by Adrian Laing
Gootsy looked at Sean and Sarah-Jane. “And you two, do you have an angel?”
Sean shook his head as if he was embarrassed not to be able to share with the group. “I haven’t had anyone close to me die yet. Maybe that’s it.”
“Maybe it is, Sean, maybe you’re right.” Gootsy and the group tried not to look at Sarah-Jane but it was hard not to, given it was clearly her turn to have a say.
Sarah-Jane stared into space and without warning broke down into a flood of tears; even by the standards of The Place this was a torrential downpour.
Slowly Sarah-Jane seemed to pull herself together. “That’s so sad, so sad. You know what made me cry – I don’t often cry you know – but you know what it is, it’s not that I don’t believe in angels, I do. It’s just that they don’t believe in me. I’m not worth it, I guess.” The tears flowed again and the group spontaneously surrounded Sarah-Jane and hugged her, tightly.
Mark lifted Sarah-Jane’s quivering chin with a finger and looked into her eyes.
“Do you know what, Sarah-Jane? You can share my angel if you want. I know she’d like you, how about that?”
Sarah-Jane hugged Mark and cried on his shoulder. “Oh, Mark, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Can I? Thank you. That’s so nice. She won’t mind will she?”
“No she won’t mind. Her name’s Doris by the way.”
“Doris. I like that.” Sarah-Jane seemed so genuinely happy, even Sean was wiping away the tears.
Davy looked quite touched but couldn’t help himself thinking ahead and tried, discreetly to whisper in Mark’s ear. “‘The Singer and his Angel’, I like that one Mark, I mean that’s got to be good. I could write a whole chapter about that one. Do we have to stick with Doris, you know maybe we could change it to Dorian or maybe Darius? OK, I get the vibes, brother, later.”
28
David and Helen were in bed together, it was quite early in the morning, and they both knew the other was awake.
“You know it’s great when it’s kind of quiet; it’s just how I like it, really.” David was in a great mood and it showed. “I mean we’ve only got four full-time guests but it feels just right. What we got in store for today? Remind me. It’s Saturday, isn’t it? I love Saturdays.”
“You better get your skates on David or your swimming kit more like it. We’re off to the mixed bathing pond. The water won’t be too cold, there’s hardly anyone around early in the morning, should be great.”
“It will be great. Who you taking?”
“Well, Sarah-Jane for sure. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m telling you, she’s coming. Mark and Davy and Sean – everyone, I hope.”
“Not sure Davy will come, he’s like a cat when it comes to water. I mean he just can’t see the point of getting cold and wet.”
“Can you try and persuade him? It’s good if we can get them all doing something together.”
“OK, I’ll try. Just please don’t say ‘what can go wrong’; it’s too much like tempting fate, I’m hoping for a nice, quiet, enjoyable day and to share a quiet Movie Therapy experience with Mark Bolland and Davy Crockett, with maybe one or two light beers. Just a perfect day.”
***
“But it will be fun, Sarah-Jane, I promise you.” Helen was surprised at the level of resistance Sarah-Jane was putting up to the idea of a quick dip in the mixed bathing pond on Hampstead Heath, but wasn’t going to give up easily.
“I don’t know. Everyone thinks we spend half our lives around swimming pools in LA, but it’s not my sort of thing, Helen, to be honest.”
“Listen Sarah-Jane, it’s a beautiful day. Hardly anyone will be there, I promise you. I’ll be there, and so will JC, Mark, Davy and Sean. Why don’t you just come with us, take a costume and see how you feel when you get there?”
“JC’s going?” Sarah-Jane’s eyes brightened.
“Why, of course JC’s going. He doesn’t spend all day jogging around the Heath, you know.”
“Well, OK, but no promises.”
Helen had a flashback to the time when Tracy Howler jumped in the men’s pond without being able to swim and a thought crossed her mind.
“That’s great Sarah-Jane, thank you. Come on, let’s get ready.”
