by Adrian Laing
“What is this shit? You been drying out horse shit, brother?” Mark was a connoisseur of many things, shit being one of them.
Davy took back the joint and looked at it quizzically and took another puff. “Really? Works for me brother, I’m cool.”
The group seemed to lose themselves in the small flames of the fire and were content to say nothing for some time.
David decided to up the stakes, as gently as he could. “It’s a funny thing about The Place. You know we’re very careful about who we take in – and for how long. We don’t pretend we’re in the business of curing people. We prefer not to rely on drugs – well, you know what I mean – medication. It never ceases to amaze us what can be achieved through personal encounters of one kind or another.”
“Hey, brother,” said Davy “there’s no need for the sale’s pitch; I mean we’re here already. Works for me, I’m feeling great.”
“And how about you, Mandy? Are you feeling great?” Mandy was staring deep into the fire with unnerving intensity, as if in a trance.
“Sorry, David you were saying? I was so lost in the fire, it’s strange. I guess people used to live like this all the time.”
“No, sister, the animals lived like this all the time. The human lot were in caves, making more humans. At least the white ones were. I mean they can be seen too easily in the dark, you know what I mean, brother.” Davy couldn’t help get in a dig, but the group took the comment in the friendly spirit in which it was intended.
Mark seemed to pick up that David had some kind of agenda and wanted to test a theory, just out of curiosity.
“Yeah, it’s about honesty, I guess. Mandy, do you have a problem with being honest?” Mark knew he was jumping the gun, but couldn’t help himself.
Mandy continued to stare into the fire. “I’ve not got a problem with being honest, it’s just that whenever I’ve been honest I’ve ended up in deep shit, that’s all.”
Katie could sense some fun here. “But why is that, Mandy? If you’re not doing anything wrong, then why should telling the truth be an issue? I can’t see the problem.”
“You want to tell your mother you’ve shagged her boyfriend? Is that what you mean?” Mandy’s response caused Mark to spit out his beer.
Katie was surprisingly quick. “No, Mandy, I mean it’s about not shagging your mother’s boyfriend in the first place.”
Mandy’s mini-confession seemed to shock the group into silence, just for a while.
“I’ll tell you a secret.” Mark took a long glug from his beer and braced himself. He wasn’t going to be outdone by Mandy, not with a little shocker like screwing her mother’s boyfriend. Mark was way further up the scales, in fact Mark was in a different league all round.
“OK, here it is. I’ve had my way with… royalty. In a private loo in Buckingham Palace. Beat that.” Mark sat back as if he just laid down four aces.
“No shitting, Mark,” Davy was impressed.
Katie and Mandy were just curious. “OK, then,” said Katie. “It would of course be totally wrong for you to let slip a name. But maybe if we just speculated and if during our speculation you might, I don’t know, cough or something, we could draw our own conclusions.” Katie looked intensely at Mark to see if he was willing to play.
“Hey, Katie Windsor, I might cough, sneeze or whatever, but I ain’t telling,” Mark smiled and the group as one realised it was game on.
Davy was first. “Princess Anne?”
Mandy jumped in. “Fergie, bet it was Fergie. No, OK, Princess Margaret.”
“Which Princess Margaret?” Katie laughed out loud but no one seemed to get her joke. “This is fun, it’s like I shagged with my little eye.” This time Katie was rewarded with a little group titter.
Davy, Katie and Mandy mumbled away collectively as if racking their brains for an obvious name. Out of the blue Davy burst into hysterical laughter, rolling in contortions on the ground and just managed to splutter out: “Say it ain’t’ so, Joe, say it ain’t so.”
Katie and Mandy looked at each other. This was above their heads, whatever it was, because there was an evil-looking smile broadening across Mark’s face and Davy’s hysterics continued.
“I got you, brother, I got you. Listen ladies, you don’t get it. The man here said he’d screwed royalty. The man didn’t say whether the vibe was like AC or DC.” That was all Davy could come out with before the contortions of laughter took over again.
