Tandia

by Bryce Courtenay

  'Doo-wap-de-what?'

  'A doo-wap-de-wally-wally girl! You know when the singer's beltin' out a song, the three girls who stand behind him with their' ands out making little circles and their hips swingin', going, 'Doo-wap-de-wally-wally, doo-wap-de-wally-wally!'

  Peekay laughed. That's bloody marvellous, doo-wap-de-wally-wally. Wait until I tell Hymie.'

  Togger was suddenly serious. 'That's the problem with me whole family. They're all nearly but not quite. Carmen, that's me sister, she always wanted to be a jazz singer; she nearly made it…but not quite.'

  Peekay rested his hand on Togger's shoulder. 'Listen to me. I know what you're going to say, about this morning when I put you on the seat of your pants…'

  'You're right, Peekay. Here we go again! I thought. Till this morning I reckoned I was just about the best bleedin' amateur welterweight in Britain. I ain't been beat in three years; then you come along and give me a bleedin' boxing lesson!' Togger looked up at Peekay, his eyes tearful. 'Shit, not me also? Not another member of the nearly-but-not-fucking-quite family of fucking Browns!' Togger tried to smile. 'Me old man was nearly light heavyweight champion of the Merchant Navy, but 'e got knocked out in the final round when he was light years ahead on points.'

  'Togger! Stop talking like this! We're in this together, you hear? You train with me, we're going to the top together.' Peekay shook Togger's shoulder. 'You want to know something?' Togger looked at him querulously. 'Take me, I'm so fucking scared I have to win or I'll shit myself.'

  'What the hell are you talkin' about?'

  Peekay paused. 'Take you, you're not scared of who you are. You're Togger Brown and proud of it. You're known around your manor, people like you, you're open to life and you let it in.' Peekay paused again. 'Even your mum, you're loving and kind to her. Let me tell you about my mum. She's a dressmaker, she worked all her life behind a Singer sewing machine. When she wasn't praying to the Lord she was working for the rich people in town, making their clothes. I had no old man and she kept us, me and my grandpa. But we didn't love her. At six I wrote her off. Ever since, I've felt guilty for not loving her, for not being a real son. You see, for reasons I'll tell you about someday, I was scared when I was a kid. Scared shitless. So I decided to hide, run away from life.'

  'You're crackers, Peekay. You! Run away from life? You're going to Oxford and you just might end up world welterweight champion. Do me a favour, son!'

  'No, Togger, listen to me, it's true. You can hide in two places, you can be a nobody and simply disappear into the crowd, or you can hide up front, way ahead of anybody else. But that means you can never lose. You've got to fight harder, punch better, get better marks, win, win, win! Sometimes, inside me, I feel fifty years old and always scared. Scared that they - I don't know who "they" is - that they will find out who I really am. They'll see the yellow streak under the winning streak, see what's really under all the camouflage.'

  Togger's mouth fell open. 'Blimey, Peekay!'

  'All I'm trying to say, Togger, is that you seem to be the furthermost from a nearly-but-not-quite personality as it is possible to get.'

  Togger, his face serious, looked at Peekay. Thanks, Peekay. No, I mean it. Thanks for that, I appreciate your sayin' that a lot.'

  'Next stop Piccadilly!' the conductor shouted.

  Peekay, following Togger, was soon helplessly lost in the maze of little streets that networked London's Soho district. He was amazed at being accosted by the pros. They stood with unlit cigarettes virtually on every corner. 'Wanna a good time, darling?' It was the universal opening and, to his surprise, some of them were really very sexy. Togger appeared not to notice them, stopping at last outside a building which resembled hundreds they'd passed and which fronted, apart from four or five steps to the door and a small railed fence, directly onto the street. An outside stairway led down to a basement door about ten feet below street level, above which burned a Single tiny blue globe set into a socket on the lintel of the doorway. The window beside the doorway was blacked out, though the light from the street lamp reached halfway down the steps.

  They descended the steps and Togger pressed the doorbell. Almost immediately the door opened and bright light spilled over them from the interior passageway. A very large, dark-haired guy with thick brows and bad acne scars, dressed in black pants and a white tuxedo top and red bow tie, greeted them, 'Hello there, young Togger. How's tricks?' He asked in a friendly but surprisingly light voice for such a big man. 'Comin' in then?' He stepped aside, pushing his back to the wall so they could squeeze past him. 'Be a love and sign your guest in,' he said to Togger, without any affectation in his voice.

