“I don’t believe it. Is that true Binky. This is another joke. I had Gayboy on his knees begging for mercy. Beaten. Hey sit down your Lordship, don’t go laughing around the room like that.”
“O my god Schultz, O my god, you take the fucking cake, you really do.”
“Hey Binky stop him, he’s going to hurt his stomach.”
“O dear, Schultz while his Royal Grace is indisposed with laughter, you ought to pay attention to the more gastronomic matters at hand.”
Mario’s assistant nearly toppling a tray as his hunched over Lordship lurched helplessly holding his belly, to struggle to stand straight again as Rebecca stood at the door, her neat shapely fist knocking.
“Mr. Schultz there’s an urgent call for you on Lord Nectarine’s private line.”
“And Schultz, how many times have I told you. Not to use my line.”
“You guys tie up this joint, what am I supposed to do. Your weddings, appointments with tailors, shooting parties, races. Jesus christ excuse me.”
“Schultz, I want to fervently urge you not to be long. Or you’ll miss Mario’s triumphant soufflé aux fruits de la passion.”
“I shouldn’t miss a deal. That’s what I shouldn’t miss.”
Schultz rushing into the hall. With a crash. Tripping over two shotgun cases parked against the wall. A renewed roar of his Lordship’s laughter. Rebecca helping Schultz up, and holding open his Lordship’s door, her hand lowering suddenly to stay Mr. Schultz on the arm.”
“Mr. Schultz, be prepared, I think it’s rather bad news.”
“What, I could have bad news. That’ll be a big novelty all of a sudden. But thanks. I appreciate your warning.”
Mario the chef pouring brandy and cutting cigars, his assistant brewing coffee. A moment of golden sunlight in the windows fading. Sky darkening and a roll of thunder. Schultz slowly entering the chairman’s office. His head shaking back and forth. Binky holding out his cigar between his lips as Mario flourishes a flame to it.
“Schultz, whatever is the trouble, you’re wearing your most quizzical frown.”
“You won’t believe it. I don’t believe it. I simply don’t believe it.”
“What don’t you believe Schultz.”
“It’s like suddenly there’s nothing anymore you can have faith in. Like England. Something solid. Hear that. Just listen. The newspaper guys down in the street are shouting it out. One of the most prestigious firms in this country. Suddenly. Has gone bust. And my biggest investor involved with them is pulling every penny he’s got out of the show. I feel sick.”
“Pour Mr. Schultz a large brandy Mario.”
“Everything was coming together. And now. In a fraction of a second all that was rosy, promising and wonderful suddenly becomes insane, disastrous and horrifying. I got to pay wages at the end of the week. Astronomical bills at the Dorchester. Where on top of their laundry, long distance phone calls and dry cleaning, they want sitting rooms. Jesus. And what a mistake I’m making telling you guys. Look at you. You’re grinning. Like vultures who are going to descend any second on what’s left of my bones.”
“Schultz you always accuse one with that unflattering description.”
“Sure I do. You’ve got me at your mercy. Haven’t you. You’re going to squeeze me out. You’re going to ruin me.”
“But of course we are, Schultz. Whatever did you expect. Don’t you want us to finance you one hundred per cent.”
“And make me just an employee. Hey your Lordship you wouldn’t when my defences are down do this to me would you.”
“Ah Schultz, my dear Schultz, in mitigation it must be admitted you have for a long time now made the best of bad situations. Which however has always made them worse.”
“Hey come on. You got to leave me with control of the show your Lordship. A few unpredicted circumstances out of the fucking wild blue yonder have tripped me up for a moment when usually I’m ready for anything that can happen.”
“Schultz if I may say so, having just heard you trample my shotguns, I’ve come to the conclusion that you are so meticulous at being absolutely ready for anything that when the obvious happens, as it invariably does, that you’re not ready. And what’s that you’re mumbling Schultz.”
“Your Lordship I’m mumbling a sentimental little poem.”
Do not shit
While you’re
Shitting
Do not go blind
While you’re going
Blind
17
A Belgravia morning sky bright breezy blue outside. Greta brushing Schultz’s shoulders down as he stood morning suited in front of the mirror adjusting his formal grey tie in the front hall of number four Arabesque Street. And popping on and off his distinctly flattering grey topper. The phone ringing.
