Chapter 10: Ivana
I had been avoiding Hélène’s friends as much as I could since I re-emerged and started living in Charley’s apartment, but as Charley and I were often drinking in the Montparnasse district it was inevitable that I would bump into some of them eventually. I couldn’t stand their looks of pity and their commiserations, but Charley was usually at hand to chase them away with a catty comment.
Ivana was harder to get rid of. She hadn’t been a friend exactly, as she and Hélène both worked as artist’s models and competition amongst the girls was fierce.
‘Charley, Cameron! So nice to see you,’ she said one night when she spotted us in a bar.
‘Ivana, darling. You look fabulous,’ said Charley, and he got up to kiss her on both cheeks. As she turned to me, he simulated vomiting. I smiled and kissed her too.
‘So boys, what are we celebrating?’ she asked, pointing at the bottle of champagne in front of us.
‘We are celebrating a boy’s night out,’ said Charley pointedly.
‘That’s an awfully big bottle of champagne and I am one of the boys, aren’t I?’ she asked, smiling sweetly.
‘I wish you were a boy, then you’d probably leave us alone,’ said Charley, not looking happy.
‘Don’t be nasty Charley. We all know you and Cameron are sitting here waiting to pick up girls anyway, so why not pour little old me a glass,’ she said with a forgiving smile.
Charley pulled up a chair reluctantly and asked the waiter for another glass.
Like a lot of Russians, Ivana had come to France when the Bolsheviks took power. She was the mistress of some baron or other and he took her with him to Paris. She had been a great beauty in her day with her long, jet-black hair and noble features, but she was no spring chicken by the time they arrived in Paris and the baron soon tired of her and kicked her and her fur coat out on to the street.
She’d managed to find work as a model, sometimes staying on as the artist’s mistress and housekeeper too. When I met her again in 1928 she was in her early forties and her looks were fading. Her last boyfriend had kicked her out and I knew she’d be finding it hard to make ends meet. She’d be on the hunt for a new man to keep her and Charley would be a prime candidate. She might even have considered me, though she knew I wasn’t rich. I felt sorry for the woman, but I wasn’t going to let her into our life.
Charley made hints that he wanted to leave and I thought about it for a moment, but then remembered I had a sleeping tablet in my pocket and was feeling rather hungry. ‘You go ahead. I’ll just take Ivana home – you know how dangerous the streets of Paris can be,’ I said, gleefully.
‘Really Cameron? Her?’ he hissed, in my ear as he left.
Ivana looked rather pleased with herself, walking on the arm of a chap that looked young enough to be her son. Charley would no doubt tell me I was a slapper and that this was a new low, but I didn’t care. She had drunk champagne and I was hungry. She took me to a rundown old building and pushed the front door open. Behind it was a dark hallway with a staircase. I don’t think anyone living there could afford to fix the light or give the place a coat of paint.
Ivana lived on the second floor in a small, one-room apartment with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. The place was a filthy mess; clothes and dirty dishes were scattered all over the floor and I don’t think the windows had ever been cleaned. She picked up two glasses from the floor and took them into the kitchen to give them a wash. She didn’t apologise for the mess and I was almost tempted to start tidying up. Instead I sat on her bed, as it was the only thing not covered in stuff. Under the covers something moved and I jumped up.
‘That will be Monet,’ she said, laughing at the fact that I was startled.
A large, white tomcat crawled from under the covers and stretched its body. I have never been a fan of cats; it’s their expressions. They have a look on their faces as if to say So, vampire boy! I know what you are and I don’t give a shit. They know they taste horrible and as a vampire you make that mistake only once, as it takes days to get the putrid taste out of your mouth. Monet looked at me mockingly and rubbed himself against my leg. Blasted cat was getting hair all over my nice black trousers.
‘He likes you. He normally doesn’t like anybody. You must be a good person – cats can feel that,’ she said as she handed me a glass of wine and disappeared into the bathroom. Silly human thinking they understand their pet. Monet knows exactly what I am and takes great delight in letting me know how much he despises me. But two can play at that game!
‘Excellent, Monet,’ I said to him. ‘We can send mummy to sleep now.’ He gave me a look as if to say, Yeah, whatever!
When she emerged from the bathroom, Ivana had changed into a Japanese-style silk peignoir and had loosened her long black hair. In the semi-darkness of her room she still looked beautiful so I got up and walked over to her. I slipped my hand into her gown and discovered that her breasts were still round and firm. Her pink nipples hardened to my touch as I explored her body. I ran my hand between her legs and she bit my neck in pleasure. You like to bite too! I thought and it got me very excited. I picked her up and leaned her against the wall as I covered her neck and throat with kisses. She moaned and put her legs around me.
‘Gosh, you are a strong boy,’ she whispered, admiringly as I carried her to the bed and then took off my clothes. There was nowhere to put them so I had to drop them on the filthy floor. Monet came straight over and turned round a few times on top of them, then lay down, curled his paws under him and stared at me with narrowed eyes, which I thought gave him a smug expression. I’m sure he was trying to put me off doing unspeakable things to his mistress. I shot him a filthy look but not many things put me off doing unspeakable things and I soon had Ivana purring with delight. When we were finished, I was really hungry so I went to hand her the glass of wine with the sleeping tablet in, but she was already rummaging around in her handbag from which she pulled out a reefer.
‘Have you ever smoked marijuana, Cameron?’ she asked me.