***
“Well at least Mark had a great time. I mean considering his age and what he’s put his body through over the last half century, he’s amazingly fit and agile. He reminds me of that Iggy Pop guy. Strange isn’t it how some people can abuse their bodies for years and years and seem almost to come out stronger for it while others just, you know, fade away or er… drop dead. I wish I knew the secret to that one.”
JC was sounding a bit too smug for Helen. “JC, to tell you the truth I’m more concerned about Sarah-Jane. Tell me again, what actually happened?”
“OK Helen, I’m not sure if it was a big deal or not. You remember, we get there and before we know it Mark is leaping off the diving board like a little kid, goading Davy to join in.”
“Yes, JC of course I remember that bit, but what happened between you and Sarah-Jane?”
“Nothing happened Helen, as such. I went back in the open changing area and to nip to the loo and Sarah-Jane was sitting on her own. She looked a bit frightened more than spaced out, so I sat down and we had a little chat.”
“What exactly did she say, JC?” Helen obviously felt that JC was leaving something out and was determined to get the whole story. JC paused as if he was trying to remember the precise words used by Sarah-Jane. “I sat beside her and asked if everything was OK, that’s all. All she said to me was ‘I’m not ready’, that was it. She wasn’t crying or anything, that was it – ‘I’m not ready’.”
Helen looked sternly at JC as if she wasn’t totally convinced but then seemed to change her mind. “OK, JC, thanks. Look, I’m sorry if I came across as if I didn’t believe you, I do. It’s just that I feel I’m at a very delicate stage with Sarah-Jane and what she said is very important.”
“That’s OK. You seem very worried about her Helen.”
“I am, JC. You know I shouldn’t really look at Sarah-Jane this way but she is a real challenge to me – in fact a challenge to everything I believe in.”
“And,” added JC, “there’s the dad, Charlie McQueen in the background, I guess that’s added pressure you don’t need. The point is Helen, as you always say, it’s about what we’re going to do next; that’s all.”
Helen took a deep, heartfelt sigh. “You’re right, JC. You know I think we need to lighten things up a bit for Sarah-Jane. Let’s have an impromptu Movie Therapy night. I can sit through with Sarah-Jane, you can talk with Sean and I’m sure David will enjoy having a couple of beers with Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
“Now that’s sounds like a good idea, Helen. What you got in mind? I think Davy and Mark could do with The Defiant Ones – you remember Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier on a chain gang escape story, handcuffed together on the run, being chased by the dogs and everything.”
“JC, those two are already playing out the sequel to that one. I think we should be a bit more creative than The Defiant Ones. I mean that would be like giving you and Sean Loneliness of a Long Distance Runner. I know what they need. It’s not about Davy, but Davy’s mother.” A broad mischievous smile came over Helen’s face. “And I’ve got an idea for you and Sean.”
“OK, Helen. I got the point. I trust you to come up with something. And what about you and Sarah-Jane? I guess Bambi would be too heavy for her, now there’s an irony for you.”
Helen wanted to be cross with JC but couldn’t hide a little smile. “You’re right on that score, JC. I’ve got an hour or so to work that one out, we’ll see over breakfast whether I was right or not. And remember we’ve got David’s Tai Chi Master arriving early, he’ll be joining us for breakfast and then taking a session.”
“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten
about Sagi, Sagi No Sun. Dad said whatever you so, don’t call him saggy, apparently from what dad told me, he doesn’t like being called saggy, not with his pedigree.”
***
“I do like these breakfast sessions, perhaps we should do them more often,” said Helen. The makeshift breakfast table was covered with an array of fresh fruit, pastries and chilled drinks, coffee and tea; the guests slowly began to fill their plates and settle down to a discussion of the films they watched the night before.
“OK, before we… tuck in. David and JC are busy right now and won’t be joining us, but let me introduce Sagi No Sun.” Helen didn’t need to point out which one was Sagi No Sun as there was only one bald-headed, saggy-eyed, martial artist-looking guy dressed in a white tracksuit sitting around the table.
