A Singular Man Part 28

"h.e.l.lo."

"Nice to see you again, sir."

"You've never seen me before."

"Ah but I have. The brandy is on its way. And you will be pleased to hear we have not just made it in the back room. Please be my guest."

"Well. I can see your ancestors did not come from a stock that would make one wonder."

"You are too kind, Mr. Smith. But I always try to feel important, handsome, well dressed. As you are this evening."

"You too are too kind."

"What shall we drink to Mr. Smith."

"Havoc."

"Ha ha. Of course. If you wish. But perhaps, a toast. Her Majesty. She is as you've no doubt heard, a permanent resident with us now. And we are extremely honoured."

"I'm relapsed. Heigh ho."

"In that case, Mr. Smith my vision is that this hotel will be a refuge. For a safe relapse. Ha ha, nice mix up with words. It's what we're trying to do here with comfort. Every distinction for the distinguished. A client asks for a drink at the reception desk. We have a drink at the reception desk."

"Good on you Mr."

"Park."

"Mr. Park. I've been sweating it out too long at my outpost. I'm enveloped by the enemy."

"A man as measured as you are, is a contribution to the community."

"Thank you major."

Four bell boys in their quiet grey uniforms. Gleaming bra.s.s b.u.t.tons on tunics. Smith swaying, smiling. Mr. Park clapping hands. Bell boys snapping to attention.

"Take Mr. Smith to Her Majesty's suite eighteen B."

Platoon leading George Smith to the elevator doors. Stepping aside as Smith stepped in. Protocol has not packed up yet. I'll go if her nibs says get out. s.h.i.+rl said I never offered to get my hands wet in the sink. She'll go into old age without me. Sitting in her empty nest. Small body in ap.r.o.n. Ladling out porridge in the bowls. Here is your daddy kids, shouting for justice and getting his just desserts instead. Your mother says sue. Stretch me out on the altar of the law. When in my heart I chirp.

Meet you In apple green July Hiding Arm's length Under the Uttermost tree.

We'll Play A pink Piano.

Become Each other's Sadness.

Her Majesty stood at the door. Her arms open. Smith walked between them clutched up tightly to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Platoon retreating. Grumbling back into the elevator without a tip. Easy money corrupts. Hard to know how long one keeps gripped in greeting. Across the beige room curtains fluttering in an open terrace door.

"George can I make you some scrambled eggs."

Smith holding Her Majesty away from him. To sight her and see her blueish eyes in soft moist lids. Something unpardonable happening in my trousers. To the sound of her voice. Take her hand and put it there.

"George you rude thing after all.'1 "Your Majesty squeeze it tightly. It needs comfort."

"George you haven't changed. Bold. Grey too. You are, you know. Kiss me."

Little parcel dropping from Smith's dark arm. Tightening around Her Majesty. One of her soft hands reaching to tug Smith's ear, the other to catch on a lobe of lower haunch and there impart a friendly fingering. North and far away. The Goose Goes Inn.

"Your Majesty you smell so good/'

"Whale sperm."

"Take off your clothes"

Her Majesty unfurled her sari. And kindly took her two b.r.e.a.s.t.s and put them in George Smith's hands. He said they weighed the same. Lights out Glow on the sky. All rainbow. Pots of gold everywhere.

"Dear George."

"It's me."

A few Good old Days Are left.

19.

GEORGE Smith taking his personal temperature which was chilly. The thin silver line showing just below the red mark for normal. Last night with Her Majesty. And this cool morning, hungover, mouth dry, head throbbing. A dream. Big fat woman in a green raincoat, really enormous, started beating me with her walking stick. Of all the blasted cheek I said, desist. Miss Tomson stood smiling by on a marble step between pillars and on her blue sweatered chest hung two little golden b.a.l.l.s, one below the other, just as it should be and Smith she said, these are yours, I did some alchemy. Smith taking his personal temperature which was chilly. The thin silver line showing just below the red mark for normal. Last night with Her Majesty. And this cool morning, hungover, mouth dry, head throbbing. A dream. Big fat woman in a green raincoat, really enormous, started beating me with her walking stick. Of all the blasted cheek I said, desist. Miss Tomson stood smiling by on a marble step between pillars and on her blue sweatered chest hung two little golden b.a.l.l.s, one below the other, just as it should be and Smith she said, these are yours, I did some alchemy.

