As an aid to learning the speech Shonen had drawn it up for her in different-coloured inks, hoping in this way to make Elfish word associate with the different colours. She had made some progress and was now on line fifteen:Her chariot is an empty hazelnut
It was an immense effort. It seemed like the hardest thing she had ever done.
Wearying of it, Elfish dropped the speech on the floor and picked up her guitar. She plugged it into the amplifier. No sound emerged. This was not unusual. With the cheap equipment Elfish used it was a rare occasion when her guitar worked first time.
She fiddled with the lead till it came to life with a small crackle, kicked her fuzzbox on and played to herself, not caring that the noise would disturb the rest of the household. Tomorrow she would go back to the shop and beg for some better guitar leads.
Elfish was a good guitarist, somewhat more talented than most of her peers in the area. Although she liked to thrash her guitar viciously on stage she was also capable of playing some blues, or finger-picking a little country, or strumming a few jazz chords. She could even set up and maintain an African rhythm, learned through copying African records she heard on the radio, generally on John Peel. These African guitar songs danced along with skill and clarity and were full of life. Elfish hated them but copied the riffs for practice.
She took stock of her situation. Casaubon was playing drums, May was playing guitar, Shonen was teaching her the speech and Aisha was painting a backdrop. All she had to do was learn the speech, find a bassist, walk on stage and the name of Queen Mab would be hers.
Looked at this way things did not seem too bad and Elfish’s confidence rose. She would triumph. She would defeat Mo although defeating Mo was not her main purpose. It was only a necessary step on the way to achieving her ambitions. Had it suited her ambitions to cooperate with him, she would have done so.
The gig would be terrible, of course. Not even Elfish expected that four poorly rehearsed musicians playing on stage together for the first time would be anything but dreadful, but this did not matter. In her present surge of confidence Elfish felt no fear of other people. If the crowd abused her she would happily abuse them back. Once the gig was over she would have time to make things work properly.
Feelings of confidence unfortunately did not allow Elfish to relax. She had too much to do. Also, the situation in her house had worsened. The other four women, depressed about their magazine, were now irritated beyond measure by Elfish’s increasingly antisocial behaviour. They had asked her in the strongest terms to please leave the house. Elfish had refused and abused them roundly in return but she was now almost obliged to spend most of her time in her room.
She smoked cigarette after cigarette and played her guitar till her fingers were sore. Tomorrow she was meeting the others for a rehearsal and she had to have at least some idea of what she wanted them to play even though they would undoubtedly get it all wrong.
forty-nine
CARY AND LILAC sat in Cody’s room, modelling for his painting of Ben Jonson’s “Entertainment” play. Cody was painting Lilac as the Satyr and Cary as Queen Mab. In the background would be Queen Anne and her attendants.
The work in question went by the title of “A Particular Entertainment of the Queen and Prince,” and had been written by Ben Jonson for a performance before Anne, Queen of James I of England and James VI of Scotland, in the grounds of Althrope, the Spencers’ country mansion. It had been performed on June 25,1603, and first published in 1616. It was a short work of only one act.
Cody, not himself averse to showing off a little knowledge, related this to Cary and Lilac as they modelled for him. They smiled politely in return. Although he had completed only one year at art college before being ejected with ignominy, Cody still enjoyed his art. He had less time for it now he was playing guitar with Mo but he still painted regularly.
His style was positively old-fashioned. His paintings would never be shown in the alternative art gallery in Brixton, although according to Cody they would apparently show anything by anyone capable of throwing paint at a piece of canvas. If something other than paint was involved—rags, metal or unidentifiable debris—so much the better.
Although not nearly as dull and pedantic as Aran, Cody did occasionally cause Mo distress in a manner similar to the way in which Aran distressed Elfish. For instance, he likened Mo and Amnesia’s campaign against Elfish to the great revenge tragedies of the sixteenth century, and even to those of the Roman dramatist Seneca, doing this while Mo was waiting at the bar for his pint and unable to flee.
This was just the sort of comparison Aran would have enjoyed, and had circumstances been different, he and Cody could have sat for hours discussing such things while Mo and Elfish drank and played pool together and talked about ways of getting in free to whatever violent gig they wanted to see next. Unfortunately the hostility that existed between Elfish and Mo did not allow Aran and Cody to be friends.