  'Les, this is me mate, Peekay…from South Africa. He's a boxer, very handy an' all.'

  Les smiled. He was missing three teeth on the left of his lower jaw so his smile looked lop-sided. 'How do, Peekay. We ain't expectin' no trouble, but you never can tell, nice to know we got a coupla likely lads on the premises.' He threw a punch at Togger, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. 'Take care now, Tiger!'

  Togger wrote their names in a ledger which stood on a small table at the end of the passageway. Beside it stood a wooden plant stand from which an aspidistra sprouted. On the walls lining the passageway were several hunting prints; the wallpaper was in an art deco design and looked vaguely thirties in appearance. The effect was as though they'd entered the home of a middle-class, middle-aged couple who hadn't bothered to redecorate since their marriage. Only a small modem spotlight, which shone directly at the doorway to bring anyone entering into sharp relief, gave the game away.

  The passageway led into a large room filled with a soft orangey red light from two spotlights set into the furthermost corners on either side of a small stage and bar which occupied the front wall area. The walls seemed to be painted in a gloss black and a red velvet upholstered bench ran around them. The remainder of the room was filled with small round tables, none of which seemed to take more than two people. The room was almost full, with about thirty men and a dozen women at the tables. On the bench surrounding the room sat almost as many men holding drinks, though no women. Several girls were serving, dressed in 'skimpy black satin dresses, the skirts not quite covering their bottoms and the fronts cut low. With this outfit they wore tiny white lace aprons and waitress caps, fishnet stockings and high heels. When they bent over the tables to serve they revealed a generous amount of panty bottom, and written across the panties in some sort of luminous paint were their names. The girl nearest to the entrance where Togger and Peekay stood appeared to be called Gerald, the 'ine' having slipped around the corner of her right buttock.

  There appeared to be no band; instead a pair of speakers on either side of the small stage pumped out Dixieland.

  'The red lights, they're for the skin tones, see,' Togger explained. 'Strippers always like to work under red lights, it gives 'em a sort of tanned look. You don't see all their bumps an' bruises.'.

  Peekay followed Togger over to the small bar which sported four chairs, all of which were empty. 'Patrons can't use the bar,' Togger explained. A small neat man in evening dress who appeared to be in his forties, his thinning blond hair greased and combed flat against his scalp, greeted them. 'Gawd, look what the cat's brought in. Who's your pretty friend, Toggalogs?' Without asking, he poured them each a brown ale, half filling the glass and placing the bottles with the remaining beer beside the glasses on the bar.

  'Hello, Tony, glad to see you're your cheery self. Tony, this is Peekay, Peekay, Tony. Tony owns this cesspit.'

  'Cheeky sod! Welcome to Fleshpot, Peekay,' Tony said, turning to take an order from one of the girls.

  'Hello there, Togger, long time no see. Where you been then, darling?' It was the girl with Gerald on her bum.

  'Here, there and everywhere, kom-see, kom-sar! You know me, Geraldine, keepin' me nose clean.' Togger turned to include Peekay. 'This is Peekay, from South Africa, he's a mate
of mine.'

  'Pleased to meetcha, Peekay. You a boxer then?' Peekay rose slightly awkwardly. Geraldine was pretty and she had a great bosom. 'Hello, Geraldine, nice to know you.' He looked around awkwardly, trying to keep his eyes from her spendid decolletage. 'Wow! What a place. It's all a bit much for a country boy.'

  'Keep your hands off that boy, you slack tart.' Tony handed Geraldine her tray of drinks.

  'Look who's talkin'!' Geraldine shot back. 'See you both later then, I'll have my numbers by half eleven, I'll buy you a drink.'

  'Better get ready, darling, show time!' Tony called after her.

  Togger looked surprised. 'You going on, then?' Geraldine laughed, though a little nervously. 'It's me debut; wish me luck.'