Mandy held her hand over her mouth. “You mean…”
“Yeah, baby I mean Mr Mark ended up having some batty boy, some royal batty.” And with that line Davy was reduced to further uncontrollable contortions which even David found infectious.
“Really, Mark. Is that right?” Katie was hooked.
Mark tried to look serious. “OK, game’s over. Look, I’ll tell you something. I’m with Mandy on this one. I mean yeah for sure if you do the right thing then OK the truth is going to be your friend and ally. But you know not everyone has the same idea as to what’s wrong and what’s right. Sometimes – not all the time – Mandy’s right and the truth can land you in some deep shit. It’s like coming through customs and being asked: ‘Anything to Declare?’”
David picked up that Mark had taken this as far as he felt comfortable and decided to shift the spotlight on to Katie.
“OK, Mark er, thanks for sharing that with us. I’m OK with leaving the rest of the story to my imagination, well maybe not. Anyway, Katie. Do you think Mark and Mandy are right when they say that sometimes the truth can get you into trouble, I mean what do you think?”
Katie suddenly looked very serious, sad almost. “I’ll tell you what I think, honestly. I feel like a fraud in this company. I like you Mandy I do, but I can’t get my head around having sex with your mother’s boyfriend. I mean apart from the fact that it’s simply weird, what a thing to do to your mother. Mark, good for you, if anyone should get away with sticking it up royalty, I reckon that should be you. As a life metaphor, that’s up there Mark. Davy, get stoned and drunk if you want to, it’s got nothing to do with me.”
Katie paused as if steeling herself for the big confession. “Listen, guys, I’m no use at this sort of stuff. I get drunk – out of it drunk – on two beers and one shot of vodka. Here’s my truth – I hate drinking. It makes me feel sick, I look twenty years older the next day, my head aches, my mouth smells vile, my hair is sticky for god’s sake, I can’t do anything, I just want a power shower and to make myself look attractive. Am I the only one here who thinks that’s cool? My problem is that I am and always have been naturally straight. I like to jog at dawn, go to bed feeling physically tired but good and wake up feeling great. I like reading books, preferably in a hot bath surrounded by scented candles. I‘d rather go and watch a fringe play than get drunk. It’s other people that’s my problem, I’m OK actually. Tell me why I’m the odd one out here? The idea of inhaling whatever you’re inhaling Davy turns my stomach. It really does smell like shit. And I’m not going to have sex until I fall in love. I just think you’re all stupid really. There, I’ve said it. Sorry, but there’s my truth and I guess I’m now the one in deep shit. Oh god what I’ve just said? I’m sorry.”
Katie placed her head in her hand and sobbed quietly.
No one noticed David smile with relief. It was as if Helen had not only foreseen the direction this session was going to take but was in control of the weather. On cue there was a clap of thunder and rain, monsoon-like, that appeared out of nowhere.
“Someone’s decided to piss on our parade, time to head back to the ranch.” David didn’t need to encourage the group to up themselves and make a quick dash back through the Heath in the darkness aided only by the light from David’s mobile phone which made a pretty good impression of a torch, when needed.
24
David tried not to wake Helen as he crept into their little bedroom in the
annex to The Place, but he was never going to be successful on that score as Helen was already awake.
“Pity about that. I heard the rain and thought of you lot and then tried to get back to sleep. It must be very late, David. Was it a good one?”
David wasn’t entirely sure. “I guess so. It was like you said it would be. But you know it wasn’t Mandy who burst open but Katie. I think she’s ready to head back to the real world.”
Helen sat up not willing to let such a comment go unanswered. “You mean to her real world. This is our real world, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.”
“And oh yes. We’ve two newcomers coming later today. We’ll screen them this afternoon. There’s a lot at stake with both of them.”
“How’s that?”
“You heard of Charlie McQueen?”
“Jeez, big fish, better keep this one quiet. How many Oscars has he won? Charlie’s an absolute legend, I’m impressed.”
