by Julian Clary
All the time, he noticed that Lilia was watching him. Her green eyes were always fixed on him but she was never smiling. She rarely spoke to him, except on the memorable occasion when she stopped as they passed in the corridor and glared at him.
‘I must ask you to stay away from the children,’ she said, with the tone and authority of an experienced police officer.
‘Excuse me?’ said Simon.
‘Whatever you have, it may be catching,’ she said matter-of-factly. She turned and carried on down the passage, leaving Simon speechless.
‘Ignore her,’ Molly said, when he told her.
‘I don’t think she likes me.’
‘You’re not alone. It’s only me she likes.’
‘And Rupert,’ Simon said, looking at Molly carefully.
‘Oh, yes, she loves Rupert.’
‘She certainly does. To distraction,’ muttered Simon, but Molly didn’t seem to notice the implication behind his words.
One day, a week after he had arrived, Simon was enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sunshine as he reclined on one of the patio sun-loungers. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat fill his bones.
‘Excuse me,’ said a low voice.
He opened his eyes to see Lilia standing next to his chair. She was staring at him with flinty green eyes. ‘Yes. I want to speak to you.’
‘I’m all ears.’ Simon gave her a small, tight smile. He’d been expecting something like this.
The old woman sat down in the chair next to his and folded her hands together. ‘Why Molly has allowed you back into her life I cannot imagine. I guess you played your trump card. Made her think you were at death’s door. Well, you don’t fool me. I put the poor, shattered Molly back together after your sordid, selfish affair with Daniel. She may forgive you but I do not.’
‘I’m here because Molly invited me. We’ve put the past behind us.’
‘Have we?’ she said threateningly. ‘How convenient for you. ‘She gave a sinister little laugh. ‘I, on the other hand, know all about your past. And I have no intention of forgetting a single thing. What goes around comes around.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you hang around here longer than is good for you, you’ll find out. And don’t go blurting silly tales to Molly — you’ll only frighten her and, besides, she’d never believe you.’
‘I have no intention of upsetting Molly,’ Simon said. ‘She thinks you’re just a sweet old lady. You and I both know there’s more to it than that. As long as you have her best interests at heart, we have nothing to argue about.’ He pulled on a pair of dark glasses and lay back on the sun-lounger. ‘I’ll be heading off in due course, don’t you worry about that. I have outpatient appointments to keep. But I’d just like to add that if you hurt Molly, you’ll have me to answer to.’
‘I am shaking in my boots,’ snorted Lilia. ‘What will you do? Strike me with your Lucozade bottle?’ She got up and he heard her chortling gently to herself as her heels tripped across the stone patio.
Molly loved being at home and looking after the children. It was true that life was not as easy as it had been with Michelle but, after all, she had wanted more time with Leo and Bertie and, anyway, Lilia wouldn’t hear of another nanny. She was surprised that Lilia was proving so useful around the house: as usual, she was able to manage everything perfectly. She could tell that Lilia didn’t like having Simon about, but she might have expected that. It gave Molly so much pleasure to be able to look after her old friend and help nurse him back to health. He was far from well and there was no guarantee he’d ever be anything more than a sickly, pill-popping invalid, but she hoped that the countryside, good food and sleep would work its magic on him. He looked healthier and happier every day.
One afternoon, as Molly came in from the garden carrying a wriggling boy in each arm, Lilia got up from her armchair. ‘I was just wondering, my dear,’ she said, ‘which flight you would prefer to Toronto. There is one at nine in the morning with BA or another in the afternoon with Virgin. Maybe the later slot would suit you better.’
‘Toronto?’
‘Yes. We have a six-date tour there just after Christmas. If we go on the later flight you will at least have the morning with the brats.’
Molly put the children down and they ran off, then turned to Lilia. ‘Don’t call them brats, please. And what trip to Toronto? I told you to cancel all my engagements.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Lilia, with a light laugh. ‘We can’t simply call a halt to your career. Besides, this has been in the diary for a year or more. I assumed you would want to honour it.’
