Rehab Blues

by Adrian Laing

  As the darkness and the silence continued, a slow creaking noise was heard from one side of the room. Not near the door but from a ceiling corner. Nobody could see Mark smile as he reckoned, rightly, that this was coming from a speaker inside the room. The creaking sound was followed by the sound of a door closing. The distinct clip-clopping of a horse was heard, moving from one side of the room to the other, to another door which seemed to creak open and then close, quietly. Mark’s smile broadened; his bet was that Gootsy was about to play Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.

  But then something happened, the deployment of a little trick which Gootsy loved. Gootsy had set up a little condenser which had been programmed, silently, and at a very precise time, to emit just a tiny spray of cold, moistened air in the direction of the group. For Gootsy, a breath of cold, fresh air worked wonders, every time. Gootsy smiled as the cold air tickled his back and wondered whether he should call it ‘fresh air therapy’.

  Gootsy over many years had worked out what made people afraid, and what made them laugh. He was often tempted to combine the two therapies into one experience; after all, to Gootsy they were simply different examples of life therapy: fear and joy and everything in between. The point to Gootsy was that it made the participants feel alive.

  As the silent cold air reached the centre of the room, each one of the group shivered in turn, not quite sure this time whether the cold air was part of the set up or not. Mandy by now was not so cock-sure. In fact a fear was beginning to grow inside Mandy’s mind, a nagging troublesome fear. No one could hear Mandy’s internal mantra – ‘it’s all bullshit, it’s all bullshit’ – but then everyone was going through a very different experience.

  Gootsy had planned this one to precision: Candle goes out in twenty minutes, creaking doors, closing doors, sounds of horses, cold wind – this was all designed to whet the appetite of the group’s imagination. Now the real fun could begin.

  As the chilled air passed and the darkness and silence became ever more intense, Gootsy’s absolute favourite sound started, slowly at first and then ever so gradually becoming louder and louder. There was something deeply unsettling about the sound of a baby crying; the sound betrayed no obvious distress, but the possibility that things might take a different turn very quickly was enough; it hit the nerves on so many levels, and then it stopped and a nauseating silence followed.

  After a while the silence was broken by a very distinct sound. Each one of the group could now hear a deep male voice coughing, but unsure as to whether anyone else could hear the same sound which felt to everyone as too real and too close to be coming from the speakers. Gootsy was the only one with his eyes open, a firm believer that there was a lot to be seen in the dark, particularly when the red light on the remote control could be pointed towards the door, acting as a landing light for a barefoot visitor. Gootsy guided a foot past him and into the centre of the group.

  “Now,” shouted Gootsy, “come out now, now, reveal yourself, NOW!”

  The lights in the Encounter Area suddenly burst into life to reveal – standing right in the centre of the group – the life form of a man, or perhaps a beast in a dark cloak, the sight of which caused the group to let out a collective, uninhibited and quite spectacular scream.

  The black cloak dropped in theatrical fashion to reveal a man dressed distinctively in a white sequined stage suit wearing fighter pilot sunglasses, wearing a deep black coiffed wig, exaggerated sideburns and holding a microphone.

  At the same moment the cloak hit the floor, the unseen speakers burst forth with the soundtrack to one of The King’s best known songs with the words: ‘uh uh, I’m all shook up, oh yeah’.

  Mark let out a sort of laughing scream that he hadn’t heard from himself for many a year and clutched his stomach in the throes of giggles.

  “Elvis, Elvis baby! Where have you been brother?” Mark started clapping and wiping the tears from his eyes.

  Davy Crockett couldn’t resist his favourite line. “Classic, brother, classic.”

  Toni was laughing hysterically, hugging Betty who was also crying but in a very ambiguous manner because it wasn’t really clear whether the tears were of sorrow, fear, joy, shock or hysteria or a combination of every extreme emotion Betty had ever felt in her life.