  'Break a leg,' Togger said as Geraldine left with the tray. He turned to Peekay. 'She's a nice bird, is Geraldine, very tasty. She comes down with Carmen to the gym sometimes.' Peekay was too polite to enquire about Togger's sister and Togger didn't seem to be looking around for her. He filled his glass with the remaining brown ale from the bottle. Just then the music stopped. Togger nudged him and indicated with a nod and a look in the direction of Tony behind the bar. Peekay turned to see Tony putting a record on a gramophone. He was wearing a top hat and white gloves; a black malacca cane with a silver top rested at the side of the gramophone. Tony saw Peekay looking at him and pursed his lips in an imaginary kiss. 'You really are a very pretty boy,' he said. Then he pulled at the lapels of his coat and picked up his cane.

  Tony let himself out from behind the bar and skipped up towards the small stage just as a single blues note sounded from a trumpet. He did a small dance routine on stage, no more than a dozen steps, with a tapped finale, which brought him to a halt with his arms wide. Holding his cane in one hand and his top hat in the other, the microphone adjusted exactly to his height he said, 'It's show time, boys and girls! Show time at Tony del Grado's Fleshpot! London's hot-to-trot spot, where the spirit is willing and the flesh is sleek!'

  Togger spoke quietly out of the corner of his mouth. 'His real name's Arthur Higgins. His dad's a bleedin' costermonger, got a barrow down Shepherd Market!'

  The trumpet sounded low and sweet as it worked the blues number and Tony, in tune with it, allowed his voice to take on a sincere note. 'In the immortal tradition of the great Gypsy Rose Lee and in the name of all the artistes from the Folies Bergères and the Lido in gay Paree we bring you, for the first time tonight at the Fleshpot, the sensational Fifi la Tombo!'

  The drums cut suddenly and a new, langorously slow blues number started. The house spots dimmed and a single spot opened on the stage as the curtain opened to reveal Geraldine in a black evening gown and long black velvet gloves, the gown hugging her body and slashed to the thighs. Her routine wasn't exactly Rita Hayworth; it was mostly easy stuff, the timing not critical, but nevertheless the audience seemed to like it. Peekay found his chest feeling constricted and the tight stove-pants held his erection painfully. He pulled at his collar, trying to stay calm…Lifting his glass to his lips, his eyes fixed on Geraldine, he poured brown ale down his chin, missing his mouth by half an inch.

  Geraldine finally stripped down to a small red G-string and the lights cut, leaving the room in darkness. As the curtain closed, the house spots came on to tremendous applause, even the hostesses standing up to cheer.

  'I've seen a lot worse in me time.' Togger exclaimed.

  'Blimey, Peekay, her bristols must be made out of bleedin' marble. Didya see how they stood straight out?'

  'I didn't notice.' Peekay said, sotto voce.

  Togger looked up in surprise. 'You lying bastard!' They both broke up in laughter. 'Christ, Togger, I'd throw a world title for a night with her.'

  'Oil Steady on, lad, when you've got the world title, just imagine the birds you'll pull an' all!' Togger stood up on the crossbars of the bar stool and reached over and under the bar counter for another couple of bottles of brown ale.

  Peekay laughed. 'Don't think I haven't thought about that!'

  The house lights dimmed and the spot returned to rest on Tony at the microphone. The record began to play a soft continuous timpany, more a feathering of the drums than a beat, the drummer tickling the skins, making them scratch and pant. To Peekay's surprise Tony addressed the microphone quietly, his voice hardly raised. 'Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring you…Carmen Brown!' He reached into an inside pocket of his tails and produced a harmonica. The spot dimmed, though it remained on him, and a second spot opened up onto centre stage as the curtains lifted. Peekay could feel Togger go rigid beside him. Standing completely still, her arms raised high, wearing a white evening gown cut not very differently from the one Geraldine had worn, stood a beautiful coloured girl. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders and her skin was the colour of mimosa honey. The drum started to pick out a syncopation and Tony's harmonica blew a sharp, clean note as Carmen began to move, her slim body jerking to every drum beat and sliding to the soft roll of the harmonica. She couldn't possibly be Togger's sister. Ginger, freckled Togger. No bloody way! Her routine was. the most sensuous thing Peekay had ever seen, a whipped cream experienced way beyond anything he'd ever fantasised, but out of respect for Togger he desperately willed himself not to become aroused. But he might as well have tried to stop his heart beating. By the time her routine was complete her honeybrown body was bathed in sweat as she bumped and smoothed to the drum beat and the harmonica. The harmonica rose high and held, the drum spat a series of sharp rattat-tat-tats and cut dead as Carmen raised her hands and spread her feet wide in the same position she'd opened with, though this time she stood only in a diamante G-string and high heels. The lights went to black just as she brought her arms down and hooked her thumbs into the silver G-string, pulling downwards. The place went wild. Carmen was something else all together: erotic, wild, she easily broke every demarcation the Apostolic Faith Mission could in their wildest imaginings have laid down for penultimate sinnership.