“Not so fast, it’s not Charlie McQueen who’s on his way here right now but Charlie’s daughter, Sarah-Jane.”
“Sarah-Jane McQueen? Better do some crash research on this one, it doesn’t ring any bells at all, Helen.”
“That’s the whole point. Sarah-Jane, from what I’ve been told has been forged in the classic mould of invisible offspring of famous parents. High aspirations, low on talent. Her mother, Charlie’s second wife, committed suicide a long time ago when Sarah-Jane was very young. Charlie quickly remarried and there was absolute venom between Sarah-Jane and the step-mother from day one. If you wanted to produce a screwed up kid, I guess this is how you would do it. Sarah-Jane’s had some sort of meltdown – I mean like meltdown number whatever – and Charlie wants to keep her out of the LA scene, completely. Seems we’ve been recommended, highly recommended.”
“And, Helen. I feel there’s an ‘and’ coming on.”
“You’re right there. And we’ve a fallout from that new reality television programme Britain’s Got Issues.”
“What’s that about?” David asked innocently. “I don’t watch television much, as you know.”
“Britain’s Got Issues is sort of like a combination of Embarrassing Bodies and The Hunger Games. You don’t get it, do you? OK, each contestant stays in a house and the public get to know their issues in detail and then they vote to keep in their favourite until it’s last man standing. It’s quite simple. In BGI each contestant has an issue; a physical or mental issue and the winner gets to have the best treatment in the world to sort the ‘issue’ out. There’s someone with hair problems, we’ve got the boob job that’s gone wrong, there’s a really weird but talented OCD guy in there, a young girl who thinks she’s got deformed flabia – she’ll make the final, that’s for sure. And then there’s our very own Sean Beanie who’s about to become a guest at The Place, paid for by the way by an anonymous sponsor. It’s a great game.”
David waited for the punch line but Helen was having fun.
“Yeah, Helen – but what is Sean Beanie’s issue?”
“Sean Beanie is the most handsome young man you’ve ever seen. He’s also a very talented singer, dancer, actor, you know – entertainer. But here it is – he’s chronically shy and gets crushing stage fright every time he has to perform.” Helen smiled. “Not only that, the other housemates have sort of ganged up on Sean and he’s had a bit of nervous meltdown. The producers want him to spend a few days at The Place not because they’ve any expectation we’ll sort him out – that’s for the next series – we’re just supposed to get him back on his feet, you know, back in the ring. We’ve three days otherwise he’s out of the competition. Might be a full breakdown but I guess Sean’s just exhausted and needs some TLC.”
David sighed. “How young is Sean?”
“Seventeen. I know, we’ll need to talk to our insurers about this one. But, he does need The Place, David, he really needs it, well, according to the producers of BGI. To them, The Place is like some sort of mental health farm, a place of peace and tranquillity, a sort of urban paradise.”
“Funny that… I mean if you work in paradise, where do you go on holiday?”
“I think you need what we tell all our guests they need.”
“That’ll be a few beers, a long holiday and Gootsy up my arse, Helen?”
“No, David. That’ll be no beers at all and a good night’s sleep. You’re tired. Get some rest and I’ll wake you later, a lot later.”
“You’re right, thanks. You seem always to take other people’s problems on board without it having any impact on you Helen. Sometimes their pain sort of spills onto me, you know what I mean?”
Helen looked closely into David’s tired eyes. “You know it took you a long time to feel empathy. I guess that only began when you became a father. It’s good that you share the pain. Maybe I’m just a tough old bird underneath it all.”
“You may be a tough old bird but you’ve got a heart of gold. ‘Night, Helen, I’m pooped.”
Helen tucked David into bed like a nurse with a patient. “Night, David, I’ll join you in a minute.”
“By the way. If I told you Mark Bolland had sex with a male member of the House of Windsor, in a private toilet in Buckingham Palace, who do you think it would be?”
Helen stopped brushing her hair, stared into the dressing table mirror and paused, momentarily. “Hmmm, tough one. Get some sleep. You’ll need all the sleep you can get. Isn’t the Sunday News running with the story this weekend?”