  The man that would be Elvis spoke into the microphone. “Why shucks, thank you, thank you all, thank you so much, I’ll be here all week.” And with that David took off the Elvis wig and took a bow, gave Gootsy a high five and walked out the door.

  It wasn’t until the pitch of the laughter had come down a few octaves before Gootsy noticed that Mandy was completely frozen; her eyes were wide open, but she was as still as a statue.

  “Don’t worry everyone. This is quite normal. Mandy is a very intuitive young lady. It happens. She’ll be right as rain in a few moments, just getting over the excitement in her own good time.”

  Metti without instruction sat next to Mandy, placed an arm around her and held Mandy in a tight cuddle. “You’ll be OK Mandy,” said Metti.

  19

  Simon Hall’s shark-like eyes focussed on Ralph Crossley with undisguised contempt. “You know why you’ll never be the boss, Ralph? I mean the boss of anything. It’s because you’ve got no balls. See, with people like me – not that you’d understand old boy – we understand that decisions have to be made. Hard, risky decisions. You see, we’re different, Ralph. I was born to lead, I was made captain of the school cricket team when was I was thirteen, you know. Bet you’ve never played cricket in your whole life. I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath, you just don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  Ralph kept his eyes on the floor and shook his head.

  “OK, let me share something with you. The powers that be in New York are very keen on the unholy Trinity, real keen. They seem very up-to-speed on this one. I guess they find the whole scenario kind of… you know… British. It tickles them, I reckon. And they know we can milk this for all it’s worth. The point is this, there’s a level of interest in this story that worries me, a bit. If it worries me, it needs to worry you even more Ralph because we have to get this right. But don’t get me wrong, we’re going to print this story come what may.”

  Simon paused and looked up to the ceiling as if he was about to spout some very important truth. “Thing about lawyers Ralph is that they’re intellectual mercenaries. Pay them enough and they’ll say what you want to hear.”

  Simon looked back at Ralph as if coming out of a mini-trance. “I know I don’t own the Sunday News Ralph but I own this story – I’m going stick my neck out on this one, so get it right – do you understand me – if I get hit on this one you’re going to break my fall – you get that, don’t you?”

  “Sure do, boss.”

  ***

  Helen, David and JC had convened for a very early meeting to assess the state of play.

  “OK, where are we?” asked David. “Metti is sharing with Mandy, just for tonight, then she’ll be off. Do you think Mandy will be OK, Helen? She looked completely fazed by the Gootsy special. I mean she seems to have retreated into herself. How long do you think that will last for?”

  Helen looked, and sounded very serious. “I’ve seen this before David. Mandy’s in a state of shock, that’s all. We’ll let her sleep for the morning and then see how she is. We might need Aaron to fix this one, I don’t know. It depends on where her head is at when she surfaces.”

  Helen turned her attention to the other guests. “Betty will be thinking of leaving soon. Toni is really one only session away. I’m having a chat with Toni a bit later this morning to assess his progress and how he feels. I don’t know if Mark will want to stay when Toni’s left. Davy’s got some distance to go, but his time is nearly up.”

  “Well,” said David. “Look’s like a busy week, one way or the other. We’ve got a major ego, sorry celeb, turning up later today or tomorrow. W
e’re already on red alert for this one.” David’s mobile buzzed indicating a new arrival. “Shit, spoke too soon, she’s here already. Action stations guys, this one’s a hotty. We’ll need to be real careful of the tabloids with this one. JC, your time to shine, son.”

  “Thanks, dad. Look while you’re on my case – and talking of tabloids – do you think you can let me know how the impending doom is to be averted? We can’t have more than a couple of days left before the Sunday News goes into print – it’s going to be front page I guess this weekend. I mean how’s that one going, dad, if I may ask?”

  “JC, you do jump to conclusions son. I reckon we’ll be alright, don’t worry. I had another little chat with Simon and told him my Q.C. had said if they go to print then he and his boss would be arrested and be in jail within one hour. I told him my Q.C. had said new provisions of the Human Rights Act had come into force just recently and he better check the position, you know, for his own good.”

