There had been a moment — Moon was lapping between her legs and her mind was running free — when she’d projected herself into the future and looked back. She saw that these people, like the teachers and children at her first school — all pinches, curses, threats and boisterous power — were in retrospect just pathetic or ordinary, and nothing to be afraid of. She knew, at that moment, that she had already left.
When she thought of what she’d been through she didn’t know how she hadn’t gone mad. Her own strength surprised her. How much more of it might she have?
15
Feather rose early, meditated restlessly, and started out with a rucksack and stick. Why was she going? It was ridiculous for a pacifist to be present at such an event. But she was curious. She thought of Rocco. He had suffered; he understood something about life; he liked people. There was no cruelty in him; yet he fucked everyone up. And the person he made suffer the most was himself.
She stopped on the way to eat and drink; she washed in a rain-filled stream. For a change the air was moist. She wondered why this journey wasn’t more enjoyable and when she sat and thought about it she realised she was tired of being alone; it was time to find a lover, particularly with winter on its way.
The others drove as far as they could and then walked up the chalk downs, until they could see the town in the distance, and the sea beyond.
She was walking up the Rim when a car approached. It was Karen, who was distressed. But Feather didn’t want a lift.
She walked to the very top, a flat area with a pagan pedestal. The first thing she saw was Vance unpacking new running shoes. He wore sweatbands around his head and wrists, a singlet and a pair of shorts. Rocco hadn’t given a thought to what he would wear, and had turned up in his ordinary clothes. He noticed that Bodger had arrived, but refused to acknowledge him.
Teapot rushed over to Vance. ‘Please, Mr Vance, Rocco’s terrified. He’s shaking all over. Don’t hurt him. He’s had some Mellow Wednesday. You can’t beat up a man in that condition.’
‘I’ll teach him a lesson,’ said Vance, hawking and spitting. ‘After the beating he’ll be an improved person.’
‘Look at him.’
Vance glanced over at Rocco and guffawed. ‘He’s disgusting, it’s true. But that doesn’t change anything.’
Teapot said, ‘And he’s upset.’
‘So?’
Bodger was standing nearby with his doctor’s bag. ‘What about?’
‘He saw his girlfriend being fucked — last night.’
‘Who by?’
Teapot leaned towards them. ‘Moon.’
Bodger went pale.
Across the way, practising his kicks and trying to make himself usefully mad, Rocco twisted his ankle. Teapot helped him up, but Rocco could barely walk and, when everyone was ready, Teapot had to cart him to the fighting place. Rocco stood there on one foot, breathing laboriously.
Karen stood a few feet away, tugging at her hair. She was watching her husband but seemed, also, to be thinking about something else.
Vance was dancing around and when he turned away to give Karen the thumbs up, Rocco, windmilling an arm as he’d seen guitarists do, took a tremendous swing at him, which missed. Then he hobbled towards Vance and attempted a flying kick.
Rocco collapsed and lay there shouting, ‘Beat me, Burger Queen. Kick my head in. Kick, kick, kick!’
‘Get up. I’m not ready yet. Get up, I said!’
Vance reached out a hand to him, and Rocco got up. Then he tried, once more, to attack Vance who danced around him until, taking aim, he landed a nice punch in the centre of Rocco’s face. Rocco fell down and Vance bestrode him, picking up his arm and bending it back over his knee. Rocco refused even to whimper but his face was screaming.
Bodger, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, ‘Don’t, don’t …’
‘A fight’s a fight, ain’t it?’ said Vance.
‘Please, Vance, you’re just making more work for me.’
‘Kill me, kill me, Queen,’ begged Rocco.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Vance. ‘I’m on my way.’
Suddenly there was a sound from the bushes. Feather, naked but covered in dirt and mud, rushed screeching into the space and began to dance. Vance stared at her, as they all did, but decided to take no notice — until Feather took up a position in front of him and held up her hands.
‘I’m breaking my fingers,’ she said.
Vance continued his bending work.
Feather snapped her little finger and waved it at everyone.
‘Now the next,’ she said. ‘And the next.’
‘No, no, no!’ said Bodger.
‘What the hell is going on?’ cried Vance. ‘Get her out of here!’
Bodger rushed into the centre of the fight and threw himself on Vance.
Rocco had thought, somehow, that he would never get home again and had no idea that he’d be so glad to be back. The books, records and pictures in his house and the light outside seemed new to him. He thought he might read, listen to music and then go and look at the sea. Vance had been right, the fight had done him good.
Lisa, pale and thin, didn’t understand why he was being so gentle. Somehow she had thought he would never come back. She was prepared for that. But he had returned.
He stroked her face and hair, looked into her eyes and said, ‘I’ve only got you.’
After, they sat in the garden.
16
It had been raining. A strong sea was running. It was early evening when Bodger, Feather and Vance came up the lane past Lisa and Rocco’s house. Bodger carried a couple of bottles of wine and Feather some other provisions. They were on their way to her place. She had arranged to massage both Bodger and Vance, but now her right hand was bandaged. All day Vance had been fussing around her, both contrite and annoyed, and kept touching her reassuringly, as if to massage her.
‘I’m not apologising to them,’ said Vance.
‘I wonder what they’re doing,’ said Feather. ‘Stop for a minute.’
‘Just for a second,’ said Bodger.
They all looked over the hedge.
‘Well, well.’ Vance said. ‘Who would have believed it?’
Rocco had dragged a couple of suitcases outside and was attempting to throw the contents — papers and notebooks — onto a shambolic bonfire. As the papers caught fire, the wind blew them across the garden. In the doorway Lisa, with a cardigan thrown over her shoulders, was folding her clothes and placing them in a pile. As they worked, she and Rocco chatted to one another and laughed.
‘It’s true,’ said Feather.
Bodger turned to Vance. ‘You’re a bloody fucking fool.’
Vance said, ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘This didn’t have to happen!’
Feather said, ‘Go and tell them.’
‘It’s too late,’ Vance said.
‘Tell me if this pleases you!’ Bodger cried. ‘Be glad then — and dance!’
‘Bodger, they’ve been wanting to get out for weeks. And I’m paying for it.’ Vance added, ‘It’s amazing, he’s actually doing something. And we’re left behind.’
He turned and saw Moon scurrying up the lane, calling out, ‘I’m not too late, am I?’
‘You’re always late, you little shite. Who’s minding the shop?’
‘Vance, please,’ said Moon. ‘I’ve shut it for a few minutes.’
‘Get back there and open up — before I open you up!’
Moon looked over the hedge. Vance was about to grab him when Feather gave him a look; Vance noticed that Moon was crying under his shades.