A black uniformed and haired maid with a magnum bottle replenishing Schultz’s champagne. Schultz putting the glass to his lips and swallowing it back and holding it out for a refill. Christ I’m going to get Jorricks to order a couple of dozen cases, this stuff called Moet & Chandon on the bottle clears the head in a hurry of any hangover from last night. And that maid, had a nice musky smell. Jesus. You’d never know Binky just five minutes ago buried his mother. There he is, gliding from person to person, a merry quip here, a merry quip there. The guy is inhumanly urbane. No wonder I don’t trust him. What a waste of time it was pretending I did. And the few times I tried being honest he disembowelled me with a double cross. And you’d think now to listen to him that he wasn’t in the middle of one again to ruin me. But holy fuck. It’s his half sister. Jesus she’s got to be listed in my line up of who I got to fuck next. Now I got to wait till I can talk again to his Lordship, with christ everyone seeming to be genuflecting around him.
Schultz spying the apparition of beauty suddenly left standing alone. Schultz making his way across the room. Through the babbling voices and perfumes and the smell of smoke from the blazing fires. And halfway there. My god. Five guys have already closed in. Right when I’m going to make my move. Holy shit it’s only when you begin feeling the first pangs of real love that it gives you a god damn chance to forget all the god damn misery you had since you last thought you were feeling the first pangs of love. Jesus there’s his Lordship sitting on a tapestried chair near that massive chimney piece flanked by two niches with two large blues vases that I’m bloody sure are bound to be priceless. A sad faraway look in his eyes as he taps the ash into the grate off those god damn good cigars he smokes.
‘Ten quid for your thoughts your Lordship.’
‘Ah it’s you Schultz. I was in fact just thinking upon the five wounds of Christ on the cross.’
‘Holy jesus as if there wasn’t enough already going wrong with the world. Hey but I thought it was only four wounds, but who’s counting. O but hey that’s right. They got him in both feet, both hands and once in the side.’
‘Yes now please give me the ten quid.’
‘Hey holy shit I was only kidding.’
‘I’m afraid Schultz that you ought to know by now, and especially having regard for your national celebrity status, and suing and being sued, that money and the mention thereof unless it be a sum de minimis, precludes kidding in any semblance.’
‘Hey shit you’re serious. Holy fuck here. Take it. You just gave me the fifth wound of Christ.’
‘Graphically put Schultz, as usual.’
‘Sure why not call a wound a wound. I get them round the clock.’
‘The money, Schultz will be duly donated to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution fund.’
‘In that case here’s another twenty. Hey you know this is really a good feeling giving away money like this. It’s crazy isn’t it. It’s the first time in my life I ever had this sensation.’
‘Well then you must keep up giving Schultz, keep it up. Indeed I’ll give your name to a few deserving charities. And may I remark that the occasion reveals something absolutely deeply endearing about you, previously hidden.’
‘Hey. Really. Here’s another five. Jesus you’re right. I feel fucking wonderful. It’s amazing. It’s like magic.’
‘Ah. But you must remain aware too Schultz that you have just consumed your second glass of champagne.’
‘Third. But who’s counting. But I really do. I feel fucking wonderful. Like it’s welcome to Shangri La. Hey here’s another quid. Jesus, this is, isn’t it. Up here in the towering fucking mists. I just wish to fuck I wasn’t dressed like a butler with people actually asking me to get them drinks.’
‘Schultz have you noticed, the sums you’re giving are getting progressively smaller. That could result in diminishing the wonderful feeling you’re feeling.’
‘Jesus you’re fucking absolutely right. Here let me give you another twenty. God I’m glad you said that. I really was, no kidding wondering why I was beginning to feel kind of sheepish. Jesus live and learn. I’m getting a fucking education up here. But hey you know all in all it didn’t take that long through the ceremony. Jesus it was impressive but why was it all so short.’
‘The religious office for burial of the dead cannot be used for those who are thought to have laid violent hands upon themselves.’
‘Hey jesus why does everyone think suicide, if that’s what it was, is such a terrible thing.’
‘Well Schultz it’s very much the same as someone in the middle of your conversation getting up and leaving the room without telling you why or where they are going. You feel an awful silly old fool just sitting there left in your own company. And I do think you are likely to at least mildly resent it.’
‘But what about somebody you’d like to see the last of.’
‘Well in such case one presumes you wouldn’t be comfortably talking to them in the first place.’
‘Hey Basil, old sport let’s toast a drink to each other. This is the best funeral I’ve ever been at. But now what I want to know is where do you get all these sensible observations from.’
‘Ah Schultz. You old transvestite, you. I’ve probably told you a dozen times already. But why not, as we appear to be getting tight tell you yet again. One is inclined to glean it from a grumpy old grandfather whose false teeth were constantly falling into the soup after finding it served too hot. And he was likely to utter impatient if not angry remarks which would often reflect the verities of life and as a small terrified boy one would be much inclined to listen and one would hear many memorable pronouncements made while servants rushed to take the sugar tongs to retrieve the teeth out of the hot soup so that when cooled enough on the sideboard my grandfather could put them back in again.’