  JC did not look convinced. “When did you take advice from a Q.C.? Which Q.C.? What are these new laws you’re talking about dad?”

  “Listen, JC. Simon Hall is worried about something. I can sense his fear. Helen knows I’ve got quite a special skill in that respect. I can see what’s happened here, maybe even more clearly than Simon sees. He’s not to know I was being a bit – you know – creative. It’s stalled him; he’s got to think about this a bit more. Oh, by the way – I’ve changed our wireless password and upgraded the security on our systems, so all in all, no worries, JC. Anything else worrying you?”

  JC sort of shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. But David was his dad, and his dad had never – ever – let him down in the past, so JC reluctantly let it go “OK, dad. I know it’s a trust thing. Jesus, how often do we say that to our guests.”

  “Quite,” said Helen in her best matriarchal tone.

  “Right,” said JC. “I get it. Moving on – maybe it’s as good a time as any to review our responsibilities here? I mean I understand that it’s important for a whole load of reasons to keep things tight but I’m getting a bit pissed off with organising all the food, the shopping, the cooking even.”

  Helen and David looked at each other betraying a slight mutual feeling of guilt on that score.

  “Yeah, we’ve been thinking the same thing, JC. Let’s just get through the next couple of days and I promise we’ll have a rethink about that side of things, OK?”

  “Is that a promise, dad?” asked JC.

  “Sure is son, I promise.” No sooner had David stopped talking than a dishevelled bundle in female form was ushered into the room, accompanied by a young male, a manager-looking type, who asked Helen where he should put the new guest as if he was delivering a recorded package.

  The young lady was placed carefully on the sofa while JC made a discreet exit before the brief introductions were completed.

  “Is she OK, I mean are you sure about this?” David looked at the young lady who by any standards was a wreck.

  The young man took a step back and looked at the almost unrecognisable form of Katie Windsor, the well-known American singer and actress.

  “Hi, you must be David, and Helen, hi. I’m Steve, Katie’s manager. Well, I look after her and stuff like that. Well, in Europe anyway. Thanks for this. Look it was a close call whether to call an ambulance or drop her off at the hospital. But I’ve seen this before. There’s nothing wrong with Katie except she’s exhausted and got a bit too wasted last night, and the night before, in fact ever since the premiere of Lost Cause at Leicester Square last week. I’ve cleared her diary for a couple of days. Do you think that’s enough? She’s got a bundle of promotions to do over here before she’s due back in New York at the end of the week.”

  Steve looked at Helen and David if they were car mechanics. Helen sat beside Katie and placed a hand on Katie’s face, wiping away the straggly hair hiding the face of a very tired and hung over movie star.

  Steve looked deeply into Katie’s vacant, weary eyes. “Katie’s whole image is built on the innocent girl-next-door thing. You can keep this under wraps, can’t you David?”

  “Steve, that’s what we do. Leave Katie with us. Why don’t you call in or phone a bit a later and we’ll let you know how things are going. Can’t guarantee a forty-eight hour turn around, Steve, but we’ll see what we can do, OK?”

  “OK, David. Thanks and you too, Helen. There’s a lot riding on this, my job included. I’ve a thousand and one excuses to make so, I’ll be off and I’ll speak with you later.”

  Steve disappeared out of the door and left David and Helen alone with Katie Windsor, the starlet known to the public as the darling innocent face of one successful film after another.

  “OK,” said Helen, “now we’ve got Mandy and Metti sharing there’s more than enough room for Katie to have her own space for at least one day. Let’s get her to her room David, and I’ll keep a close eye on her. We can chat through later.”

  ***

  “OK, Toni, tell me where you’re at.” Helen looked surprisingly composed considering the physical effort that was involved in getting Katie to bed only a few moments earlier, but Helen was a trouper, after all.

  “Where am I at? Jeez, Helen, I’ve been here for a few days, and it feels like years. I mean in a good way. I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve shat myself – what more could I ask for?” Toni smiled a broad genuine smile from ear to ear.

