The door to her flat was down a flight of stone steps. You could smell the whiff of damp as you walked in, despite the scented candles and bowls of potpourri dotted about. As soon as she opened the inner door, a scrap of brown fur hurled itself against our legs, yapping hysterically. It was a creature of exceptional ugliness, with short legs, a blunt nose, one eye bigger than the other and a coat the texture of a toilet brush. I felt an urge to kick it, but I controlled myself.
‘Say hello to Berthold, Monty,’ said Eustachia.
‘Yah! Yah! Yah!’ said the dog.
I continued to control myself. ‘He’s adorable,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m glad you think so, Berthold. I was afraid you wouldn’t like him. You can see why I couldn’t bear the thought of having him put down.’
‘Mmm. You’re a goddess of salvation.’
I felt a sharp pricking in my ankles. Monty’s teeth? Monty’s fleas? Or my imagination?
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked.
My heart sank. What I had in mind was a shot of whisky, or at least a glass of wine — even Lidl sweet sherry would do. Despite the earlier promise of the George Clooney moment, I had a sudden fear that this relationship was doomed.
‘Have you got any …?’
‘I don’t usually keep alcohol in the flat, because of my diet. Not having it means I’m not tempted. Not by that, anyway.’
Temptation. My heart did a little fish-flip. ‘I get it. A cup of tea would be great.’
‘I’ve got redbush, if you prefer?’
‘No, please! Nothing healthy!’
Despite the lack of alcohol, we somehow made it to the bedroom. I guess she had to be more proactive, to make up for the all-round sobriety. Monty, shut outside, whimpered and scratched piteously at the door. His distress brought back a sudden terrible flash of memory of my first day at school, the closing clunk of the heavy safety-glass door; Mother out of reach on the other side. Love, comfort, kindness, protection — all on the other side. I cried and banged my little fists on the door, but by the time someone came to open it, she had gone. The teacher took my hand and led me to meet my new classmates. ‘Don’t be a crybaby. That’s enough blubbing. You’re a big boy now.’ At that moment, I had been cast out from Eden.
Such a desolate flashback would be enough to put anyone off his stride, and I’m sorry to say it put me off mine. That and the baleful stare of the row of teddies lined up on the bookshelf by her bed. The beast had become a mouse. Oh dear. As George Clooney must surely know, performing onstage is not the same as performing in bed. Quick as a flash, Eustachia ducked down under the duvet and popped him in her mouth. He cheered up a bit, but then the mousiness crept back.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s been a stressful day.’
‘Just a cuddle would be fine,’ she said.
I pressed her against me, and so she fell asleep in my arms with her coppery hair, loosed from its inane ponytail, spreading like autumn across my chest; but I lay awake for a long time listening to the unfamiliar sounds of people and cars passing close to our basement window and the occasional growling of Monty outside the bedroom door, wondering where the current of life was bearing my drifting boat.
Sometime in the small hours, when I made my nocturnal visit to the bathroom, Monty was lying in wait for me, with a strategic sense worthy of his namesake, the hero of El Alamein.
‘Grrr!’ I heard his snarl in the darkness, but before I could locate him he pounced at my bare ankles. His teeth, though small, were very sharp. Thus I too acquired purple stigmata, though in my case human kindness had nothing to do with it.
Worse, I’d somehow managed to leave the door slightly open and the mongrel, smelling his mistress’s bouquet, leaped on to the bed and started to hump her slumbering form through the bedclothes. At this point my self-control snapped, and I’m ashamed to admit I kicked my rival out into the hall.
He yelped, and Eustachia moaned in her sleep.
‘Don’t worry, Stacey,’ I murmured. ‘Everything’s all right. I’m here to protect you.’ My sense of manhood restored, I drew her close. And in a while, groping for trouts in a peculiar river, we made the beast with two backs. My ship entered her harbour. I found out countries in her. I spent my manly marrow, pouring my treasure into her lap. At last, Cupid’s fiery shaft was quenched.
I drifted off into a rounded sleep.
Berthold: Teddies
‘Brrrrrr!’ A ghastly clamour of siren bells ripped my slumber asunder. It seemed as though I had only been asleep for a moment.
Eustachia jumped up, banged her fist on the alarm clock, then hurtled out of bed and gathered her scattered clothing from the floor. ‘My! I’m going to be late for work!’
After a night like that, what one needs most in the morning is a strong cup of coffee. But I was out of luck.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she called from the kitchen.
‘Have you any …?’ I started to croak weakly, but I already knew what the answer would be.
‘Help yourself to toast! Just pull the door behind you when you leave! Don’t worry about Monty — his walker will pick him up later!’
She placed a cup of weak tea down on the bedside table and touched my bare shoulder with her hand.
‘Berthold …!’ Whatever it was she meant to say, she didn’t say it.
‘Stacey …!’ I didn’t say it either.
I squeezed her hand and let her go, and fished out the tea bag with my fingers.
The teddies at the side of the bed watched me jealously, as they must have watched over her and loved her through her unhappy childhood; as nobody had loved her since. Until now. An unfamiliar tremor quickened in my chest. I was the man who would cherish and protect her, whose love would oust the teddies. I leaped out of bed to share my insight with her, but I could already hear the sound of her car firing up, and I could see from the desolate look in Monty’s eyes as the car puttered away down the street that he was in love with her too. I felt tempted to kick him again, but I controlled myself.
I arrived back at Madeley Court to a scene of unspeakable desolation. Six mature trees had been felled, their leaves spilled like green blood over the pavement. Immature cherries hung in green clusters that would never ripen into scarlet. The cherry grove was now a cherry grave. The two chainsaw guys were busily chopping up the limbs and stacking them in neat piles. Little groups of people came by to watch, and others watched from the balconies of their flats. The kid who had attacked Flossie was taking pictures on his mobile. I wondered where Violet was, who had blazed like a comet briefly across my path and had now curved off on a different trajectory.
In a way, I was glad she wasn’t here. It would have broken her heart.
Violet: Karibu
The Nairobi night is warm, perfumed and full of stars so bright and close you almost feel you can reach up your hand and pluck them out of the sky. You only have to walk a few metres away from the low airport buildings to feel its immensity pressing down on you. Violet waits in the taxi queue, letting the smells and sounds of home flood in on her.
‘Langata,’ she tells the driver. ‘Kalobot Road.’
At her grandmother’s house there is a whole reception party waiting for her with hugs, tears and fizzy drinks.
‘Karibu! Karibu mpenzi! Ilikuwaje safari?’
All seven cousins are there and nine children, including three gorgeous babies she hasn’t seen before. The din of adults chattering, babies yelling, kids demanding attention, singing, clapping and the television on full blast in the background is overwhelming. She sits on a wooden chair and gulps down the 7 Up Lynette pours for her, though what she really wants is a cup of milky coffee and her bed.