Sagi No Sun placed his hands together in front of his shining face and bowed his head to each guest in turn. Mark, Davy, Sarah-Jane and Sean in return awkwardly said ‘hi’ in their own way and carried on concentrating on the food.
“So, Davy, what did you make of the film you watched? Helen had been up for some time and was keen to have a good debate.
“Not what I was expecting? After the last time I guessed it would be a surprise package, Helen. But man that film was something else. Madame Butterfly, what a choice. Yeah, if you wanna know if it got me, yeah it got me. Can’t say I understood all of it. But there’s that bit where the lady is singing about how her man is gonna come back – and like we know he ain’t coming. Man, it was so sad. I guess I’ll need to dig into his stuff a bit more, but those melodies, how can I have missed Puccini all my life? How can you know someone’s music but not know the guy? Jeez, it makes me think of what else I don’t know.” Davy looked into space as if he had been through some form of dramatic experience.
“Kept him off the book project for an evening, Helen, thanks for that. I guessed City of Angels would be too obvious, but Madame Butterfly was inspired. You’d be surprised how many of our songs come from Puccini.” Mark looked and sounded far more alert than the others expected.
Sarah-Jane looked puzzled. It just didn’t seem right to be having a healthy breakfast with a rock star talking about Puccini. “I can’t believe what you just said. Your music comes from Puccini? I wouldn’t have guessed that, Mark Bolland. Like which songs?”
Mark looked at Sarah-Jane with an unnerving stare. “Sarah-Jane. Where does any of our stuff come from? We sit down and we jam around and we joke and the rest. At some point a line or a riff sort of takes over, some lyrics get thrown in, we know that we’re on to something and we roll with it. We just you know sort of tune in, the same way Puccini must have done. It’s just like opening your mind to the cosmos and letting the vibes flow through you, and you pick it up as best you can.” Mark trailed off not sure whether he was being taken seriously or not.
“I’m with you brother, I get it.” Davy was convinced. “That’s what it was like when we laid down ‘Boogie Yer Woogie’ in ten minutes; classic it was and is and will be, ‘Boogie Yer Woogie’.”
Sarah-Jane wasn’t going to get sidetracked by ‘Boogie Yer Woogie’ and ignored Davy completely. “Yeah, well OK, Mark. But I don’t get the Puccini bit, that’s all.” Sarah-Jane sounded as if she was backtracking, realising who was talking to.
“I guess you never will, Sarah-Jane,” said Mark sadly.
Helen thought the conversation was going rather well. “And, Sean. You’re very quiet. Come on, what did you and JC watch?” Helen knew that Sean would say nothing at all if he could get away with it.
“Er, we saw that 300 movie. I’d seen it before Helen but it was even better the second time,” said Sean.
“You got to see one of the best ass-kicking films ever and we was watching Madame Butterfly?” Davy said trying badly to feign jealousy.
“What did it say to you, Sean?” asked Helen.
“What did it say to me, Helen? Not sure what you mean. It’s about death and honour I guess.”
Sagi No Sun smiled the tiniest of smiles, which didn’t go unnoticed.
“Death, honour and fearlessness, Sean, don’t you think? Didn’t it strike you that the Spartans looked forward to a glorious death and that there was never a sign of fear?” Helen wasn’t going to let Sean off easily this morning.
“I suppose so Helen,” said Sean confidently. “But maybe they had nothing to live for except a good death, I mean that was their life.”
“Yeah, brother you got it, that’s it. You’re there Sean. And I didn’t see no black dudes among them Spartans. They would have taken one look at me said ‘Hey this brother’s been in the oven too long’ and thrown me away into the reject pile and asked a few questions of the mama, you know what I’m saying?”
Sarah-Jane had a thought. “It’s funny you should say that Davy. I was thinking, if your dad left you before you were born, and you’ve never met him or even seen him, how do you know he’s black? I mean maybe your dad is a white guy.”
Davy spat out his mini-croissant, almost hitting Sagi No Sun square in the face. But true to expectations, he moved ever so slightly to his left and the offending half-chewed pastry flew past him.