Molly took a deep breath. ‘No. I’m not going. I told you, I’m exhausted and I need some time off.’
‘You are nothing of the kind. We shall go to Canada and then on to Hollywood to meet some very important movers and shakers. Boris is organising it.’
‘No,’ said Molly, simply but firmly. ‘I’m sorry for the inconvenience but I’m staying put here, with my husband, my children and Simon. They all need me.’
Lilia frowned. ‘Don’t you see, Molly? If you take your eyes off the ball and allow vulgar domestic matters to interfere with your superior destiny then you might as well retire and become a session singer. We were on a journey, you and I. We have not yet reached our destination.’
‘I can’t argue my point any more. I’m tired, and I’m staying here. Nothing you can say will alter that.’
Something like a snarl seemed to pass over Lilia’s face, but then she relaxed. She shrugged helplessly. ‘You’re wasting your time over those children. What can they add to your career in the long term? They’re very sweet and ideal for a photo opportunity, but let’s keep it real. It’s not as if they’re sextuplets. However, if that’s your choice—’
‘It is,’ Molly put in firmly.
‘—then you must live with the consequences,’ finished Lilia.
It was Molly’s turn to cook that night, and while she was not an accomplished chef, she always did her best. Rather ambitiously she attempted pork chops in Gorgonzola, but the meat was a little undercooked and the cheese seemed to curdle a bit once it was melted.
‘Delicious,’ Rupert said manfully, swigging down a gulp of wine after each mouthful.
‘My appetite hasn’t really come back,’ said Simon, apologetically, as he put his fork down on an almost untouched plate.
‘Unusual,’ Lila pronounced, as she pushed hers away, ‘but, then, so are shark bites. Now, is that a Pavlova I can see winking at me? More of a Wayne Sleep from the look of it, but shall we make a polite attempt?’
She approached the sideboard where Molly’s burnt offering rested on a glass dish, like an elderly tortoiseshell cat asleep in a fruit bowl. ‘Shall I be mother?’ she asked, picking up the pie knife and clutching it like a dagger above the scorched meringue. She made tutting noises as she spooned it into the Victorian glass dessert dishes. She even tasted a tiny morsel, scooping it up with her little finger and saying, ‘Poo!’ quietly and discouragingly, wrinkling her nose at Rupert. She carried three dishes over to him, Molly and Simon, then sat down in her chair and crossed her arms.
‘Are you not having any?’ said Molly, her voice trembling. The failure of the main course and now this attack on her Pavlova had quite undermined her self-esteem. First she had been judged negligent in allowing Michelle to care for the children. Now she couldn’t even rustle up a decent meal.
‘Delicious though it looks, I shall decline. Gooseberries do not agree with me,’ said Lilia.
‘They aren’t gooseberries, they’re kiwi fruit,’ said Molly, defensively.
‘Well, they look like genetically modified gooseberries, ‘snapped Lilia.
Rupert, meanwhile, had swallowed his first mouthful. ‘It’s very nice,’ he said.
‘Well done, Molly,’ said Simon, eating some of the less burnt bits.
‘I don’t understand!’ burst out Molly, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I cooked it at the lowest heat as
usual. How could it have burnt?’
‘Perhaps it was another of those long phone conversations you so enjoy,’ Lilia put in sweetly. ‘You were talking to your publicist today, weren’t you? Two hours, I think it was.’
‘I was on the phone for two or three minutes,’ protested Molly.
Lilia shook her head. ‘Dear Molly. So lost in her showbusiness world. She can talk about herself for a hundred and twenty minutes and it seems like five!’
Rupert gave Molly a quizzical look. ‘Were you really on the phone for two hours? What about the children?’
‘They were with me,’ said Lilia, ‘at the doctor’s surgery. Bertie hurt himself badly on Molly’s luxury home-manicure set, which she left carelessly on the sofa. I took the boys to have an anti-tetanus injection. I thought it best.’
‘What?’ said Molly, surprised. ‘Bertie’s hurt?’
‘Didn’t you even notice?’ Rupert said, sounding cross. He pushed his pudding away. ‘What are you playing at, Molly? I thought you wanted time off to look after the children, not while away your time chatting on the phone.’
