‘So what I’m saying, right,’ Jazzy droned on, ‘is that my prospects are moving all the time, right, I can see things happening I couldn’t before, and that’s all to the good, right, my handle on work is firm, my skills base is sound, right, I’m broadening out and upping my game…’
‘Please Jazzy, I know this is all very important but it can wait, really it can wait. I’m in the shit and so will you be if we don’t act in concert at once.’
‘You’re what?’
‘The shit okay? We’re in it, deeply, us both. I know, sadly I’m not joking. This is serious.’
Jazzy’s mouth fell open, astonished to be included in the same brown waters as his mother.
‘It’s bad, okay? Very. And we need to keep our heads and help each other, so I require you to listen to me, and to do so carefully. Your full attention. Let whatever differences we’ve had be put to one side; it’s that important. There may even be some way out if we can both keep our heads. I’m not asking you to do everything, just turn up, okay?’
‘What’s happened?’ he blurted hoarsely, his voice tightening. Jazzy was far from used to being his mother’s confidante and could only imagine what horrors they were faced with if she had resorted to such a desperate step.
‘I’ve discovered that your father, sorry, Noah I mean, he’s been having… having an affair behind our backs; well obviously, but I’ve only just found out about it this morning… and, well, as I am sure you can imagine, the consequences for our lives are going to be serious.’
‘Fuck me!’
‘I know it’s hard to take.’
‘Fuck me!’
‘Quite.’
‘Fuck me! Fucking hell! Fuck me!’ Jazzy had reddened dangerously and seemed to be at risk of losing control of his bowels, straining his face and hopping from foot to foot most curiously, Petula thought, as the corners of his mouth whitened with spit.
‘Please, let me finish,’ said Petula raising a hand calmingly, ‘and please slow down. I know this is hard…’
‘Fuck me!’
‘Right, but I’m not going to let him get away with it, and I won’t put up with it, okay?’ Petula took a step back; her son was performing a sort of Rumpelstiltskin dance around her, reminding her of the little victory jigs he would perform after smashing up his treehouse or stoned round a fire at the outdoor parties that speckled his teens and early twenties. It was not the sort of response she was look for.
‘Jazzy, please, like I say, we’re not going to take this lying down…’
‘Bastard!’
‘I know, I know. He’s not going to get away with this but…’
‘I should fucking coco! Bastard!’
‘Right.’
‘The dirty, dirty, d-i-r-t-y rat!’
‘Right, agreed, but let’s try and keep emotion out of it, for the moment anyway. He’s been having this affair right under our noses, I mean behind our backs, oh bother… I’m finding it difficult to speak, sorry.’ And she was. Petula felt like she was about to cry, and sensing the hopelessness of holding back, let the tears, which in fact were sequel to the exasperated trickle she had rubbed away earlier, come forth.
‘I’ll fucking do the bastard!’ cried Jazzy, jumping on the spot now, his face contorted into an approximation of neolithic outrage, ‘I’ll take him, I’ll take his teeth! Jesus, he’s been asking for it, well now I’m delivering, I don’t like snakes that go behind people’s backs, I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do…’
‘No Jazzy, please, stop it, it’s hard enough as it is.’
‘I’m going to take the snake and I’m going to cut him right up, cut him and scrawl our initials on his belly, right, and play noughts and crosses with a blade between his snakey eyes, fuck him up real bad, that’ll teach Mr Snake a thing or two, right…’
‘Oh God.’
‘If snakey wants to play games he better learn to play mine…’ ‘Jazzy, Christ, listen to me and be sensible for God’s sake please!’
‘No Mr Snake, two can play at that game, you’re not the only one that can bite!’ cried Jazzy, swirling like a Dervish in his sea-shanty of outrage.
‘Jazzy, snap out of it, please, you’re scaring me,’ yelled Petula grabbing her son’s arms, as his glazed eyes beamed with religious conviction, ‘situate yourself and get it together, I’m going to need you, please!’
Jazzy blinked, his strange visions of reptilian death suddenly passing. ‘Fuck, how could he?’ he muttered, ‘You’re the best woman on earth any man could hope to be with.’
Petula noticed a lump form in her throat. It was the same size as one that had appeared in her son’s as he spoke these words.
‘You’re such a wonderful lady, Mum…’
‘Stop it, stop it or you’ll get us both going!’
‘He can’t, he can’t be allowed to do this…’
‘I know, I know, but it won’t do any good crying or getting any more angry, please Jazzy, listen to me,’ said Petula, squeezing her son’s clenched hand. Grasping it and firmly holding on, she continued, ‘You’re going to have to exercise grip, this is going to be one of the trickiest situations we’ve faced down in our lives. I asked him to come here and be some kind of man about it, to face me and…’ She stopped herself; in this version she was going to say she had asked him to the house, which made no sense if she was going to then say that she had thrown him out, but Jazzy spared her the difficulty of embellishing further.
‘And he’s bottled it, right? He has, hasn’t he? Hasn’t even the decency to look us in the eye and fess up…’
‘Exactly, exactly that. In fact, he’s says he won’t come any closer than Shatby, and he’ll be there today… and that if I want to go and talk to him I have to go there and do it, on his terms, you see. He wants it all on his terms.’