“Hello.”
“Jesus you’re a fine one.”
“It’s not you Al.”
“Yeah. Me. Al.”
“Holy christ not now, Al, not now. I’m this second about to go out my door to his Lordship’s wedding.”
“It should be your wedding.”
“Al for christ’s sake, here I am, the day’s sunny, I’m all dressed up in a hurry to take a few minutes off to go to do something that might be a nice experience for a change.”
“So you want a nice experience. Thanks for the one I stepped into where you puked over the whole back of the car and me and my guests had to use a taxi. But never mind that it took a three hundred quid new upholstery job to get rid of the smell.”
“It’s your capitalist way of life, Al, a socialist wouldn’t have to worry about such things.”
“Wise guy you wouldn’t find it so politically funny if it was your automobile.”
“Look Al I’m sorry. Who could control a dinner in my stomach after what I was confronted with in that trap.”
“It was my birthday party.”
“O.K. so let me wish you once more. Happy ninetieth.”
“So help me god Sigmund. They’ve taken Counsel’s opinion. It’s going to be front page paternity proceedings with blood tests. Save anguish. Marry.”
“Save anguish Al. Are you kidding.”
“Sigmund don’t you realize you could end up in a few months being the father of a human being.”
“Al I’m just easing up one inch from last week’s catastrophes to take a peek out of the deepest fucking abyss of my whole life. Sixty thousand pounds I got to find before Tuesday. I’m at everybody’s mercy. Looking for money at this last minute is impossible. Nobody wants to know. I got a theatre now and I ain’t got no show.”
“What do you mean no show.”
“The show is in a shambles. Equity could close me down. Unofficially I’m in rehearsals. While Magillacurdy’s Agent is asking an astronomical salary against a straight ten per cent of the gross, like his client recently sleeping between gravestones, is a West End Hollywood Broadway star already, instead of a discovery.”
“So he’s got a good Agent whom I happen to know.”
“That ain’t all, Al. Everyone hates everybody. Magillacurdy bodily threw the director off the stage into the third row stall seats and broke his collar bone.”
“So. He has an artistic temperament.”
“I’m being sued.”
“So what’s recently new about that.”
“I’ll tell you what’s recently new. The director is the lowest kind of creep, demanding body guards and threatening to slander the show to the newspapers.”
“Why didn’t you ring me when you got these troubles Sigmund.”
“Al I don’t ring you because you bring me more trouble that’s why I don’t ring you.”
“Tell me. What else is bothering you Sigmund.”
“You don’t think that’s enough, which yet is only a fraction.”
“Take it easy. Just tell me.”
“You want to hear about what they did to me over the sets, the costumes, and the designer who thinks he’s El Greco.”
&nb
sp; “O.K. O.K. Don’t get hysterical. Look. I’ll tell you. Sigmund do you want to zing mit der dick dick.”
“What the fuck is that Al.”
“It’s like everything going your way.”
“For that at this moment I’ll zing with any fucking dick dick.”
“Then promise to sit down like a civilized person without jumping up to puke over everything.”
“Hey Al I don’t jump up to puke over everything. It’s something like the horrorsville you sucked me into that makes me puke.”
“O.K. O.K. calm down. If you talk to Pricilla I guarantee you Magillacurdy is signed for a nice medium round salary and maybe a per cent or so of the gross.”
“Al it’s got to be less than a medium round salary and no per cent of the gross.”
“What, you expect to get a genius for nothing.”
“No Al. But I’m paying exorbitant rent for the theatre.”
“O.K. you meet Pricilla and it’s no per cent of the gross.”
“Will you guarantee Al that that two ton tarantula is miles away in her fucking web gorging caviar someone else is paying for.”
“You have my word, you won’t see her. Plus I’ll get you sixty thousand.”
“Al don’t joke.”
“I’m not joking. Since when have I ever joked over something I said I was going to do. Tell me.”
“O.K. Al I believe you.”
“So three thirty today alright. Let’s say the lounge of the Dorchester Hotel.”
“Jesus not there Al. Except for the price that place is costing me I still try to go there for peace of mind.”