‘Jesus christ no wonder I’ve been deprived, all your good sense came from someone dropping their false teeth in the soup.’
‘Yes Schultz, dentures both upper and lower. Of course at such troubled times my grandfather would in his toothless mumbling manner call for port. And such edict would galvanize the entire household from end to end as boy apprentice butlers would be sent scurrying off to fetch same from the cellars which were some considerable distance away. Such boys were trained to sacredly carry the port in the most horizontally gentle manner possible. But of course after decanting in the pantry if too much evidence of the lees were found to be in the bottom of my grandfather’s glass after he downed it, there would be more angry voluble matters expressed concerning man’s besetments in life, and another call would be made for another bottle of port while the remainder of the first bottle was allowed to settle. However it was thought by Noble, whom you’ve met Schultz, and who served my grandfather most of his life, that a certain amount of lees were always to be left discerned in the glass so that my grandfather could complain and order a second bottle decanted and have at his disposal throughout lunch two bottles of port both of which he would systematically polish off, making sure that in the course of doing so, the other guests got as little of it as possible. He firmly believed that taking port in this manner, between his sips of claret of course, prevented him having his seizures which indeed seemed to be the case, for he would then repair calmly with a cigar to the west facing conservatory and take his nap after lunch, not waking until just prior to tea which allowed him a few minutes stroll in the gardens and deer park at which time he was fond of letting off a few shotgun salvos at stray pigeons, hares and indeed poachers. Or failing those previous three, and as he especially eschewed idlers, he would severely enjoy to bestir any lackadaisical gardener leaning on a shovel, by stealing up close behind and without a pigeon or hare in sight, letting off a shotgun blast. Into the sky of course and while pretending he was having a shot at an overhead duck. He always claimed to have hit the duck and would send the poor idler off searching and demand he find it.’
‘Holy shit, you know your Lordship, somehow that little story sort of exp
lains everything to me in life.’
‘Ah so glad to hear that Schultz.’
‘Just tell me where’s the best place I can go to buy some port.’ ‘You’ll find there are a couple of rather popular places in and around St James.’
‘Jesus I’m sending Jorricks for a few cases.’
‘You know Schultz, can I tell you something. I’ve gradually grown extremely fond of you.’
‘O yeah.’
‘You listen to me with such awe and take what I say so instantly to heart that it is entirely flattering.’
‘Well jesus, maybe on that pleasant note and now that I am minus fifty six quid and if I can ever find the way back to my bedroom, I’m going to get rid of all the travel grime and try to go take a bath without getting my balls wet.’
‘Well Schultz the way this castle is built at least you have no need to worry about the crucial gymnastics that that exercise is bound to require.’
Schultz taking a series of wrong turnings. Along corridors and up and down stairs. And ending up ascending to the top of the keep and stepping out on to an embattlement with the wind tearing at his clothes. Darkness falling and the last pink rays of a sinking sun fanning up on the grey blue sky. The faint silhouette of the mountains in the distance enclosing the black flatness of the loch. Just one single far away tiny speck of light. Jesus no wonder that from here you can look down on top of those soaring eagles and touch the clouds going by. Holy god what a place. The wind evaporates the worries right out of your mind. You may feel insignificant walking along a street mid town Manhattan but this let me tell you takes the cake. Right over this edge is an abyss of darkness. Jesus no question that a fucking jump off here would end any conversation.
Schultz feeling his way back down the spiral stair of the keep again. In the faint light, stepping through a door into a picture gallery and into another hall finally ending in a cul de sac. Retracing his steps and midway confronting a heavy oaken door in a gothic arch with open tomes carved in the stone. Entering a sombre long chamber. Jesus this must be the library. Twice as big as the one we had where I went to college. O boy, will ignominy ever cease. Palatial like a fucking palace in here. Galleries of books a mile long. Couches to sit on. If Binky read even a fraction of what was in here on one shelf he’d be an all time champion scholar. Although shit, I just thought of it, one thing this trip is doing for me, is knocking my wife’s publicity right out of my mind. And then just knocking me out.
Schultz pulling out a book. Riffling through the pages of a zoological text. Jesus no wonder people risked life and limb all over the centuries, just to be able to sit down like this and look at these beautiful coloured drawings. Of bloody molluscs no less. O boy, and that’s an insight. We’re fucking well put on this earth, our heads snooping forward to just go around smelling which cunts can be got into. After a meal or two out in an expensive restaurant. And then waiting to get sooner or later kicked in the snozzle either before or after. Holy shit when it used to be that all my efforts had to be how to kick the girls out of the house after they started sewing and cooking. And it is just one big reminder just looking at this. That such a pity we ever lost that fucking shell from one of these origins of the species. The latter evolved types among which all I am searching for is a warm hearted woman. Rabbi is that bad. That at least now in my life I should have some hope after all the stony hearted bunch of calculating bitches I’ve had the misery of confronting these past years of my life. That now maybe I have found what I am looking for. Sigmund listen, you will also find that what you are looking for, will after you find it, be like every other woman, and worse be just like your wife. So just make sure they can cook, clean and sew. Thanks a bunch Rabbi for the info, you’ve just bowed my head once more again in despair. Shattering me. Like when small and growing up I was crazy and unjewish enough with some of the Irish bastards I made friends with to believe in Christmas. And they used to kid me. By saying Santa Claus came in the summer time. Exactly on July fourth. And they hand me a present in a shoe box which blew up my dreams with a cherry bomb firecracker. Jesus by the time you learn all about life the fucking thing is all over.