‘Nothing, I… I…’ She looked at Simon. ‘Did you see Bertie get hurt?’
‘I was asleep most of the afternoon. Sorry.’
Molly thought she caught the ghost of a smile flutter across Lilia’s face.
The next day Simon had an important hospital appointment in London and Molly offered to go with him. ‘How was it?’ she asked, when Simon got back from his examination.
‘Sobering,’ said Simon, ironically. They turned and walked towards the hospital exit. ‘Apparently my liver is heavily scarred. I felt rather proud, when the doctor told me. Battle-scarred, I was thinking. Scars to be worn like trophies, testimony to my internal organ’s tenacity in the face of two bottles of vodka a day. But it seems these scars are not as decorative as I’d thought. After this it all gets very technical, but suffice to say that my darling liver has fought bravely on, but now, sadly, is facing a future of special needs.’
Molly grasped his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Simon.’
‘I’m thrilled!’ said Simon, jocularly. ‘I’ve always wanted to say, “I don’t have long”!’
‘That’s not true, though, is it?’
‘Well, I haven’t done myself any favours.’ They walked out of the hospital, headed across Euston Road and towards Camden Town.
‘But you’re recovering, I can see that.’
‘Yes,’ Simon concurred. ‘I do look better. My skin’s gone from healthy tan to magnolia, then rather suddenly into sunflower, and now I’ve emerged a pleasant Sahara sand. Very on trend. The tests show the liver has some function, bless it. But it’s a bit like Kenneth Williams towards the end: miserable and doesn’t want to be here.’
‘How sick are you?’ asked Molly.
‘Well, let’s just say I’m not putting anything away for the future. There was talk of a transplant. Just think, I could have some leather-clad motorcyclist’s organ inside me at long last. But it may not come to that. I’m booked in for a counselling session tomorrow morning. I expect they’re going to say the dreaded words “Alcoholics Anonymous”.’
‘Does that mean you can’t come back to Kent with me?’
‘So it seems. I must return to my bachelor flat and face reality.’
‘What about your medication?’
Simon held up his canvas messenger bag. ‘I’ve got most of what I need with me here. If you could send the rest of my things up by car later, I’d be most grateful.’
‘Of course.’ Molly nodded, then shot him an anxious look. ‘I’m worried you’ll go straight to the pub the moment you’re out of my sight.’
‘Only if I feel like dropping dead on the spot — and Hollyoaks is particularly gripping at the moment. So, no. I’m quite keen on living all of a sudden.’
‘Come on, then. I’ll get my driver to drop us off. I’d like to see where you live.’
‘Er, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’s a bit of a mess.’
‘Then I can help you to tidy up.’
‘No, really. I’ll be fine. Just drop me outside.’
‘You’re being shifty, Simon. What is it?’
‘You can’t see my flat. It’s a disgrace. I’d be embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be. I’m your friend.’
When they got to the front door, Simon paused. ‘I haven’t been here since the night of your concert at the Palladium. The night I had my dramatic collapse. I didn’t really have time to tidy up. Brace yourself.’
The fiat was like a bombsite. The hallway wasn’t too bad, but as soon as they entered the lounge they were confronted with a six-foot mountain of paperwork — letters, bank statements, poetic jottings, ideas for plays and final demands for household bills. Plates of half-eaten food led the way into the kitchen, which was piled high on every surface with more dirty plates, saucepans, empty tins and thick, greasy grime on and beneath everything.
In Simon’s room the bed was unmade. Indeed, it was naked —a bare, stained mattress only partially covered with a similarly naked but dramatically bloodstained duvet. An incongruously luxurious eight pillows were piled at one end, under the window; they were relatively new but strangers to a pillowcase. Beside the bed there was an overflowing ashtray, a packet of Marlboro and a lighter. Next to them a heavily fingerprinted wine glass held an inch of stale brandy.
‘Oh, my God,’ said Molly, looking about. ‘You weren’t joking. How on earth did it get like this?’