‘Outrageous! Completely out of order.’
‘It is, he is. It’s obvious he doesn’t love us anymore, maybe he never has, anyway, without love you can end up doing anything to anyone, they don’t exist for you as people. That’s why he can treat us like this, the only thing he’s ever loved is his own comfort, having me slave for him all these years…’
‘Tell me about it!’ cried Jazzy, not to be denied his turn, ‘He never loved me either, never, he just tried to control me, and use me to get you. He needed me to pretend we were a normal family! Children and all, we were a smokescreen, so he could do what he wanted… behind the scenes. He practically killed my real father! Oh yeah, there was a lot that went on behind the scenes I could tell you about,’ Jazzy foamed, warming to his theme, ‘there’s stuff he’s done that means I can never look at him in the same way again. Things I know right? Shit that happened…’
Petula covered her mouth to disguise the smile she did not want her son to see. His face was lit again with that crooked evangelical sheen that was visited upon him whenever he talked bollocks, warning her that if she did not calm him down again he would soon be of no use to her.
‘I don’t doubt that, don’t doubt it at all. That’s why he’s staying away, he’ll do anything to avoid coming here. Well, I won’t see him there. I have my dignity…’
‘Of course you have, he can never take that away from us, why the hell should you go? You’re the one who’s been shat on, he should be at your beck and call. Not you his, he should be crawling and grovelling, that’s what, and even then, that wouldn’t be enough. Grovel, he should be made to grovel.’
Petula nodded; Jazzy was working his end ingenuously. ‘And I want a divorce Jazzy, honour requires it and I’ll accept no less. That’s what he’s scared of you see, no question of that, and I’ll take him for every penny he’s worth. If I don’t, then, well then you work out what will happen. It doesn’t bear thinking about. We’ll all be at his mercy.’
‘Jesus. I hadn’t thought of that. He can do whatever he wants to us, he could throw us out, right? Force us to move on?’
‘Of course, the place is his, but if I do get him where I want him
, in the courts, then things might look up for us if you see what I mean. For all of us. He wouldn’t be so powerful then.’
Seeing that Jazzy didn’t see what she meant, Petula pointed down to towards Tianta, his cottage, and then back up to The Heights. ‘All this would legally be ours, don’t you see? We could have security for the first time in our lives, be real masters of all we see and survey! And if it doesn’t work out like that, we’d still have a very good chunk of it. We could set ourselves up somewhere else, not have to watch our backs all the time, or sleep with one eye open wondering what the hell is going to happen all the time. You understand? We’d be safe for the first time in our lives.’
Jazzy had stopped jerking round, and looked to be carefully processing this line of reasoning which seemed to explain much that had previously been inexplicable to him.
‘You’d be entitled to half, right? And me, your blood, would have half of that, right? Half of your half I mean? Would it work out like that? Not that I’m out for anything mind…’
‘Of course!’
‘I mean I don’t want more than I deserve, I’m no operator; just a fair recompense for all the years I’ve kept this place together, worked its fields, tended it, made sure everything was going properly, you know? Only what’s right, what’s rightly mine from graft, that’s all. Only what’s fair; only what’s right.’
‘Yes, of course! But we can talk about all of that later. That’s all just detail. Now’s the time for us to try and reclaim our family, Jazz,’ exhorted Petula, twisting her face into an expression she knew Jazzy would employ if he were giving her this speech, ‘to say no to this injustice, no, once and for all, no! And to step up to the plate together, it is the plate isn’t it? Yes, to step up to it and be counted, to be a family again, are you with me dear?’
At that moment Jazzy choked, and for a wavering instant Petula was scared she had gone too far and caused him to swallow his tongue. Prolonged inspection showed how wrong she was. He was gurgling with tears, thick flowing streams, babbling brooks and overflowing eddies, so unlike her feeble emissions that she waited and watched in quiet awe. Petula had always been taken aback by the willingness of people to reveal the pain they were in, envying them their naivety.
‘I’ll do whatever it takes Mum, but… but I just don’t understand,’ Jazzy grumbled through his sobs, ‘why everything has to be so hard all the time. Why can’t we all just get on for once? I mean, you and I, we’re getting on, but then this comes along and…’
Taking Jazzy by the neck, Petula administered a hug that was not quite sure of itself, Jazzy returning her effort with interest, and simpering into her hair. ‘We were so happy, so happy here before all this started…’
Petula could not bring herself to admit that it was disasters such as this that provided the very glue that held them together; instead she sighed bravely, ‘I know dear, our family motto ought to be that we succeeded in making a hell out of heaven. Much to all our shame. But don’t let that blind you to what he’s done; whatever you and I are, he’s worse. That’s why we have to stand up to him, why it’s so important, stand up or be crushed. That’s it, our only choice. And this is our chance. We have to look upon it as an opportunity.’
‘I know, I know. It’s the only way you can make sense of it.’
