Are You Listening, Rabbi Löw

  ‘Sir excuse me putting on the light, but there is a person at the door enquiring after you, who gives her name as Louella.’

  ‘O jeez Jorricks. Christ show her in. I meant to tell you she was coming but I fell asleep. Put some of that champagne we brought back from the hospital in a bucket. And we’ll have a little smoked salmon on the side.’

  ‘Very good sir.’

  Louella stopping in the drawing room doorway in a black sweater and string of pearls. Her long tapering legs in her snug satin blue slacks. A shy uncertain smile on her face as she pushes back the sleeves of her sweater. That strip of flesh of her ankle showing under a stocking and between the cuff of trouser and her shoe. Her hair combed slanting over one eye.

  ‘Hey honey. You got here.’

  ‘Yes. I got here.’

  Louella stepping in, glancing around the room. A lamp alight in the corner and the fire glowing a pink light on the walls. Schultz attempting to get up from the armchair, suddenly tensing and grimacing in pain.

  ‘O please don’t get up Sigmund.’

  ‘Jesus maybe I won’t. Christ maybe I can’t. But honey come in. Come in. Sit down. Right over there. Get toasty by the fire.’

  ‘It’s nice and warm in here. And it looks as if nothing has happened.’

  ‘We had the painters and carpenters over from the theatre. They did some beautiful job fixing up and cleaning everywhere. Hey what can I get Jorricks to get you. We’ll have a little champagne. Is that all right.’

  ‘That would be fine.’

  ‘O jesus honey it’s really good to see you. How’s Al.’

  ‘You really don’t have to ask about Al you know.’

  ‘But I’d like to know.’

  ‘They say his condition is stabilized whatever that means. He wants me to go to California to be with him. At least there we’re free of all his awful past wives. And what about you. How are you. What happened to you.’

  ‘Jeez honey, you know right at this exact time I’d like not to get into the whole fickle chain of circumstances that led to the complicated story. It was something that happened between my legs. Suffice to say sort of like a break in a vulnerable place sort of thing. Hey christ you look really great.’

  ‘Thank you. Gosh this house is big. I’d forgotten how elegantly beautiful Belgravia is.’

  ‘Yeah honey, it’s pretty nice around here. Just a handful of very private people. We even have got a couple of nice old pubs down the mews over there.’

  ‘I know. I have been in one. And whenever I’ve walked down this street I’ve always thought it one of the most pleasant streets in all of London.’

  ‘Honey, when you go past number four remember the welcome mat is always out.’

  Another squall sending hailstones sprinkling the drawing room window panes. Jorricks wheeling in a table under a white tablecloth. Two plates of sliced smoked salmon in a rosette, and a wooden bucket of champagne and two gleaming tulip glasses.

  ‘Shall I open the champagne now sir or leave it a moment further to chill.’

  ‘That’s all right Jorricks, we’ll have a little sip now.’

  Jorricks undoing the wine cap and wrapping the bottle in a towel and gently twisting out the cork with a soft pop. Alternately filling the glasses and handing the first one full to Louella with a smile. Holy jeez what’s this. The first time Jorricks has ever smiled at a woman come into this house. Christ he’s even fussing over her opening her napkin across her lap. Fuck a duck. Will wonders and surprises never cease. Here I am waiting tense on tenterhooks to get him fast out of the room so as not to throw a pall over proceedings and he’s dancing solicitous attendance all over her. Christ and she fucking loves it like a purring cat. Holy shit that’s something anyway, if she doesn’t want to come live with me she at least might want to come and be waited on by my butler.

  ‘I’ll draw the curtains and will that be all sir.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s swell Jorricks. Thanks.’

  Jorricks turning back at the door and inclining his head to one side and slightly bowing forward from the waist, a wide smile on his face.

  ‘Bon appetit madam.’

  ‘Thank you Jorricks, very much.’