David lifted his tired head. “Oh yes, I had almost forgotten about that little challenge. Que sera, sera, as Doris Day would say.”
***
“My Katie, you’re up bright and early.”
“Well, Helen I just thought I’d take my chances and see if you were around. Here you are. This is David’s office isn’t it?”
“Sure is. Sit down, Katie, what’s the matter?”
“I’m ready to leave, Helen. Listen there’s nothing wrong. I should have left by now, really. It’s nothing to do with the texts I’ve been getting and I know you’ve been getting from Steve; it’s just that I’m ready. I’ve had a great time. I don’t want a leaving party thing – you know the whole Graduation Ceremony number, well, not right now. I do want that Helen – I do – but not now, not today. Sometime later. I’m sure you understand, Helen. I’ve already said goodbye to Mandy.”
Helen had seen this coming and in her own way was relieved to hear the words from Katie, who was ready to leave, that much was obvious. Helen had seen it so many times before.
“Katie, Katie Windsor. Let me tell you Katie that you are a truly talented actress. I admire you, I really do. Don’t get sidetracked by other people, Katie. Show them how strong you are.”
Katie gave Helen a hug and held on to her for some time. “I know I am, Helen, thank you. Sometimes I just need someone to remind me.”
***
“OK, David, JC, are we up for this?” Helen made it sound as if the unholy Trinity was about to set sail round the world or charge into battle. “We’ve back to back screenings with two very live wires. We need to be ‘specially careful with Sean Beanie on account of his age. Sarah-Jane McQueen is going to be a real handful, so let’s be very alert.”
David’s mobile buzzed and soon enough a sheepish knock was heard on the door of David’s office.
JC was quite taken aback at to how young Sean Beanie looked, or perhaps JC was a bit too used to being the youngest person in the room.
Helen immediately went over to embrace the talented singer and dancer who by all accounts had cracked up with the pressure of impending new found fame and had a serious meltdown.
“Sean, please sit down, let us introduce ourselves.” Helen could see that Sean had no pretentions or airs or graces; in fact he had the appearance of a school boy who had been invited into the teachers’ room.
As the four of them settled in to their well established places it was obvious Sean was having trouble even keeping his hands steady.
“Now, Sean. The first thing is that we’re on your side; we’re not here to cure you of anything or to change you. You understand that?”
Sean looked at the floor and spoke softly. “Yes, doctor, I understand.”
“Sean, Sean look at me. Call me Helen, please. This is not a hospital. Some people call us a rehab place but that’s just a modern sort of reference for a place where you can feel free to learn about yourself, grow more confident, maybe just understand yourself a bit better. Does that make sense?”
Sean tried hard to look Helen in the eyes but could only manage a brief fleeting glance before his eyes rested on the floor. “I think so, Helen.”
Helen and David looked towards JC for the next move.
“Hi, Sean. I’ve seen a couple of clips of you on YouTube. You’re quite a talent, Sean. Better than Glee.” JC had been doing some research on this kid.
Sean smiled. “You’re into Glee? Cool.”
“I’m their biggest fan, Sean. They sing, they dance, they act – it’s something else. I get it, Sean, I love it.” JC was beginning to convince himself.
JC leaned towards Sean and tried hard to make eye contact. “Sean, I’ve heard from the management what happened. Please believe me – we’ve seen this before, it’s OK. The reason why you’ve been asked to come here is because we don’t pile you full of drugs of any kind, that’s the last thing we’d do. What happens here – and I know it’s going to sound a bit weird – is that we encourage you to experience life, other people, ‘encounters’ as we call it. But look, I guess we just wanted to say ‘hi’ and introduce ourselves. I’m going to show you around The Place, introduce you to the other guests, show you your room, just settle you in and then we’ll be meeting up for a session later.” JC looked at David and Helen who nodded in approval.
“Session? What do you mean?” Sean sounded very apprehensive.