“Well I’ll tell you what else happened. Besides clap, hemorrhoids and horrors. She threw water on an electric fire, and fused the lights. In the dark I grabbed my tube of athelete’s foot paste to brush my teeth with and nearly died of poison.”
“Ha ha ha. A hercules like you should put it on your erections too.”
“O yeah Al you think that’s funny do you.”
“Come on enjoy a laugh don’t be a big cry baby Sigmund.”
“With the show opening tonight. And everything else that’s been happening. You want me to laugh Al.”
“Sure.”
“At this moment I am ready to get permanently hysterical. The sixteen clackers I’ve hired to beat their fucking palms together and bring the house down with bravos are holding me to ransom for double the pay we agreed. Let me tell you the show could fall on its face.”
“Sigmund, nothing fatal can go wrong for a genius impresario like you.”
“Al, you can make all kinds of remarks to me but Jesus, don’t right now give me sarcasm. In front of me I got a lawyer’s letter delivered by hand two minutes ago. Claiming his client, who would you believe it, sings about fifteen lines in the whole show, has been grievously libeled in the program. With his name misspelled sounding like a four letter dirty word. And that he is married and the father of five kids.”
“That’s not libelous for christ’s sake, that’s an olympic qualification these days.”
“O yeah Al, well if it’s not libelous it’s god damn dangerous then. The guy happens to be a real genuine bachelor. At dress rehearsal last night he brought his nice Jewish prospective mother and father in law to the show, who, even before the curtain went up left their seats out front and attacked him physically backstage over what they read in the program. And what this news did to their daughter.”
“Sigmund, it’s minor, minor. You should worry about the major.”
“Don’t worry this is major. I don’t need broken sound equipment into which we both smashed when he was trying to sock me after his prospective in laws left in a huff. Shit Al, I’m already way over budget. I would have swatted the fucker through the wall only I can’t find a replacement in time. His lawyer now wants all the billing and the page in the program reprinted in four hours.”
“Sigmund. Give me the lawyer’s number. All right. And you forget all about it. Don’t worry about a thing. See you at the theatre. I’m bringing my very own wonderful beloved with me.”
“I thought she was shy.”
“I’m pulling her there by the hair. You’ve got my deepest sincerest best wishes for a real all time smash hit.”
“Sure Al. I know I have. Because you got your own two thousand in it.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Cynic.”
Binky loftily raising his eyebrows from his book. Shifting his foot on his gout stool and frowning as he turned to stare out at the cloud gathering sky.
“Ah Schultz. One feels that theatrical history is being made on this sombre London afternoon. I couldn’t help overhearing your little chat. And especially your statement concerning your lack of what one takes to be satisfaction in sexual matters.”
“Binky it’s opening night. Is that all the thoughts you can come up with.”
“Ah Schultz, you do don’t you, demand such unrelenting devotion to duty. And yet here we are. Such momentous change wrought in our lives. All three of us snugly cosily married. And for you to say at such an early stage that you are sex starved.”
“I am.”
“Dear me then. You must learn to sublimate Schultz.”
“You just tell me how, Binky.”
“Well there are so many things. Anti blood sports for a start. Take this little tome I have here, The Moral Justification of Foxhunting, written by a dear old uncle of mine. Who felt rather strongly on the subject. You could vigorously oppose the pursuit and killing of the fox. Attend meetings. Fire off letters to the press. Considering our three positions one must think of preparing a good clean sportsmanlike world for the next generation coming.”
“What three positions.”
“Haven’t you heard, the new Countess of Nectarine is rumoured to be with child. Therefore the future concerns all three of us deeply. Even the subject of the child bearing role of women in society.”
“Holy shit, his Lordship is going to have a baby, that’s great. He must have put it up before the wedding.”
“Well Schultz, you know how his R. G. is not past a little playfulness now and again. With all due respect of course to his most marvellous dear wife.”
“Holy shit Binky. I’m getting the fuck out of here back to the theatre. Jesus you can sit wasting hours.”
“Ah business, business, always business, not a moment for tackling the mysteries of life. Just as tea is coming. Why don’t you have a cup, Schultz.”
“How can you stay so calm about the show Binky.”