  Schultz as the door quietly closed, sitting his mouth agape. The firelight dancing on the ceiling. Wow. Did you see that. No maitre d’ in no hotel I’ve ever been in ever did a gesture as beautifully perfect as that. Talk of religious ceremonies. And making an obeisance to a goddess. And jesus even Jorricks recognizes that this is the most gorgeous one. And O boy even following my hangover, my craving for this champagne has come back. O christ why do I have to be confronted again with this woman. Why couldn’t she just be a fucking bitch like the others which could reduce the pain substantially of loving her. And make it easy to suppress the constant panting longing to have my prick deep inside her. Wow and I adore the way she adores her champagne and the way her pearly white teeth smilingly bite through her orange pink salmon. Nothing on this earth is there as beautiful as a slender beautiful woman who’s really hungry and who’s gobbling down food and drink with a good healthy appetite.

  ‘My goodness Sigmund. You’re not exactly slumming here are you. What utterly lovely champagne. And look, the lemon tied in gauze.’

  ‘Yeah so it doesn’t squirt in the eye.’

  ‘How did you ever find anyone like Jorricks. He’s positively wonderful.’

  ‘Kind of long story I won’t go into right now but he is wonderful. There’s not one fucking thing that comes into this house and then goes into my mouth that isn’t perfection.’

  ‘Yes, the bread, the butter and this smoked salmon are perfectly splendid even though one hates saying anything is perfectly splendid.’

  ‘Have more, honey, have more. Go ahead. Pour yourself. It might be better I don’t move.’

  ‘Gosh I might too. And you.’

  ‘Well just a token bit to keep you company. O boy. Just let me sigh. Whew. Come home to roost. It’s like having climbed to a mountain top these last few days. You get to the summit finally after all the struggle. Up out of all the chaos. And suddenly there’s the view. Utterly beautifully lying out there all around you. And you honey are the very fantastic most gorgeous centre of attraction.’

  ‘Ha ha. I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you’ve probably put sitting exactly where I’m sitting and drinking champagne. But of course I’m not complaining.’

  A rapid knock, the drawing room door opening. Jorricks holding it ajar, his tongue nervously licking his lips. A napkin stuck in his collar hanging down his front as he suddenly pulls it down and crumples it up in his hand.

  ‘Excuse me sir, pardon me very much for interrupting, but there is something I think you should see just on now on the television which I’ve been watching in the kitchen.’

  ‘Jesus Jorricks. What the hell is it. The Russians.’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Christ not the theatre on fire.’

  ‘No. But sir, I think you should put the television straight on. Let me do it for you. And excuse me madam. And sir I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

  ‘Jesus honey you don’t mind if we watch the six o’clock news do you. It must be something about my partner Binky’s mother’s death. Maybe it was murder or something.’

  Jorricks in a headlong rush out of the room, closing the door with a louder noise than is his discreet usual. The colour coming into the big glass tube. A reporter with a microphone as he stands near a wall embankment the wind blowing through his hair. Hailstones coming down out of the shafts of floodlit darkness. A pair of looming twin towers in the background rising from glistening lights on the river. The reporter shouting over the roar of a helicopter low overhead.

  ‘We are here outside this ancient fortress on the bank of the river Thames where the Crown Jewels are kept and where it is said that Henry the Sixth met his death while at prayer. The woman now perched on the west upstream tower of Tower Bridge was seen early afternoon climbing out from a
window and onto the ledge where she now sits high above the water. Since that time today Tower Bridge has been closed to traffic and a vigil kept on this just identified lady threatening to jump down at least a hundred and fifty feet into the water. From where I’m standing now police patrol boats are on the ebb tide waiting to rescue should the lady jump as she’s all afternoon threatened to do. Her identity was still a question up till only a moment ago when the lady shouted to police that she is a celebrity and her name is Mrs Schultz.’

  ‘My god. What’s this. Holy gefilte fish, I can’t watch. Jesus I got to watch.’

  ‘The lady who has accepted blankets and food has refused all requests to leave her almost inaccessible perch. And has continued her threat to jump should she be approached too close. Should there be any further developments during the present newscast our cameras will return to Tower Bridge. From Traitor’s Gate, on Tower Wharf we now hand you back to the studio.’