  “But how do you feel?” asked Helen.

  “Well, it’s funny you should ask, Helen. If I’m honest, I feel real horny. But in a good way if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure that I do Toni. Go on.”

  Toni for once looked quite solemn, serious even. “Helen, it’s like this. I didn’t come here to be free from my urges. I’m sure you’ve heard that before. I can see that I’m like an alcoholic; it’s not about being ‘fixed’, it’s about accepting that you’ve got a problem and then dealing with it one day at a time. Sex is a bad habit, that’s all. I’ve learnt a lot Helen and I guess as time moves on I’ll learn more. This place is very real in its own way; I mean the encounters are bizarrely real. The people are real. The relationships are real. I guess it’s about growing up. I certainly feel as if I’ve aged, Helen. I mean in a good way.”

  Helen studied Toni carefully. “That’s about as much as you can expect to get from The Place, Toni. An understanding of yourself and a sort of new found maturity. Is that a fair way of looking at it?”

  Toni knew what was coming and looked quite sad. “OK, Helen. I’m ahead of you. It’s time for me to click my little red heels and head back to Kansas. There’s no place like home, is there?”

  “Toni, I’m glad you feel that way. I really am. But listen, it’s not over yet.”

  Toni’s eyes opened wide with the possibility of a new challenge.

  “What I mean Toni, is that we’ll organise a proper Graduation Ceremony for you. You deserve it, OK?”

  “OK, Helen, thanks, for everything.” Toni thought for a moment. “Can we do this tomorrow morning maybe? Mark and I are working on a new song; I reckon we’ll crack it today.”

  “A new song, that’s great. What’s it called?”

  “It’s a work in progress, Helen. But the working title is ‘Rehab Blues’.”

  “‘Rehab Blues’? I like that Toni, sounds perfect.”

  “It will be Helen, I promise.”

  ***

  Helen, David and JC had convened for a quiet moment before Toni’s leaving do started.

  “Are we OK, with this? It feels a bit risqué.” David looked uncomfortable.

  “It’ll be fine, David, stop fretting,” said Helen.

  David was still in a bit of a state of concern, although he was trying hard not to show it. “It’s just that I didn’t expect the whole band to appear. Katie’s not ready and is staying in bed, a
s is Mandy, so I can’t see any problem, really. We’ll have Metti, Betty, Mark, Toni of course and Davy. Who’s turned up to see Toni?”

  “Just the drummer Zack what’s-his-name and Sig, the lead guitarist,” said JC.

  David, Helen and JC approached the French windows that lead out to the patio area. Metti was having an impromptu training session in the garden, demonstrating a few material arts poses surrounded by Zack, Sig, Davy, Toni and Mark while Betty stood to the side, watching.

  Helen stood on the steps and called for order, which took some time to prevail. In time everyone turned to face Helen and David, falling into an awkward silence that precedes an unwanted speech.

  “Please, can I have your attention, thank you. As I always say on these occasions, it really is a great pleasure to reach this stage. Today is Toni’s leaving day, his graduation. Toni has been a star pupil, he really has. Toni we’ve a couple of special guests to present you with your leaving present.”

  On cue Tim and Tamara stepped in front of Helen, Tamara holding a large present.

  “Toni,” said Tamara in an impressively loud voice, “is a very special person. He came here knowing he had issues to face up and has done so very… courageously. Tim and I are really, impressed, aren’t we Tim?”

  Tim nodded in clear approval while Tamara continued.

  “We all had a think as to what you should take away with you from The Place, and after much deliberating we decided on this, although I must admit Mark did help out here.” Tamara held out a present of some size and waited for Toni to step up and receive it. Without a moment’s hesitation Toni carefully peeled off the wrapping paper to reveal – eventually – a beautiful, state-of-the-art electric guitar which could let loose any number of sounds, imitate any instrument and let rip with countless melodies at the touch of one of its many buttons; a stunning, glittering example of the modern age.