“Simply Schultz, because I have such absolute faith in you.”
“Christ maybe I will sit down. Jesus we haven’t seen each other for a while. And you know, you can do my confidence wonders sometimes.”
“I’m glad Schultz. And I do so miss our little chats. We must not let our marriages come between us. Ah Rebecca, what a very splendid yummy sight, thank you my dear, put the tray there so Mr. Schultz has no trouble reaching. And stop all calls please. This poor man does slave so that we must try to provide him with a quiet moment or two of diverting reverie. Tea weak or strong Schultz.”
“I’ll take it any fucking way you do, Binky.”
“Ah, weak then. And do, please select a gateaux Schultz. Take that one, for starters, a light airy lemon roll fresh in from Fortnum’s. Now Schultz. Do sit there a moment, so that I may smile at you. Dear me. Penis out in front of the cast. Understandable of course. In view of your starved state. But good gracious me, is wedlock cramping your style.”
“You heard, a fucking colossus mother in law trying to move in on me.”
“Ah Schultz you should spread out your life a little.”
“Like how. Tell me. With that solid two tons blocking my way.”
“Most normal people keep a discreet flat in London as well as a town house. Then together with a country house perhaps in southerly Sussex and a grouse moor with suitable accommodation in northerly Scotland, bob is your rud.”
“That’s normal huh. Well I’ve already gone abnormal trying to keep up with the one place I got and may not even have much longer where instead of bob being my rud, electricity is nearly my executioner.”
“O dear. We must somehow help you Schultz we must.”
“Now you tell me Binky if wedlock has cramped your style.”
“Ah Schultz. I’m rather glad you ask me that. Indeed it has rather cramped mine. As you know most normal Englishmen do have their little fetishes. I mean, if only his Royal Grace didn’t keep his personal life so private I’m sure we’d find that even he has his. But by the way Schultz, surely you have had a wee tiny taste of the whip.”
“What. With all the blows landing on me already.”
“But hasn’t there been a nice muscular blond lady with her chastisement case knocking on your door. Haven’t you let her in. She gives the most marvellous lessons in deportment.”
“Why you dirty son of a bitch, Binky. It’s you who’s been sending that kraut around.”
“Ah Schultz, ha, ha, yes. I thought it would serve as a little mortification for you in view of some of the shoddier treatment ladies have received at your hands.”
“Shit why don’t you take some mortification.”
“Ah but I have, marrying as I have one of these higher ups in the aristocracy. They do have a way of making one feel lower down. Even when I suggested one of my just slightly deviate filthier frolics to my spouse, I was told, go do that sort of thing with your fille de joie in Soho. I acquiesce of course in such dilemmas. But my dear little creature of such a delicate constitution, with her belly quite popped out now, has suffered much morning sickness. Ou
r setting up house has been rather a hectic time. Difficult getting staff. Had to take on an Irish butler who while he demonstrated to me his expertise in disemboweling a chicken in the kitchen was, while flicking parts of the entrails about, also sending particles of guts landing in the cream jug to be used for that night’s pudding. Most discomforting. Do Schultz have another gateaux.”
“Holy christ your butler I hope has never worked in Fortnum’s.”
“To be sure Schultz, he hasn’t. He claims however to have held quite grand posts in various Irish midland situations. Ah but then, our brand new cook who wasn’t at all bad at baking cakes, had to be dismissed. Secreting rashers of bacon as she was from our larders and shoving them out through the bars of our cellar windows. Plus all other sorts of nice tasting things. Her boyfriend waiting on a motorbike fitted with the appropriate receptacle alongside our house to roar off with them. My dear wife’s old nanny who had witnessed the thefts has now been put to cooking as best she can.”
“Christ you can replace groceries. Don’t lose a good cook.”
“Good point. Yes very high marks you get for that observation Schultz. But you don’t understand. Lurking in the psyche of the British upper classes is a strong desire to discipline the lower classes. Plus the barren feeling of unhappiness it gives one as a member of the increasingly apologetic lower middle aristocratic class, to think there she is, one’s cook on her day off, with her boyfriend in a Pimlico maisonette sizzling one’s bacon for their own Sunday morning nourishment while we, the dispossessed, stare at our empty plates. Dear me servants these days do have it all their own way don’t they. But Schultz do have another spot of tea, there is worse to tell I fear.”