‘Not make sense of it, that’s the way it is, the way things are! We can’t sit around blaming ourselves. We’re just as much victims as we would have been if he’d mown us down on the pavement in one of his old sports cars. That’s why we have to act; to protect our lives here!’
‘But there’s something about this place, you have to admit it, that breeds it, trouble, breeds trouble…’
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘You know, this place, The Heights, right? It’s like a curse, yeah? It’s cursed, like there’s some kind of crazy jinx on it that fucks with anyone who lives here, right, what else could it be, for shit to keep happening like this? And all of us, we’re all feeding the curse, giving it the bad energy it needs as its food, keeping it going like, and totally screwing ourselves, aye! And even now, right, even now, I’m helping it by fighting Noah. And the worst thing is I’ve no choice and nor have you. You see what I’m saying? That’s how it works. I know you’re right, we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do, but I’m doing wrong somehow by doing it, you see what I mean, obeying the curse’s commands…’
Petula gently let go of him. She had forgotten that listening to Jazzy was like staying on the lavatory for too long; once the essential business was over there was a temptation to remain that had to be resisted. His facts were all over the shop but she sensed his heart would go in the direction she pointed it: he was equal to the task she had in store for him.
‘Jazzy, forget about curses, just stop all that okay? They’re not what fuck up life: people are. Noah is. We need to focus and you need to pull yourself together, okay?’
‘But I still can’t get my head round how can someone do evil to those who have never done him wrong…’
‘Forget all of that, okay? All that background stuff, it’s by the by, you have to learn to seal your own wounds, and do it without the help of those who inflicted them on you. Believe me, acceptance and adaptability are the way to go, deniers are broken by life. Listen, for me Noah was just someone who I allowed to borrow me for a while, that’s all. Do you understand what I’m saying, all this philosophising and looking into the matterdeeply can wait. There’s a job to do and you have to be in the right mindset to do it – I’m relying on you now. You’re the man of the house now.’
Jazzy coughed, and stared gravely at his feet.
‘It’s just that when I think about stuff…’
‘Poppycock! Thinking gives you too many options, action narrows them down. The closer you are to action, the fewer options you have. That’s the way it’s meant to be, men are supposed to be simple doers, and leave the thinking and handwringing to gays and geriatrics. You’re a man Jazzy, a soldier, and I need you to be one for me!’
‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Excellent, that’s the ticket. Now I’m going to have to get you to go to Shatby in my place, as my representative okay? You go there and you tell Noah that a divorce is what we want, got that? Jazzy, are you listening, can you hear me. Look at me.’
Steadying his lachrymose lower lip, Jazzy raised his eyes and nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve, ‘I hear you.’
‘You’ve got to say yes Jazzy, I need to hear you say it. That way I know I can rely on you but I can’t until I hear you say it. Please be balanced, not too angry and not too sad, you have to say you can do it…’
‘Yeah, yes. I’ll do it.’
‘Bravo! That’s my boy. Now there’s not much else for you to do except go there and repeat what I’ve just said, okay? That a divorce is what we want and we won’t accept anything less. But you need to be in control, nice and calm, everything has to be just so, no scenes, no threats, no stamping up and down or breaking things, okay? We don’t want him calling the police and painting us to be the villains. It’s about getting something done and not merely trying to prove a point. You’re a man now and I want to be proud of you, no palaver; simply deliver the message and leave, understood?
‘Yeah, yeah. Completely, you can rely on me to do this.’
‘Yes. I know I can.’
Judging this to be the right moment, Petula gently elevated herself so she was level with Jazzy’s forehead and kissed him there.
‘You have my blessing, you know I care very much about you.’
‘Me too, me too, you’re everything Mum, everything…’
Liquid was once again freely flowing from Jazzy’s eyes and Petula was on the verge of wrapping up and giving him her car keys when she noticed Spider plodding up the hill gingerly, her wild stacks of black hair collected in an irregular bun. Despite her uncertain gait, there was a protective determination in her large bog-brown eyes that suggested a desire to circle the wa
gons if necessary, her loyal heart alert to the possibility that her partner may be suffering cruelly. Petula did not mind that Spider, wrapped in a goose-shit green shawl, should be wary of her – one never knew when that might become useful; the alliances of dusk had a way of transforming into twilight’s encumbrances. Mildly entertained, Petula watched Spider grope her way up to where they were, an abominable snow-woman coming to terms with a new landscape, her posture hopelessly compromised by her upper body weight, which consisted largely of her medicine-ball breasts. These burly twinned cities were in danger of scraping along behind her like soup cans, Petula thought, the strain of her panting and puffing painful to behold, yet behold it Petula did. Her actual face, the same dark gypsy tan as Mingus, was very pretty, and strongly sexual. It required little effort to imagine Spider’s bent body operating on all fours, and with an awful slip of focus, Petula saw this enchanting troglodyte pounce upon Jazzy, their mating ritual witnessed by the forest under a killing moon, Spider burying her son’s knobbly carriage under the seat of her worshipful flesh as she triumphantly rode him, on and on, towards a truly Homeric climax.
Nature and Necessity Page 38