Schultz entering a door under the library balcony and with faint strains of organ music, ascending another secretive spiral staircase and finding his way back to his bedroom. His baggage unpacked and clothing neatly in the drawers of the dresser. Dinner jacket, shirt and trousers laid out on the bed. Black silk socks and evening slippers embroidered with coronets. Jesus at least and at last here are a few nice things done under Binky’s aegis while my back is turned. It’s what you need in life. Something, anything that for a moment is kindly. But one thing I’m at least sure of. I’m going from now on, right through all worry, to force myself to enjoy myself. I’m going to stick my face in the sunshine somewhere and let the hot beams bathe my closed eyes and body in some bliss instead of hanging around in any more horror. And not ever let myself again be thrown into a turmoil of depression. Get out of the hardship of stage production into the glamour world of pictures and Hollywood. Get in on some of those gala highlights. Where all the action is at film festivals and premieres. Where none of the awful damage is done to you that the legitimate stage has always lying in wait. Where the cast can be bought out from under you. And if you don’t let them get bought they get sick. At least in the movie business the cast is on celluloid and the whole thing is a package under your arm you can walk around with. Now in all this medieval and primitive place, I’m going to take advantage of the modern convenience of a luxurious bathroom. And bandaged balls permitting, take a bath. While the wind moans at these lancet windows. One second I’m thinking, how can I ever forgive Binky for what he is now trying to do to me. And yet in two seconds downstairs I forgive him. Even love him. For the way he never gives anything away. Which why should he with his massive money he only has to snap his fingers or write his name on a cheque and any production he dreams up on the spur of the moment is financed. Whereas I had to go cap in hand ass kissing my way from door to door which were all nearly closed in my face. Jesus did I say nearly. Christ all. All were slammed in my face. Until Al blackmailed me with an investment into a life’s disaster of marriage. Which has now become an international explosion of publicity all over the world. Thanks a bunch Al. And hope your gaskets aren’t still leaking. Well anyway. For the moment. My only worry is, after a bath, how do I find the armoury.
Schultz undressed entering the bathroom. The wind whining and whistling about the turret windows. And in the sudden silence, the screech of an owl out somewhere in the night. The flames of the turf fire reflecting on the side of the tub as Schultz leans to twist on these two great brass taps. The faded white and stained tops of their ceramic knobs marked chaud and froid. At least I know enough French to tell which is hot and which is cold. Feel the flow of water with a finger. Jesus there’s plenty coming out of the froid but not enough coming out of the chaud.
Schultz stepping into the tub, getting his feet wet in the lukewarm water. Soaking the wash cloth to wipe himself down. Reaching to twist the hot tap further open. Taking two hands to it. Twisting it harder. Leaning in with his full weight and groaning arching his back to turn the ancient brass fixture. A sudden snap. The tap coming away in Schultz’s hand as he stares at it held up in his fist, reading the French for hot. O my fucking god. Now I’ve done it. Tore the whole fucking thing off its rusted iron joint. Leaving just a hole in the bathtub. With a fountain of hot water cascading a mile high and coming down like a thunderstorm.
Schultz grabbing a towel. Pressing it down over the jet of water. The fluffy white cotton cloth saturated as the flow seeps from underneath and floods in a deluge out over the bathroom floor. Schultz lifting the towel away and sticking his finger in the hole. Jesus I’m pushing my innocent appendage in up to the hilt and water’s still pouring all over the place. Now when I don’t need it, it’s really getting hot. And I’m going to get scalded.
Schultz pulling his finger out. And jumping back as the fount
ain erupts spouting up to hit the ceiling. Schultz holding his bandaged balls as he runs out of the bathroom. Across the bedroom. Kaboom. Tripping over the dressing table chair. Landing asprawl on his hands and knees. Crawling the rest of the way to open the door into the hall. Raising one hand cupped to his mouth to shout.
‘Help, help, help. Please come somebody. Fast. The place is being flooded. Help.’
Schultz under the cover of an eiderdown, crawling back into the bathroom. Plunging the tips of three fingers back into the hole. The water still spraying and seeping out to flow down the side of the bath and out over the floor. Steam clouding mirrors and windows. Water landing hissing on the turf fire flames. Towels drenched. Carpets soaked. Toilet paper sodden. A flash of electricity. The overhead light short circuiting. Momma meo and now we’re plunged into darkness.
The sound of feet approaching. Schultz with his free hand grabbing up the soaked eiderdown back over his shoulders and bandaged balls. Light from the hall casting a shadow across the bedroom. A female voice. And a beam of light shining on Schultz as he stands up. And the eiderdown falls down.
‘I do beg your pardon but is there someone in here who was shouting for help. O dear me. There’s a flood!’
‘Yeah, yeah. Me. I’m shouting. The place is flooding. A plumber’s needed. Or a wrench. Or a champagne cork.’