“The Ritz then, the palm court, under the gold embellishments. Have a nice tea.”
“Thanks a whole bunch. On second thoughts, make it at the Dorchester. I need the peace of mind. So long Al.”
“Wait a second Sigmund.”
“What.”
“I got news.”
“What news.”
“I’m in love.”
“Holy jesus another pair of balls for the guillotine.”
“Don’t say a thing like that. I’m in love. With the most wonderful, the most serene and beautiful creature I have ever met. You will love her too.”
“Al, that’s great, you fuck her for me but meanwhile I’m missing my sunglasses and my chauffeur’s waiting. Goodbye.”
Greta smiling by the door in her yellow gingham dress, a flower in her hair, Schultz’s sunglasses in her outstretched hand as he puts fingers forth petting her under the chin.
“Honey, you know you’ve been a real great help to me. You really have. But soon like tomorrow or the next day you got to find somewhere else to stay. You’re a nice sweet girl. You’re going to meet some nice guy someday to settle down with. Jesus don’t start crying.”
“You no love me just a little bit.”
“Sure. But if you got ears can’t you see what my life is like. Somebody maybe could come again trying to throw you out on the street.”
“Don’t throw me out. No don’t.”
“Jesus kid, stop the tears will you. Here take this. Now you go buy yourself something and see a movie.”
“I love you.”
“Calm down now. That’s a good kid. You shouldn’t get a fixation on just one guy.”
“What is fixation.”
“O Jesus, fixation is, hey I’ll tell you later. I’m gone now.”
Schultz catching a flash reflection of himself in the window of the limousine door. The hired chauffeur pulling it open with a salute and bow.
“Good morning sir, looking very spruce.”
“Well when you don’t feel that way that’s the way to look.”
“I agree sir.”
The door closing a gentle click on Schultz. Sitting back in the sweet soft perfumed unpuked upon upholstery. And holy shit. The Ambassador on his stoop. Dressed for a wedding. And waving grinning out of his black mind at me. Hi ya. Jesus Your Excellency where do you get such constant happiness all over your face from.
By the palace wall and the park, the limousine purring down Constitution Hill. Beneath the mid morning shade of trees. Into the Mall full of sunshine. The town humming. Like everyone who is anyone is heading for his Lordship’s nuptials. And holy shit in the sudden gorgeous few moments rolling along like this, I nearly completely forgot. My invitation to go to the palace. Torn up by that bitch.
Schultz’s car slowing down to a standstill in a long queue. Sound of a loud speaker in the distance.
“Holy christ, driver what’s the hold up.”
“There has to be a clearway left for the Sovereign sir. All traffic is stopped.”
“I’m late, honk your horn.”
“Sir I’m sorry I just can’t do that.”
“Hey isn’t this a democracy.”
“Sir with all due respect, if you’d just look at the people in these cars I think aristocracy would be a better word.”
“Christ, it’s the one guy in the world I really like. I’m not going to miss him getting married. I’m walking. Pick me up on the church stoop later.”
Police on the pavement holding back the crowd watching the resplendent wedding guests in their carloads popping out into a blaze of flash bulbs. Film and television crews adjusting lights and cameras. Oohs and aahs at the arrival of the bride. Schultz shoving his way through onlookers caught suddenly in the surge forward of reporters.
“Jesus christ you guys watch who you’re pushing.”
Ladies clutching hats in the breeze. Police locking arms and holding their backs against the crowd. Schultz buffeted pitching forward to his hands and knees. Grey topper flying off his head and kicked by several feet till a photographer’s foot squashed it. An appreciative chuckle as Schultz shouted.
“Hey Jesus don’t ruin the rented clothes.”
Helped up by hands of wedding guests, Schultz led to safety inside the church door. In the calmer cool Schultz punching his desecrated top hat back into lopsided shape. As a familiar handsome smiling face stepped out of the shadows.
“Schultz, not a pair of shotguns to be seen and still you manage to fall flat on your face.”
“I know Binky, I know. And this topper is the first fucking hat I ever really looked good in.”
“I must say I did at the commotion nip back into the shadows here in case someone thought I knew you.”
“They were trying to stop me coming in, my invitation got torn up in the turmoil of my life.”
“How ever did you get in through the strict security Schultz.”