‘I can make you a cup of herbal tea without too much risk to your health, if you wish. I must apologise for the state of my home. I wasn’t expecting visitors.’
Molly peered at the mess that surrounded them. ‘Fuck me, Simon. Quentin Crisp said to ignore the dust, not garbage of every known perishable kind. This flat’s a health hazard. What’s the matter with you?’
‘What isn’t?’ said Simon, quietly, to himself. The shapes and swathes of the mess spoke clearly of many nocturnal dramas, much as the ripples and dunes of a damp beach tell all about the previous night’s storm. He must have done full-on King Lears every other night, sweating at the sky and the universe, invoking chaos. Domestic anarchy was the result.
Molly looked at her friend, quivering before her. She couldn’t help herself— she put her arms round him. It was Simon’s turn to cry. It was as if the dirty protest he had been making for ages had finally been noticed and help was on the way. He cried tears of thanks.
‘I’ve been so frightened,’ he said. ‘I thought I was going to die here and no one would notice. Thank you for coming to my rescue.’
‘Oh, Simon,’ said Molly, ‘I wish I’d known. I wish you’d told me. We’ve wasted so many years not speaking to each other. Thank goodness we’re together again. I’m going to look after you. I’m going to help you to get better. Now, then,’ she said, pulling away from him. ‘Let’s get this sorted. Bin-liners, scrubbing brush, bleach. It’s just like the day we moved into the squat together. Remember?’
The clean-up operation took several hours. They filled ten bags with rubbish, threw everything out of the fridge and cleaned the oven. They sorted the mountain of paperwork, placed the books in stacks against the walls and made up the bed.
‘Well, it looks better than it did,’ said Molly, wiping the sweat from her brow. ‘You don’t expect to see that sort of domestic filth north of the river.’ When she came to leave, she said, ‘I’m worried about you being here on your own. You’ll be okay, won’t you? Promise me you’ll call if you need anything at all.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Simon said stoutly. ‘You’ve been wonderful and I’ve loved my time in Kent, but I have to stand on my own two feet, you know. And Roger’s promised to come over and keep me company. I’m lucky to have two such good friends.’
They hugged again, then Simon gazed earnestly into Molly’s eyes. ‘There’s one thing, though.’
‘Yes?’
‘Lilia. Stay on your guard. I know you love her, but she’s
trying very subtly to undermine you at the moment.’
‘She’s angry with me because I won’t go to Toronto. I think she imagined that after a week or two I’d be dying to tour again. But I’m not.’
‘Just watch out, okay? I’m sure you can handle her but she’s a funny old thing and you don’t know what she’s capable of.’
‘I will. Be strong and take care, Simon. I’ll see you soon. I shall miss you. Make sure you come back to Kent as soon as you can.
Simon found it strange to be alone and back in his flat. Although he was much better than he had been, it was still just a matter of weeks since he had collapsed outside the stage door of the Palladium.
Molly was so concerned that, in his old environment he would take to the drink again — with fatal consequences — that she had arranged for him to see a cognitive behavioural therapist twice a week.
‘It must be costing you a fortune,’ he said to Molly, on one of her weekly visits. ‘The place reeks of very expensive carpets.’
‘Never mind that. As long as it’s helping you.’
‘She is rather brilliant, actually. We’re doing the Twelve Steps.’
‘Is that an AA term?’
‘Well, it’s not a song by Robbie Williams. I’ve already admitted my addiction. I got a gold star for that.’
‘Good boy.’
‘I’m dreading next week — I have to make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.’
‘Hmm. That should keep you busy till the end of the decade,’ said Molly.
Simon studied her as they sipped their tea. ‘You look like you could do with some counselling yourself. What’s up?’
Molly rubbed her eyes. ‘Oh, well, it’s Lilia again, seeing as you ask.’
‘I knew it would be,’ said Simon.
‘Perhaps I’m being paranoid but it feels like she’s taking over everything: the cooking, bathing the children. I came in the other day and she was giving Rupert a back massage. I feel like the au pair.’
‘You’ve got to fight back,’ said Simon, decisively.