“Shit, I must say Binky sitting here like this listening to your marvellous troubles for a change, is a moment of fucking bliss.”
“Ah that word bliss. With or without the fucking, is often applied to honeymoons isn’t it. And on mine Schultz, secreted away in an inn by a waterfall up a valley all belonging to my father in law, I had that first night, a most erotic dream about the Sovereign. Whose beauty has, I must confess, always managed to arouse the beast in me. Had me turning and tossing in bed the entire night. My little women notwithstanding. I woke acutely embarrassed, being as I was in the dream trying to storm the gates of the palace. And as I was entirely nude I was being quite properly repulsed by guardsmen. However as a former captain in the Grenadiers I barked out a few parade ground commands which made the chaps in my nightmare quite sympathetic to my temporary insanity. O but dear me there I was newlywed, sitting up in bed under this ancient beamed ceiling, shouting out rifle drill. Little flecks of foam at the corner of my lips and my dear little one frozen in fear and trying to keep me from toppling from our bridal couch. It was all quite nearly as bad as my arrest when I had once on an undergraduate dare, strolled naked with my bowler and brolly under the sky lighted pink ceilinged roof of the Burlington Arcade over there in Piccadilly.”
“Jesus Binky why weren’t you with your genius at bullshitting, a fucking actor.”
“Of course upon occasion I do fuck. But as to being an actor, alas my shyness Schultz, my shyness. But do let me relate an even more woeful and recent event which befell me. Which of course you may think entirely unremarkable. Ah, you are, aren’t you Schultz, enjoying your tea.”
“Binky it’s a life saving ceremony you English have invented.”
“And note Schultz how appropriately it has begun to rain outside. Pitter patter of drops striking the window. But now I must tell you. How my view of the citizens of London has wretchedly changed. Having taken up residence in my old grandad’s town house to begin practice of my marriage vows. I spent many hours overseeing certain exterior improvements to grandpapa’s paint peeled victorian pile so that neighbors might feel we were doing our little bit in keeping up appearances. And I must confess I was feeling quite proud of my handiwork. When suddenly on a quiet sunny Saturday my engagement book blank, I remained snugly ensconced at home. My new little wife pottering off to look for her little bargains in baby clothes in an area of Bayswater to which, I admit openly, I am not attracted. Having breakfasted morning long over the newspapers and had a nice further nap plus the enjoyment of a self administered bed chamber diversion, I then, upon completing my ablutions, found myself facing the pleasantly empty afternoon with the household staff departed. I happily descended downstairs and throughout the early afternoon played Chopin with shutters closed and curtains drawn in a candlelit and incense perfumed music room. And well you know how one does, Schultz, get a sudden feeling, if not a desperate need, to go out of doors. I thought dash it all, with the seemliness of the weather, I would have tea in the garden. So with a mildly sheepish guilt over my solitary selfish indulgence, I flurried about as one does trying to make the setting reasonably comfy for myself. Ah you smile Schultz. Well damn it, I do confess to obtaining a certain spiritual nourishment from an agreeable milieu. Despite the dearth of London garden bird life, sparing as some naughty cats may have made it. So with a cushion for my chair, my granny’s best silver, I deposited a cake table centre. One of those gateaux which as yet uncut looks so nice just sitting there. Well, dear me, all was in readiness. My lemon neatly sliced. A suitable scandalous news item in the paper selected to peruse. And back I went into the house to pour the kettle in granny’s tea pot. And when I returned. My cake, Schultz, was gone. I looked here, I looked there, I looked everywhere. Well I just couldn’t believe it. This most awful ill fortune. Then suddenly I saw. Just over the wall. The neighbors’ wretched dog licking its cream flecked chops. Having totally devoured it. Well I don’t need to tell you I was more than somewhat annoyed Schultz. I thought damn it. I want some satisfaction. I promptly popped out to the street and rang their front bell. After waiting two of the most irritating minutes of my life, their cook answered. I said, your dog ate my cake. Well she looked at me in a tone and manner as if I were something the cat dragged in. I nearly stamped my foot. Indeed in fact I did. And repeated my demand for some satisfaction. Well off the creature went. Presumably to her employer. She was gone another highly irritating three minutes. And when she came back she handed me two shillings. I mean Schultz I was thunderstruck. Two shillings. The wretched cake had cost at least something like twelve shillings at Harrods. I looked at her incredulously. She was about to shut the door. I said it was a brand new cake. Indeed a marvellous cake. Two layers thick with jam filling and with three cherries on top. Well do you know she went away again. This time for an exasperating four minutes. And she came back and handed me a further coin. A threepenny bit. She then closed the door in my face. Standing there Schultz, those cold clammy coins in my hot little disappointed hand, I realised that something had changed most grievously in our English way of life.”