“You saw me. The guests took me through by the armpits.”
“Schultz, you do amaze me. Here. For your buttonhole. This specially hued carnation from his Royal Grace’s conservatory will identify you as a special friend of the groom’s. But my, but for your little tumble, and your squashed topper, you do look quite splendid.”
“I got blinded by a flash bulb and pushed. The publicity, holy christ, why didn’t you tell me. Some of these people here are legendary. I could have told our publicist to come. The show could use this publicity.”
“It has rather brought a lot of folk crawling out of Debrett and the pages of history but I hardly think Schultz that many of them care to hit showbizz headlines before they crawl back in again.”
“What a fucking waste. Jesus look at this. Not a profile, not a countenance out of place. Except yours truly. Jesus, who’s that, who’s that. What a handsome distinguished looking guy.”
“That is his Royal Grace’s former university tutor.”
“Who’s that. Who’s that.”
“That is a former Conservative Prime Minister.”
“He’s got such impeccable dignity. Hey what are you doing hanging around here at the door. And I thought you and his Lordship were having a joint wedding.”
“In answer to your first question Schultz an armoured security vehicle should appear any moment with the ring and other assorted baubles which I’m ashamed to say as best man and after a rather hecti
c night, I forgot to bring for his Royal Grace. In answer to your second. Alas my little Lady’s pa the Duke and especially her ma the Duchess, are, at the second thought of my being their son in law, to use one of your own nice little phrases, having kittens and due to their daughter’s tummy now risen quite noticeably we’re to be married in the Duke’s private chapel hidden behind some rhododendrons in their garden.”
“Pregnancy. Don’t remind me. But his Lordship’s bride. She’s a real knockout.”
“Good heavens Schultz, but of course. You didn’t expect his Royal Grace, after his exhausting years of searching, to move an unlikely filly into his stables. She is also Schultz, along with her stunning eyes, lilting voice, and creamy complexion, a vivacious conversationalist.”
“I can’t wait to talk to her.”
“And when you do Schultz, you will find her witty, compassionate and understanding.”
“What else for christ’s sake.”
“Good bone, strong quarters, nice shoulder, perfect gaskins. In short an ample but thoroughbred figure. Works on behalf of many charities and is dedicated to a multitude of good causes. She is often to be seen serene at public functions and ceremonies. She has been to his Royal Grace a ministering angel in his recent dark hours suffering from swollen tonsils and toothache. She can illuminate hope in any man’s blackest despair. She has wisdom and poise. She bears tragedy with an iron constancy.”
“Holy shit stop Binky. Before I collapse in envy. Tell me something wrong with her.”
“In one of her occasional but violent bursts of temper, she pushed his Royal Grace fully clothed into a chilled tub of bath water while expressing one of her strongly held opinions which his Royal Grace was at the time disputing.”
“God you fuckers, you end up with everything I’m dying to find in a woman, like consideration instead of cunning, discretion instead of deceit, like backbone instead of bitching.”
“Ah Schultz, you’re such a romantic, but you must now excuse me as I see his Royal Grace’s baubles have arrived.”
Amid the marble statues and memorials, grey coated ushers in a rush at the appearance of two foreign reigning sovereigns. Escorting them between the phalanxes of dignitaries from Church and State, from the military and industry. Vestments of Bishops and Archbishops on the altar. Red, blues and greens glowing high in the stained glass windows. The nearby massive booming bell of Big Ben. Throbbing chords of organ music. Voices of the choir. The Abbey echoing. Ladies heads turning with their hats of yellows, purples, pinks and creams. Perfumes, incense, rustling dresses. Jesus the elegance is crippling. Everywhere you look. Why wasn’t I born with relations and friends like this all so fucking polite and good looking. Wearing clothes and high quality leather goods you couldn’t find within ten miles of my parents’ store. The diamonds alone would make Uncle Werb have an apoplectic fit of envy that he didn’t have the mark up on the gems. What marvellous singing. The whole church shaking. Here they come, gold braid all over her father. Holy christ she’s even more gorgeous than Binky says. Giving me, all the way from nowhere, a fucking erection right in this pew. For the first time I know what my mother meant when she said I was too good to play with anybody else on my block.