Mrs Caliban and other stories

by Rachel Ingalls

  ‘Dove?’ the doll said.

  ‘Qui,’ she answered.

  The front door opened and banged shut as Edgar’s footsteps pounded through the hall. He was running. He burst into the living-room and roared, ‘Where is she? I want the truth this time. And I mean it.’

  ‘The doll?’ Helen said. ‘I gave you the key.’

  ‘Oh, yes. But when he got there, the cupboard was bare. There’s nothing inside that locker. It’s empty.’

  ‘It can’t be. It’s got two more days to go. Edgar, that was the right key and I put the suitcase in there myself. They aren’t allowed to open those lockers before the money runs out. I put in so many –’

  ‘But she isn’t there.’

  ‘She’s got to be. You must have tried the wrong locker. Or maybe the wrong part of the row. All those things look alike.’

  ‘I looked everywhere. I saw the right locker. It was the right one, but there wasn’t any suitcase in it. If there was ever anything in it, it’s gone now.’

  ‘Well, if it’s gone,’ she said, ‘it’s been stolen.’

  ‘It can’t be stolen. No.’

  ‘That’s the only explanation I can think of. That’s where I put her, so she should still be there. I guess it happens sometimes that they get people forcing the locks, or whatever they do.’

  ‘How could you be so careless? To put her in a public place, where anybody could get at her.’

  ‘I didn’t want to try to hide her in the house. I thought you’d find her.’

  ‘But how am I going to get her back?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You’d better know. If I can’t find her, Helen – it’s the end.’

  ‘You could make another one, any time.’

  ‘Impossible.’ He shook his head slowly and sat down in a chair. He still had his coat on.

  Helen said, ‘I guess we could share Auto.’

  ‘Otto?’

  ‘His name,’ she said, looking at the doll. ‘Automatico. Auto for short.’

  ‘Buon giorno,’ the doll murmured, making a slight bow from the waist.

  Edgar said, ‘Hi,’ in a loud, unpleasant tone.

  ‘Come sta?’ the doll asked.

  ‘That’s all right, Auto,’ Helen said. ‘You can be quiet now. We’ve got some things to talk about.’

  ‘Bene, signora.’

  Edgar stared at the doll and snorted. ‘That’s really what you wanted? The guy’s a pain in the ass.’

  ‘He’s getting to be very boring. He’s about as interesting as a vibrator.’

  ‘I did just what you said.’

  ‘But I’m getting sort of sick of him. I always know what’s coming next.’

  ‘I could programme him for random selection – that’s the best I can do.’

  ‘Maybe what I needed was you.’

  ‘It’s a little late.’

  ‘It was a little late even before you started work on that thing. It began way back, with the computer – didn’t it? Remember? When you stopped coming to the table. You’d make me bring in your meals and leave them. You can get a divorce for it nowadays: you cite the computer.’

  ‘I could cite Auto here.’

  ‘Not if you made him. I don’t know what they’d call that – complicity or connivance, or something.’

  ‘I think I’ll go out for a walk.’

  ‘What’s your opinion of putting a doll like this on the market? It could become the new executive toy.’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘Why not? We could make a fortune selling them. You think we should give them away?’

  ‘Why stop with selling? You could run a rental service. Go into the call girl business: charge for every time.’

  ‘That’s no good. If we didn’t agree to sell them, they’d get stolen. People are going to want their own. Would it make a difference to let them out in the world – could somebody copy the way you do them?’

  ‘Not yet. It’s my invention. But if there’s money in it, you can bet there’d be people after the process. Life wouldn’t be worth living. We might not even be safe. That’s one of the reasons I decided from the beginning, that if I had any success with the project, I’d keep it to myself.’

  ‘You said the dolls could have a therapeutic value.’

  ‘Yes, well … you had me cornered. The therapy was for me. Just as you suspected. I only wanted to make one.’