  Schultz sitting upright in his chair his glass of champagne clutched tightly in his hand and a crescent bite gone out of his salmon adorned piece of brown bread.

  ‘Jesus Louella turn it off before the studio newscaster announces the fucking bound to be insignificant world news.’

  ‘O dear Sigmund. O dear.’

  ‘Holy jeez she had to choose the most conspicuous bridge in all of London to jump off when there are a dozen other bridges to choose from ten minutes away from her house. Holy christ. What made her do this.’

  ‘She loves you Sigmund.’

  ‘Holy fucking shit honey. How the fuck can you say anything as psychopathic sounding as that. All she’s ever loved is to see that I don’t ever get another piece of ass. Jesus christ, sorry I put it like that. But I’m fucking distraught.’

  ‘Well Sigmund think what Priscilla’s feeling like in the wind and hail out there overhanging the Thames.’

  ‘Don’t worry she’s loving the attention of the whole fucking nation she’s getting.’

  ‘But Sigmund she could get killed or drowned.’

  ‘Boy that’ll be the day it happens to her with nine bloody lives. Jesus what’s that now. I knew it. In two seconds the door bell is ringing and banging. O jesus go peek out the drapes and see if you can see who it is Louella. Sorry about this.’

  ‘O my god Sigmund. You’re right. The street is full of reporters and cameras.’

  ‘Jesus honey. This just ain’t my day.’

  Schultz getting to his feet and flopping back again in his seat and staring across the room. Three invitations on the mantelpiece. One gold engraved. With the words that someone was having the pleasure of inviting me. Christ here I am on the verge of a prominent social position in London. People who’ve never even met me inviting me as if I were an elite asset to their parties. Just to get their picture taken with me sipping a cocktail. And christ here I am jumping up and down in my seat as if nothing is wrong in my balls. Shows what a powerful local anaesthetic utter panic is. O god Rabbi Low, are you listening tuned to this new saga unfolding. When for the first time in my life for five minutes at least, I’m not looking for publicity. And two seconds it takes them to get here. This is it. My fucking goose is cooked. I’m never going to be able to meet the Queen. That’s just how they planned it like this.

  My social

  Image

  Is ruined

  11

  ‘Sir, Lord Nectarine is on the phone.’

  ‘Bring it in and plug it in here, Jorricks.’

  And on the double Jorricks carrying the phone and placing the receiver on Schultz’s lap as he takes the cord across the room and kneels on a knee to plug it into the skirting board. Jorricks back again lifting the champagne from the ice bucket and with a towel wiping the moisture from the bottle as he pours to replenish Louella’s and Schultz’s glass. Holy jeez pouring champagne at a time of action stations with the bullets flying. Boy if that ain’t fucking grace under pressure. And elegance in adversity. Then he nice as you please bows Louella out to go to the ladies’ room. And at a time like this we all need to take a piss. And be lucky if something else much more unpleasant isn’t darkening our drawers.

  ‘Schultz. Have you seen the six o’clock news.’

  ‘I’ve seen it. And I’ve gone into purdah.’

  ‘Why aren’t you there.’

  ‘I’m not there because I’m trying to give my balls a tiny bit of recuperation and plus according to the news traffic’s blocked. Plus I’ve been through these situations too many times before.’

  ‘Good god Schultz you’re still your wife’s husband. And I do believe she must be in some distress. To put it mildly.’

  ‘Hey she’s suing and her behemoth mother is assaulting me.’ ‘That’s no excuse Schultz. The woman is the mother of your children.' ‘Don’t tell me. I know it. And she has a fucking injunction out against me to keep me six hundred yards away from them. But look, I can’t already get out my door, the Press with notebooks out have got the street jammed with their cameras. Anyway all I have to do is wait for the nine o’clock news for the latest and by that time she’s probably done a nude jig along the parapet.’

  ‘Schultz you’re a fucking cad. And should be excluded forever from the rank of gentleman.’