“Jesus.”
Schultz wiping his lips with one of his Lordship’s coronet embroidered napkins and staring at Binky. The rain now splattering the windows. In the greying afternoon, lights across the street flashing on.
“Holy shit Binky, sue for christ’s sake, sue.”
“Ah Schultz thank god you agree I was aggrieved. Yes indeed I thought of that. A battery of Q.C.’s righteously mouthing their way up into the House of Lords. But instead, clutching my coins I went lonely back up my steps. In through my hall and into the pitch blackness of my music room. I put my fingers down on the ivory keys of my little piano. In diminuendo I played Land of Hope and Glory. And I wept.”
Schultz rising from the chaise longue tucking the long end of his black knit tie into his belt. Then looking down and feeling to see if his flies were firmly shut. He headed out through the half open door. Banging straight into Rebecca standing in the hall, tears coursing down her face.
“Holy shit, kid, what’s the matter.”
Rebecca rushing off down the passageway. Closing the door as she disappeared into his Lordship’s private office. Schultz following, stepping slowly in. Rebecca across the room by the window. In her grey sweater and skirt. Her head t
urned away and her shoulder pressing against the wall. Her long slender fingers up against her cheek. As she heaved in sobs.
“Hey please, please, tell me what’s the matter Rebecca.”
“I love him. I love him so.”
“Who, honey. Who.”
Binky
Binky
23
Lights blazing outside the theatre. Pedestrians lining the pavement. Cars bumper to bumper jamming the street. Police on foot and horseback. Flash bulbs popping. London’s glittering people pouring out of taxis and limousines in one orgasm of celebrity after another. Two fanatic fans holding up a sign.
MAGILLACURDY
FOR
PRIME MINISTER
Big Al in a black velvet dinner jacket. Pricilla and her mother both in blazing red. Arriving out of Al’s limo, their faces beaming at the cameras and waltzing like royalty into the thronged lobby. With a sprinkling of first nighters from Hornchurch, Bromley, and Golders Green. Voices babbling. Matches striking, cigarettes lighting. Eyes flickering here. Eyes flickering there. Eyes flickering everywhere.
Schultz that late rainy afternoon, comforting Rebecca in his Lordship’s office. Then taking her to a snug Chinese restaurant up a narrow little Soho alley. Where this saddened creature poured out her heart over the sweet and sour pork.
“Jesus kid no man is worth your marvellous kind of love. Plenty of guys are dying to adore a wonderful girl like you, marry and settle down and have kids. But if you have to love somebody, love some guy who needs it. Like me for instance. See, you laugh. So now you’re going to start feeling all better.”
Schultz, at ten minutes till curtain time, coming down the lobby stairs from his private balcony box, where the previous half hour he sat subdued screened away in darkness. Without answering the deputy stagemanager’s knocks concerning a screaming tooth and nail female fight in a chorus dressing room. As other words of Binky’s echoed around between his ears.
“My dear little one Schultz, spent the entire second night of our honeymoon weeping and sobbing in my arms, saying among other things, that she had trapped me by her being with child and that any time I wanted I could abandon her. Cast her out cold and naked on the moors. Alas owned by her father fifteen miles in each direction. But I mean of course, we were overwrought, the nearby waterfall thundering in our ears with a recent heavy rainfall. By dawn I simply loved her. Loved her truly. My dear sweet cherished poppet, my petkins.”