  ‘But all those techniques and materials – the skin, the vocal cords – everything: they could be used in hospitals, couldn’t they?’

  ‘No. It’s all artificial.’

  ‘But it responds to touch and sound. If the dolls can do that, so could separate parts. You could fix almost any physical injury.’

  ‘Theoretically.’

  ‘It’s possible?’

  ‘In theory.’

  ‘Then you’ve got to. I didn’t think that far, before. If it’s really possible, it’s our duty.’

  ‘Jesus God, Helen. You take the cake. You just do.’

  ‘Me? Who had the idea for this in the first place?’

  ‘Not as a business.’

  ‘Oh, I see. That’s what makes the difference, is it?’

  Out in the hall the phone rang. Helen turned her head, but didn’t move. Edgar said, ‘Aren’t you going to get it?’

  ‘I want to finish what we’re talking about.’

  He stood up and went into the hall. She called after him, ‘Why don’t you take your coat off?’ He picked up the receiver and barked into it, ‘Hello?’

  A muffled voice came over the wire, saying, ‘I got something belongs to you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘A suitcase.’

  ‘Yes,’ Edgar said quickly. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Something was inside it. Something kind of blonde, with blue eyes.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I’ll do a deal,’ the voice said. ‘OK?’

  ‘We can talk about that. Bring her here and we’ll discuss it.’

  ‘Oh, no. I’m not bringing her anyplace.’

  ‘You don’t understand. It’s a very delicate mechanism. She shouldn’t have been away so long. She could be damaged.’

  ‘She looks fine.’

  ‘She could be damaged and it wouldn’t show. Internal injuries. I’ve got to have a look at her. She’s supposed to have regular inspections.’

  There was silence at the other end. Edgar was covered in sweat. He couldn’t think up any more reasons to tell the man why Dolly should come back. He said, ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Ron,’ the voice told him.

  ‘Well, Ron, you’d better believe me. If it goes beyond a certain stage, I can’t fix anything. I’ve been worried out of my mind. She’s got to come back to the lab.’

  ‘Are you the guy that, um …’

  ‘I’m the designer.’

  ‘Uh-huh. OK.’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Right. I’ll be over.’ He hung up.

  Edgar banged down the phone, threw off his coat and started up the stairs. Helen came out of the living-room behind him. ‘Where are you going?’ she said.

  ‘He’s got her.’

  ‘Who? What have you done with your coat?’

  ‘A man that called up. Ron. He’s bringing her over here now.’

  ‘Are you going out?’

  ‘Of course not. Dolly’s coming here.’

  ‘Well, come back and sit down,’ Helen said. She picked up his coat and hung it in the hall closet.

  ‘I’m the one who knows about her,’ he muttered. ‘He can’t do anything without me.’

  Helen pushed him into the living-room and sat him down in a chair. She took Auto out, around the corner. She steered him to the downstairs guest room where Edgar’s grandmother had once stayed after her leg operation. She stood him up in the closet and closed the door on him.

  She waited with Edgar for ten minutes. As soon as they heard the car outside they both ran to the windows. They saw Ron
get out of the car. He was wearing blue jeans and a red T-shirt. Helen said, ‘Well, he’s a bit of a slob, but that’s more the kind of thing I had in mind.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘To wind up and go to bed with. That man there.’

  ‘Mm,’ Edgar said. He was wondering if he’d be strong enough to tackle a man like that, who looked as if he could knock people down. He began to think about what must have happened all the time Dolly was away. A man like that wouldn’t have let her alone, once he’d seen her. Of course not. Edgar was ready to kill him, despite the difference in size.

  Ron got Dolly out of the car. He handled her carefully. He walked her up the front steps. He rang the doorbell.

  Edgar jerked the door open. The four of them stood looking at each other. Edgar said, ‘Hello, Dolly.’

  ‘Hello there, Edgar-poo,’ Dolly answered.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Dolly’s just fine when Edgar’s here.’