‘Can’t say I have.’
She lit the thing and took a deep breath full of smoke and exhaled slowly. She then handed it to me. I was pleased she had picked up her glass and was drinking the wine. I took a careful puff and waited. It wasn’t very good and had quite a sharp taste. I had never been much of a smoker and I didn’t like this stuff.
‘Deep breath. It will be good, trust me,’ she encouraged.
I took another puff, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs and it gave me a coughing fit. I handed her the reefer back hoping she wouldn’t ask me to take another puff. She took another drag herself and then stubbed the thing out on a dirty plate.
‘I can’t afford to smoke it all at once.’ She yawned and I could see the pill was starting to have an effect. A moment later she was sound asleep on her back, snoring loudly. I found a nice vein in her arm and finally had my dinner. I was suddenly feeling quite tired too, probably a combination of the sleeping pill-infused blood and the marijuana. So I lay on the bed next to her, just to have a rest for a moment.
I woke up suddenly, and felt my skin burning.
Shit! I’d fallen asleep and now it was daylight! I was trapped with this woman and her cat in a filthy room. I dashed to the window and pulled the curtains, then I cowered in the darkest corner with a blanket wrapped around me. I was feeling mighty strange and uneasy. Monet came over and sat in front of me.
‘So there you are, vampire boy. Trapped until nightfall,’ he said to me.
‘Why can you talk?’ I asked him, amazed at this suddenly speaking cat.
‘Silence! I only have the strength to say a few words. At nightfall the vampire slayer will come for you and cut off your head with his sword,’ he told me in a pompous and serious voice.
‘What vampire slayer? How does he know I’m here?’ I asked, alarmed.
‘Big experienced slayer with a huge sword,’ Monet giggled. ‘He knows, because I told my mate Gaston, who told Minette, who
told Belle. And Belle is the slayer’s cat.’
‘What does he look like? Can I escape?’ I asked panicking.
‘You must run as soon as it gets dark. Now I need my snooze,’ and Monet strolled off and jumped up on the bed. He curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes.
Ivana woke up at eleven o’clock. She stretched and put on her peignoir then got a fright when she saw me sitting in the corner.
‘Oh! Hi, Cameron. You’re still here... do you want some coffee?’ she asked.
‘No. And please don’t open the curtains,’ I pleaded with her.
‘Come on! Your hangover can’t be that bad! I hardly saw you drink a drop.’
She started moving towards the window, so I jumped up and threw her towards the bed. She landed on top of Monet who hissed and jumped away.
‘You spoiled my snooze, you bastard,’ he growled in passing.
‘Jeez Cameron! Are you alright?’ she asked. I went back to my corner and pulled the blanket back over me.
‘No I’m not. What sort of stuff was that you made me smoke last night? Now I’m trapped here and someone is coming to kill me tonight. Monet grassed me up,’ I said, nervously rocking back and forth under my blanket.
‘Who is coming to kill you? And what about Monet?’ she asked raising her eyebrows.
‘Never mind. What was that you gave me? I feel very strange.’
‘It was only marijuana. I’ve never seen anyone reacting to it this badly. Are you sure you don’t want a coffee,’ she asked looking at me with concern.
‘No. Just leave me here in the dark,’ I said pulling the blanket further up to my chin.
Ivana showered and got dressed. She washed a cup and a plate and made herself breakfast then sat next to me on the floor and tried to feed me some toast.
‘It will wear off soon, Cameron, don’t worry,’ she reassured me. ‘Marijuana is normally pretty harmless. Did you take anything else?’
In the kitchen, I heard Monet eating his food. He had started to sing an annoying tune.
‘Slayer’s going to get you, oh, oh, slayer’s going to get you!’
He had a terrible, screechy singing voice and he was trying to eat at the same time.
‘No, I don’t think so. And could you tell Monet to shut up, he’s a terrible singer,’ I said, and I pulled the blanket over my ears.
‘Monet? You hear him singing?’ she asked, looking alarmed.
‘Yes. And not very well at that.’ I was now rocking back and forwards holding my hands over my ears.
‘Anyhow. I have a job for this afternoon so just let yourself out when you want to leave.’ I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t blame her for not wanting to be in the same room as this mad man.
As soon as darkness fell, I ran to our apartment, but because Charley wasn’t there I ran to the station and got on the first train out of Paris, which was the sleeper to Marseilles. A couple of hours into the trip my head started to clear and I felt like myself again. I got off at the next station and found a place to hide for the day. Getting back to Paris took two days, as the return trains couldn’t get me all the way in one night. When I reached the apartment, Charley was there waiting for me.
‘What happened? Where have you been for the last four days?’ he asked, worried.
‘Ivana gave me marijuana. It didn’t agree with me,’ I explained
‘Really? It’s mostly pretty harmless,’ he said, amazed.
‘Well not to me. It makes me paranoid in the extreme,’ I said and disappeared into the bathroom.
The next time we saw Ivana she said hi and that she was in a terrible rush and she hastily went on her way.
‘Good God, Cameron! I think you dodged a bullet there. I thought she’d be a real clinger. What did you do to the old girl?’ he asked.
‘I told her that her cat was a terrible singer,’ I explained cheerfully, adding another amusing quirk to my already extensive repertoire.
‘And was he?’ asked Charley, bemused.
‘Worst singer I ever heard,’ I said, and I wasn’t joking.
Language in the Blood Page 21
