, with his goody bag of pills, to the secluded peace of Molly and Rupert’s country home. It was a blustery autumn afternoon, and as the car made its stately way up the gravel drive towards the house a cloud of crisp burnt-orange and red leaves flew up and over them like confetti.

  Simon was impressed by the beauty of the rambling red-brick Elizabethan house. As the car drew to a halt on the driveway, Molly appeared at the door, jumping up and down with excitement, dressed in jeans and a stripy cardigan.

  She welcomed him with an affectionate kiss. ‘You’re here! Let me take your bag. I’ll show you upstairs.’

  He followed her up the staircase to a large, light bedroom on the first floor. ‘This is gorgeous,’ he said, looking at the mahogany bed, then up at the beamed ceiling and out through the latticed window to the vegetable garden below. ‘What a wonderful house.’

  ‘I love this room,’ said Molly. ‘In fact, I gave birth on that bed. Twice.’

  ‘Darling, I’m recovering from a near-death experience. I don’t want that vision in my head.’

  ‘Too late,’ laughed Molly. ‘Have a rest, and when you’re ready we’ll have tea in the drawing room. That’s down the stairs and follow the sound of children. They’re dying to meet you, and Leo is wearing his Spider-Man costume in your honour.’

  ‘How touching.’

  ‘Lilia is here and Rupert will be back soon. He’s been having lunch with Craig Revel-Horwood so he’ll probably be wrecked.’

  ‘What’s he seeing her for?’

  ‘He’s trying to persuade Craig to take on the role of Ariel in a stadium tour of The Tempest. They’ve already cast Bruno Tomoli as Caliban, Len Goodman as Prospero and Arlene Phillips as Miranda. He’s the last piece of the jigsaw, really.’

  ‘It’ll be a sell-out. See you downstairs when you’re ready.’

  Simon did his meagre unpacking and arranged his pills by his bedside. He already felt the calm and warmth of the house entering him and comforting him. He didn’t stay for a rest but went downstairs quickly, eager to meet Molly’s children. In the drawing room, two blond boys were playing, one in a miniature red Spider-Man suit and the other, who was smaller, in overalls caked with Play-Doh.

  ‘Here’s Simon!’ announced Molly. ‘He’s come to stay with us. Say hello!’

  The boys approached him, a little shy.

  ‘Why doesn’t he have any hair?’ asked Leo, taking off his Spider-Man mask.

  ‘Leo!’ exclaimed Molly. ‘You mustn’t be rude like that.’

  ‘It’s all right, Molls.’ Simon gazed down at the wide blue eyes looking up at him. He sat down on the sofa. ‘If you really want to know the truth, I donated my hair to a very good friend, Arthur the Spider. You see, Arthur needed to spin an extra large web one day and…’ The next minute he was lost in the tale he was making up, and both of the children were leaning on his knees, listening intently. Once the story was over, the boys shrieked with excitement and climbed all over Simon until Molly had to tell them off.

  ‘Careful, boys! Simon hasn’t been very well.’

  ‘It’s all right, Molly, I don’t mind,’ he said, wincing a little as Bertie’s foot landed on his skinny thigh. Then he noticed a small, stiff, red-haired old woman standing in the doorway, wearing a blue apron over a silk tea-dress and recognised her: she’d been in the royal box at the Palladium that night. The famous Lilia. Molly saw where he was looking. ‘Lilia, please come and meet Simon.’

  ‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ he said, giving her his most charming smile and standing up.

  Lilia approached slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said, shaking his hand weakly. ‘Pleased to meet you. If I’d known you were coming I’d have baked a cake.’

  The words were uttered with such casual sincerity it took him a moment to realise how withering they were really intended to be. He watched her as she clucked round the children, gathering them up to go through to the kitchen for tea. What struck Simon most was the similarity between Molly and Lilia. Their hair was exactly the same shade of coppery, vibrant red. Lilia even seemed to have adopted some of Molly’s mannerisms, tossing her head backwards when she laughed, if a little more stiffly than Molly did. Before she left the room with Leo and Bertie, she turned back to Simon and said, ‘I’m preparing dinner tonight. Are there any allergies or restrictions I should know about? I take it I should leave the sherry out of the trifle.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Simon said politely. ‘I’m an alcohol-free zone, I’m afraid. Apart from that, I’ll be delighted with anything.’

  He turned to Molly when Lilia had left the room. ‘Blimey. She’s a game old bird, that one.’

  ‘I owe her everything,’ said Molly.

  ‘She’s had a bit of work done, hasn’t she?’

  ‘A bit! She’s had her eyelids done, her forehead, chin, neck and boobs, then liposuction, and more Botox than an entire front row at London Fashion Week. It’s all tax deductible, she keeps telling me.’

  ‘Is she trying to be you or are you trying to be her? I can’t work it out.’

  ‘Well, it used to be me being styled by her in her own image. But lately I seem to be leading the way. She copies me.’

  ‘I can see that. But she’s not quite pulling it off. Camp, though, I’ll give her that.’

  ‘Oh, Simon,’ said Molly, smiling, ‘it’s so good to have you around again. You’ve always had a way of looking at the world that makes everything seem okay.’
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br />   Simon was too tired to take much notice of what was going on around him that evening. Rupert came home and was welcoming and friendly, and Simon thought he seemed lovely, but he really only wanted to get to bed.

  Over the next few days, though, he began to feel better. He had nothing to do but sleep, eat and rest, while Molly made sure he had everything he needed. The children already adored him and were keen to play and have more stories, but Molly had to shoo them away when Uncle Simon was too tired to be boisterous, which was quite often.

  He watched with interest as the family dynamics swirled around him. Rupert was gone early in the mornings and returned just in time to read his boys a bedtime story. He seemed very affectionate to Molly, always gathering her up in a hug or giving her a tender kiss. Molly was an adoring if somewhat chaotic mother, making as much mess when she was trying to clear up as there had been to start with, and the boys were happy, healthy and energetic.

  But the person who interested him most was Lilia, the old lady who had changed Molly’s life so profoundly. She was constantly in the background, watching and observing, making herself indispensable. She did most of the cooking and looked after the practicalities of the children. A cleaner-cum-housekeeper came in for three hours a day, and Lilia was decidedly brisk with her, making sure that standards were maintained, the laundry and ironing properly organised, the cupboards stocked and meals planned.

  She spent the day in a pinny, but when Rupert came home, she changed into a smart dress, makeup and jewellery and became a charming woman, eager to make sure that Rupert had everything he wanted and playing the flirtatious, pampering housewife to the master of the house. She’s the hub of this household, thought Simon. She’s made herself the heart of the place.