  Helen leaned close to Ron. She said, ‘I’m Helen.’

  ‘Ron,’ he said. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Why don’t we all step into the house?’ She led the way. She put the three others into the living-room, brought in some coffee and sandwiches, and said she’d take Dolly into the next room.

  ‘She stays here,’ Ron declared.

  ‘She makes me nervous. I’m just going to put her in the guest room. You can come see.’

  Ron went with her. Helen opened the door to show him the empty room. She smiled at him. ‘See?’ she told him. He laid Dolly down on top of the bed. He looked all around the room and stepped back. Helen closed the door.

  Ron followed her back to the living-room, where Edgar had changed from coffee to whiskey. Edgar said, ‘Want a drink?’

  Ron nodded. He knew he had the upper hand, drunk or sober. Even over the phone Edgar had sounded like a drip. Maybe he’d put Dolly together, but she was Ron’s by right of conquest. Possession was nine-tenths of the law: that was what they said. Let Edgar what’s-his-name try to take her back. Ron had a good left as well as a good right: he’d show this Edgar. And the woman was giving him the eye; he might be able to get her to back him up. Now that it occurred to him to notice, he knew who she was, too. She was the woman who’d put the suitcase into the locker.

  Edgar began to talk, to plead, to describe the vague glimmerings of the dream he’d had: when Dolly had first come to him as a mere idea. He began to sound so desperate, he’d been so choked up at the sight of Dolly, that Ron pretended to soften. It didn’t do any good to scare people too much while you were still trying to line them up; they could go and do something crazy. He said, ‘Look, Ed, I guess I can see how it is. You feel the same as me. But I can’t let her go. You understand? I never thought I’d say it, but we’re going to have to do some kind of a deal about sharing.’

  ‘Share Dolly? Not for anything.’

  ‘That’s the way it’s got to be. Or – you can make up your mind to go on without her. I’ll just put her in the car and drive her out of your life again. It could be a long time till I needed to bring her back to you. You built her to last, didn’t you?’

  ‘I? Yes. I’m the important one. I’m the creator. You two – what are you? I created them.’

  ‘You create, maybe,’ Helen said, ‘but you don’t appreciate.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Ron told him. ‘You couldn’t ever love Dolly like I do.’

  ‘I invented her, man. She’s all mine – she’s all me.’

  Helen said, ‘If you could hear what you sound like, Edgar.’

  ‘I sound like a man who’s been treated badly. Helen, you used to understand me.’

  ‘Oh? That must have been nice for you. And did you understand me?’ She stood up, went to the liquor cabinet and said, ‘You still haven’t brought in the Cinzano. I’ll get it.’ She marched from the room.

  Edgar said to Ron, ‘It’s true. You’re the one who needs me.’

  ‘Right. That’s why I’m willing to talk about it. You don’t have to bother with this. You can make yourself another one. Can’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sure. You make one, you can make two.’

  ‘I made a second one. It was no good.’

  ‘What was wrong with her?’

  ‘It was a male replica. For my wife.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It was her price for telling me where she put Dolly.’

  ‘No shit. And she didn’t like it?’

  ‘It isn’t real enough, apparently. She says she’s bored with it.’

  ‘Maybe you’re only good at them when it’s a woman.’

  ‘No – I know what the trouble is. It’s that I put all my best work, all my ideas and hopes, into that one effort. Dolly was the only time I could do it. I’m like a man who falls in love just once and can’t feel the same about any other woman.’

  Ron didn’t believe it. He thought Edgar wouldn’t want to give anything to other people: that was the reason why he’d fail.

  Edgar made himself a fresh drink. Helen, having found her bottle of vermouth, carried it to the guest room and parked it on the dresser while she took off Dolly’s clothes, got Auto out of the closet and then stripped him too. She put him on top of Dolly, arranged both dolls in appropriate positions, and pushed the buttons behind their ears.