Sound of the opening door. A shuffle. Miss Martin wearing low heels. Said men with power were real men. Up against a lot of corporate bodies what was the use of struggling. We're plankton.

"Good morning, Miss Martin is that you."

"Yes."

Smith turning on his naked shoulder. Slippery surface of the horsehair sofa, now tucked up tightly to the part.i.tion. I fear out of caution for Miss Martin's rifle where a bead could be drawn if still asleep when she came. Also need that added bit of privacy which makes one's lot easier. Plus the convenience of the shelf near the wash basin for the regimen of these mornings. One dark tiny pill of the day's vitamins on one big white plate. Two oranges, oatmeal, cocoa and bottle of cod liver oil that Miss Martin buys out of the petty cash. Matilda has exhausted me in Merry Mansions.

"Miss Martin, what time."

"I'm late. They stopped the train and were loading on lumber in the middle of the bridge. For about an hour."

"I just asked for the time."

"Twelve thirty."

"Thank you. Don't come in. I'm indelicate. Utterly frazzled. After being vaguely champion. I think. Last night. O G.o.d."

Nightmare. Somewhere between dreams. Bonniface appeared. Completely regaled in deep sea diving equipment. All the s.h.i.+ny k.n.o.bs and valves on the waterproof helmet. We met on the sea bed. Bonniface smiling inside the little round window, lugging the great heavy square shoes on his feet. Mr. Mystery on a lead. We were having a serious underwater chat. I woke up when the sharks came.

"Mr. Smith, there were three men here yesterday. Who wanted to talk to you. They wouldn't say what about. I told them I didn't know where you were."

"Is there a bag out there, Miss Martin. A paper one with staples in it. Would you look please."

"I can't see anything."

"Are you sure."

"Yes."

"Look under everything. Is it hanging on the hook. Or the hat tree."

"It isn't here."

"O G.o.d."

"What's the matter."

"Find that bag."

"Don't shout at me."

"I'm sorry Miss Martin. Find the bag."

"I have found something." have found something."

"Where. Let me have it."

"I'm pregnant."

"No drolleries this morning please. That bag."

"Three months."

Smith spectacular. Throwing coats from the sofa. Knocking over the bathing screen. Miss Martin at the door, eyes blinking at the papers and garments flying.

"Come on Miss Martin, we must find this paper bag."

Miss Martin silently at the door. Smith on hands and knees looking under sofa and desk, two soiled soles of feet sticking out. Opening the window to peer down the airshaft. Pulling open drawers, scrabbling through files. To turn around wearily and face Miss Martin behind the tiny dark hole of her rifle.

"Miss Martin what are you doing with that gun."

"Listen to me."

"I'm listening. Put the gun down."

"No."

"Miss Martin. I hope you're aware of what you're doing."

"I am, you're not going to turn rat on me."

"I beg your pardon."

"No you're not."

"Miss Martin get a grip. For G.o.d's sake."

"My finger's on this trigger, that's all I need."

"Do you realise you could shoot me."

"Yes."

"All right. Put it down then."

"You think it's a joke."

"I don't think anything's a joke. Just want to find my paper bag."

"You didn't even hear what I said. I said I was pregnant. Over three months."

"This is no time to be hysterical. My eyeb.a.l.l.s are rusted in the sockets. I feel terrible, what a hangover. And I can't find my paper bag."

"I'm not hysterical."

"Just point the gun a little away."

"What am I going to do. If my mother finds out."

"Please, put the gun down. Guns have a way of going off. I know you're an experienced shot. But my army revolver once went off in my holster and split open the toe of my riding boot."

"Shut up."

"O.".

"You've ignored me all these weeks."

"Miss Martin, I've seen you every day. We've talked. Chatted. Short of presuming upon you."

"You presumed in the log cabin."

"I rescued you from a venomous insect."

"It wasn't. I looked it up in a book. You disappeared with that Miss Tomson. Glad her old dog was shot."

"Just let me put on my trousers, please."