  Peekay wanted to say all sorts of things. His heart was pumping and his mouth was dry. He placed his hand on Togger's shoulder, which was still rigid, but relaxed as soon as he felt Peekay grip it, as though his friend had somehow released the tension. 'Your sister, how can she be your sister, Togger?'

  Half sister, me old man's from Haiti. He jumped ship in Bristol when he was seventeen. Me mum is Irish and 'ad a bun in the oven, which was me without a known daddy, so she hitched him to give him citizenship and make her respectable. A quid pro quo.'

  'Put it there, partner,' Peekay stuck his hand out.

  'What for?' Togger took his hand.

  'Well, I don't know who my daddy was either!'

  'Honest?' Togger laughed, 'Funny that, ain't it? I mean not knowing who your old man was. Mind, I can't explain, old Doug, that's me old man, could'na been better, he gets a bit mad sometimes when he's had a few snorts. But he's never put an 'and on Carmen or me mum, not ever, not even once. And I soon bleedin' learned to stay out the way when he'd had a few.'

  'So your sister, I mean Carmen, she's younger than you?'

  'Yeah, I musta been just about ready to pop outa the oven when me mum got hitched to Doug, a year and two months. We went to school together, we was like twins. That's how come I learned to box. I was always fightin' some bastard because he called Carmen a nigger, like.'

  'So who's the good lookin' friend, Togger?' A female voice said suddenly behind Peekay.

  'Hello, Carmo!' Togger said, smiling broadly. Togger's sister moved to stand between them, bending down she gave Togger a peck on the side of his face. 'Peekay, this is me little sister, Carmen Brown.' It was obvious from the formal way he named her and the tone of his voice that Togger was proud of the beautiful young woman who stood beside him.

  'You were marvellous, Carmen. I've never seen anything as wonderful in my life.' Peekay said.

  Carmen laughed. She had a big mouth and her teeth were even and white and her dark
eyes danced. 'I hope you mean sexy, Peekay? I'm paid to be sexy, not wonderful! Tony del Grado's Fleshpot don't want no class acts.' She looked up at Tony, who was back behind the bar. 'Ain't that right, Tony, baby?'

  'Art doesn't pay the rent, darling. We're peddling pussy not Picasso!'

  'No honestly, Carmen, I'm not an expert, this is the first time I've ever seen a strip show, but you were the best by far!'

  Carmen looked at Peekay in surprise. 'First time?'

  'Where've you been, lovey, under a rock? I don't suppose you're still a virgin, are you?' Tony said archly.

  Peekay went beetroot, unable to respond. 'Only in the sense that he hasn't been sodomised by a berk like you!' Togger shot back angrily.

  'Now, now you two!' Carmen said firmly. 'Nice to know you, Peekay, we'll have a drink afterwards.' She jerked a thumb in Tony's direction, 'I've got to go and hustle drinks for the fairy with the top hat and wand.'

  Just then three sharp rings sounded from a buzzer under the bar. 'Shit! Trouble! It's Les. At the door!' Tony said in alarm.

  'Cmon, Peekay!' Togger flew off the stool and was heading for the passageway. Peekay followed quickly.

  The door stood ajar and Les sat in the doorway, his arms covering his head. Three men were bent over him, two holding him down while one kicked him in the ribs. Togger let fly with a right which sent the kicker backwards just as Peekay caught him in a rugby tackle. The big man was forced backwards, knocking the back of his head against the wall on the far side of the steps. Peekay was up in a flash as a second man's boot landed, just missing his groin but sending him backwards into the arms of the man he'd just tackled. Fortunately the impact where he'd hit his head against the wall had dazed him and Peekay was able to leap up again towards his attacker. There wasn't room to throw a punch so, grabbing the man by the lapels of his coat, he gave him a Liverpool kiss, his forehead smashing into his assailant's face connecting with the edge of his brow and the base of his nose. The man dropped to his knees clutching at his face.