  She took the bottle into the living-room. She poured herself a drink.

  Ron said, ‘OK. I get it. But you’ve got to see it my way, too. We do a deal, right?’

  ‘I might go back on it,’ Edgar said.

  ‘And then I’d come after you. And I’ve got a lot of friends, Ed. They don’t all have real good manners, either. You think about that.’

  Helen drank three large gulps of her drink. She could hear the dolls. After a few seconds, the others heard too.

  ‘What’s that?’ Edgar said.

  ‘What’s going on out there?’ Ron asked. ‘Who else is in this house? You trying to pull something on me?’

  ‘Let’s go see,’ Helen suggested. She bounced towards the door and danced into the hallway. The raucous noise of the dolls drew the two men after her.

  She smiled as she flung open the door to show Auto and Dolly engaged on what must have been round two of the full ten-patterned cycle: he whispering, ‘I could really go for you, you know,’ and she panting, ‘Oh, you gorgeous hunk of man,’ as he began to repeat, ‘Bellissima,’ with increasingly frenzied enthusiasm.

  Edgar and Ron called out curses. They rushed past Helen and grabbed Auto. They tore him away from his exertions. They got him down on the ground and began to kick him. Then they hit out at each other. Helen took the opportunity to batter Dolly with the bottle she still held. Vermouth sloshed over the bed, on to the fighting men. Edgar slapped her across the face. The dolls, against all odds, continued to try to fornicate with anything and anyone they encountered, still mouthing expressions of rapturous delight, still whispering endearment and flattery; whereas Helen, Ron and Edgar roared out obscenities: they picked up any weapons they could find, laying about with pokers, shovels, baseballs bats. Pieces of the dolls flew across the room. Springs twanged against the walls and ceiling. Reels of tape unwound themselves among the wreckage. And the battle went on; until at last – their faces contorted by hatred – husband, wife and stranger stood bruised, bloody, half-clothed and sweating among the rubble of what they had been fighting over: out of breath in the silent room, unable to speak. There was nothing to say. They stared as if they didn’t recognize each other, or the room they were standing in, or any other part of the world which, until just a few moments before, had been theirs.

  The End of Tragedy

  Mamie joined Sal at Luigi’s after the Friday evening performance. Sal was already sitting down, eating cherry cheesecake. Friday was the one day she went off her diet intentionally. Friday was also their payday.

  Mamie didn’t need to lose weight. She’d never liked sugary foods much, and though recently she’d started to drink at least one glass of so
mething every night, she burned it off in the daytime. She was the pretty one: baby face and nice legs. Her only genuine acting talent was for screaming. It was a gift she hadn’t known about until she’d gone to audition for a play based on a murder mystery.

  ‘Can you scream?’ the stage manager had asked her. He was leaning against a wall backstage, while he drank coffee out of a paper cup and watched the stage-hands strike a set from the matinée.

  ‘Sure, I guess so,’ she’d said.

  ‘Let’s hear it.’

  Mamie had looked around at the crowded stage, up at the lights and sandbags. She’d suddenly felt angry and desperate and as if she was never going to get anywhere in life or do anything. She screamed.

  There was dead silence afterwards. And a voice from somewhere said, ‘Mother of God, what was that?’

  ‘You’re hired,’ the stage-manager told her. It was her first break. She played the maid who found the body at the end of Act I. She didn’t have any words to say, only the scream. But she got so good at it that she made an impression on the management and they recommended her to the company where she met Sal. That was one of the few times she hadn’t had to go to bed with someone in order to get a job.

  Sal thought she was crazy. Sal had never slept with anybody for anything except fun. ‘It’s because you’re too nice,’ she said, ‘and you don’t think you can get what you want any other way.’

  ‘I’m not very good at anything else,’ Mamie told her. ‘I’m just beginning to realize: I’m probably never going to be very good as an actress.’

  ‘You certainly never will if you go around with that attitude. Think big, Mamie.’