  ‘Cad you call me for Christ’s sake. Hey jesus exclude. Just before you say more let me include what I’ve already been through without this present cliff hanging event even happening. And when I should be in New York and Hollywood with deals concluded already.’

  ‘Well Schultz I’ve got to go to Scotland on the train later tonight to be at Binky’s mother’s funeral tomorrow. But if you don’t go down to Tower Bridge to be of assistance to your wife, I shall.’

  ‘Stop. Stop your Lordship. What you maybe don’t know is she’s a high diving and swimming champion. She was born practically on a beach. It’s nothing to her to be sitting up there.’

  ‘In the sleet, icy cold and wind Schultz.’

  ‘I heard it on the news, they gave her blankets and food. And she could go smooth as an arrow down to pierce the water as if it was part of a swimming follies. Hey shit by the way, what train you taking.’

  ‘The eleven fifteen overnight sleeper from King’s Cross Station. A train perhaps better known as the Flying Scotsman.’

  ‘Shit, if my balls don’t drop off meanwhile I’m going to go flying with you. I’ll meet you there. That way we’re not that far from Tower Bridge. And maybe on the drive over I might stop by the action and see what’s happening. That is if I am ever able to escape through the reporters surrounding this house.’

  ‘Schultz you really do take the fucking cake, sometimes. This is no time for joking. When someone’s life is at stake.’

  ‘Look believe me your Lordship. Truly believe me. I did everything possible to make that woman’s life happy. And let me tell you, provided the money was in abundance she didn’t even care if I was there. Shit I can think of no place better to be at this moment than up in them fucking bereft deserted highlands with the goats sheep and deer. Jesus I think I can hear the fucking drums and bagpipes already.’

  ‘Well Schultz if you’re not joking and on that train, you’ll certainly hear them in the morning. But you’re not exactly a friend of the deceased.’

  ‘Sure I am, I met her at your wedding reception while you were busy with a dentist and a doctor or something examining your inflamed tooth you got at the time. And if you also remember at that reception, your security guards who thought I gate crashed tackled and jumped on top of me in front of the whole place and all the other guests.’

  ‘Do you know Schultz such events have entirely slipped my mind. God how time flies.’

  ‘Well the busted ass I got at the time hasn’t slipped mine. Jesus your Lordship, how do I get rid of the reporters to be able to get out my door.’

  ‘Schultz you merely go and simply give what is commonly referred to as a press conference.’

  ‘A press conference. Are you crazy. About my wife trying to jump off a bridge. I should be de
nying my fucking connection.’

  ‘Clearly Schultz since reporters are already there, the connection has already been made.’

  ‘O my god. Jesus I’m in no condition to stand on my stoop, my balls still bulging under bandages to give a fucking press conference on a subject which has got the whole fucking entire nation embroiled.’

  ‘Well for once Schultz the words shrinking violet may be at least, and at last, said of you.’

  ‘Boy I’m shrinking. And let me tell you I think I am going violet enough to be a pansy soon. Right down to my toenails. Plus right now I have a dear lady friend in my house as a private guest. So I am going to publicly deny everything.’

  ‘And Schultz be warned that if you do, you’ll appear on all the wrong inside pages of every periodical in England saying exactly that and the page opposite will produce a marriage certificate and wedding photographs plus a picture of your lady guest, hopefully not in the nude.’

  ‘Jesus, your Lordship what the fuck do you think I should do then.’

  ‘I suggest that you suggest to your lady friend that she make herself as discreetly scarce as possible and that you own up to the bridge situation entirely. Simple lies told in the avoidance of public truth have brought entire British governments down.’

  ‘O jesus, goodbye, your Lordship. At least you’ve been one fucking friend who’s made an effort to remain one. Hey do they serve breakfast on this train.’

  ‘If they don’t Schultz I assure you that you can get the very best you’re ever likely to get at the station terminus in the morning.’

  ‘OK right up till the last second, don’t let the train go without me. I am now about to plunge into the stress situation of my life.’