Mark couldn’t help howl with laughter and Sean went bright red as if he was going to burst trying to stop himself lapsing into a serious attack of the giggles.
“How do I know my papa ain’t white?” Davy stood up and stared at Sarah-Jane with a real menace in his voice, but a moment or two later sat down and seemed to visibly control himself. “Like one minute ago we’re having a talk about music and Puccini and then all of a sudden we’re talking about my papa being a white dude. Hey lady, you’re gifted, that’s what I think. But you know what, just for you lady, I’ll have a little think about that one and I’ll let you know, like later, about my papa. So I’ll let that one go ‘cause I know you ain’t well and…”
Helen decided some diplomatic intervention was in order. “Can we get back to the movies? Sarah-Jane, tell them about our movie.”
Sarah-Jane was happy for Helen to change the subject and looked all romantic. “Oh we watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, now there’s a sad movie for you.” As if simply to emphasize her point Sarah-Jane started to sing ever so softly and sweetly the opening lines of ‘Moon River’, which the group respectfully listened to until Sarah-Jane ran out of lyrics and began sobbing gently.
Helen was quite relaxed about Sarah-Jane’s crying which, by the standards of The Place, was at the milder end of the fairly routine breakfast breakdowns but Mark couldn’t ignore her distress.
“See what you’ve done Davy, you’ve only gone and upset the lady.”
Davy realised that he was going to come out the worst of this and decided it was his turn to change the subject. “I don’t want to upset you girl, I’m not that type of brother Sarah-Jane. Listen, let me tell you about this book Mark and I are putting together.”
Mark buried his head in his hands and looked sternly at Davy, “Not now brother. Might not be the right time.”
Helen was keen to hear Davy out. “No, go on Davy, tell us how the book’s coming along.”
Davy’s eyes sparkled and he was off. “We’re doing great; we’ve got a few stories going now. The new story is the ‘The Dog and the Bitch’ about a dog and a bitch. The bitch loves the dog and wants to stay together forever and ever but the dog keeps sneaking round the corner with other bitches, so the bitch has a go at the dog and demands like exclusivity, I mean fidelity, and the dog refuses and storms off and leaves the bitch for a night of freedom and dies that very night in a stupid bar brawl. It’s a short and sweet fable, man, Aesop would be proud. And you know what caused the fight? A bone. Ain’t that a classic?”
Sarah-Jane looked confused. “How does a dog end up in a bar?”
“It’s a story, Sarah-Jane; like a fable.” Davy hadn’t thought about how a dog might end up in a bar.
“OK, I get it, I t
hink.” Sarah-Jane tried to sound interested. “Like you two role play and sort of brainstorm these ideas?”
“Yeah, that’s the way we do it; it works for us.” Davy sounded very pleased with himself.
“So, like which one plays the dog and which one plays the bitch?” Sarah-Jane had a smirky grin and Sean tried to pretend to cough but in truth he was stifling another attack of the giggles.
“Man, you are up for it this morning girl.” Davy felt he was being pushed and had to try hard to keep his cool.
“Listen, Davy. I’m here because I’ve got more problems than you lot put together. I’m not trying to upset or annoy you. I guess it’s my way of playing. I’m sorry.”
Sarah-Jane got out of her seat and went over and gave Davy a little hug and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m a pain in the ass, Davy, sorry.”
Sarah-Jane went back to her seat and poured herself a fresh glass of orange juice. “I’ve got a little story for you Davy. I remember Aesop’s Fables. OK, here’s one for you and Mark. It’s like this: it’s about a little rich white girl and a slave, a black slave, that’s it ‘The White Girl and the Slave’. The white girl is a spoiled brat and gets everything she wants, except love and friendship. She’s not allowed any friends because she’s always unwell. So, the only person she has to talk to is the slave and he treats her like a real friend but she treats him real bad because he’s a slave. One day the little girl breaks one of her daddy’s favourite things – a real expensive vase – and the girl blames the slave and the master beats the slave to death and then the girl has no friends at all.”