When Cody was casting around for models it had been Amnesia’s idea that he ask Cary and Lilac, purely for the purpose of upsetting Elfish, in which they had succeeded. Amnesia now sat quietly in the next room, reading a book. She seldom left Mo’s flat, wishing for the meantime to keep out of Elfish’s sight.
Cary and Lilac sat quietly for the painting but, unusually, they were far from satisfied. Yesterday they had travelled down in a bus—the same bus in which May was living—to Twyford Down, an area close to Winchester. Twyford Down was a lovely and scenic place. It was officially designated as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. As well as being beautiful, it was of archaeological importance, having been continually inhabited since before the Iron Age, and it contained two protected ancient monuments. Several rare species of wildlife, also protected, lived there. All in all it was a unique and precious site. The Department of Transport had now decided to build a motorway through it.
There had been protests about this for some time now and Cary and Lilac, friends of several people who had been there before, journeyed down with them to join in. It had not been a pleasant experience. The area was heavily policed and the work was already well under way despite the protests. The previously beautiful area was now scarred and disfigured by deep gorges. Large areas had been stripped of trees and grass. It was obvious that Twyford Down was not going to be saved, and the protected species of wildlife were just going to have to get used to living on concrete.
“They say that Camelot was on Twyford Down,” said Lilac, and Cary shook her head sadly.
Cody asked her please to remain still while he painted her. He was grappling with the difficult task of reproducing her white dreadlocks. Perhaps this painting was not entirely traditional after all, but the white dreadlocks would look good on Queen Mab. Cody still regretted that he could no longer use Elfish as the model for the Queen of Dreams because he knew that her spirit had been right for the part.
While in this house Cary and Lilac heard much virulent abuse of Elfish. They regretted this because although Elfish was continually unpleasant to them, they liked her. For some reason they did not really believe that Elfish did not like them, in spite of all the virulent abuse she had thrown in their direction.
fifty
SHARING A BED, Aran and Elfish woke up together.
“I’m too unhappy about my girlfriend to carry on living,” said Aran.
“Then go and pick up my new guitar leads from the music shop,” said Elfish. “Doing something will make you feel better.”
Elfish phoned Casaubon.
“I’m too unhappy about my girlfriend to carry on living,” he said.
“Practise your drumming. Then go and get May and make sure she’s ready to rehearse,” said Elfish. “Doing something will make you feel better.”
Elfish phoned Shonen.
“I’m too unhappy about everything to carry on living,” said Shonen.
“Then get busy with your pile of papers for funding so you’re ready for my neighbour to help you,” said Elfish. “I’ll be down
soon. Doing something will make you feel better.”
What a sad bunch, thought Elfish, leaving Aran’s house.
“Hello, Elfish,” said Cary and Lilac, who were perched cheerfully on the low wall outside. They tried to tell her about their experiences on Twyford Down but Elfish was not interested in this, not caring one way or the other if every beautiful spot in the country was concreted over. She was also upset at them for posing for Cody’s Queen Mab picture. She felt that this was disloyal to her even though Elfish had never given Cary and Lilac any reason whatsoever to show her any loyalty.
“Haven’t I told you never to speak to me again?” she snapped, and strode past with her eyes fixed firmly on her motorbike boots. For want of polish the leather was beginning to split, which was annoying, but cleaning boots was well outside Elfish’s range of activities these days.
Stopping only to push the verse by Milton through Mo’s letterbox, Elfish hurried down to Shonen’s. Shonen received Elfish nervously though to Elfish this seemed perfectly normal. The actress was anxious after her encounter with Mo because although she did not really believe that Elfish had been lying to her about knowing someone who would help her with the funding, she could not put it entirely out of her mind.
Elfish accepted a cup of tea without grace, wishing that Shonen would offer her a proper drink.
“I’m up to line twenty-two and it’s killing me. Let’s do it.”
Shonen fled the room and was gone for some time.
“I thought your vomiting was getting better,” said Elfish impatiently as she returned.
“Do you really know someone who does funding?” blurted out Shonen, unable to approach the question as tactfully as she would have wished.
Elfish was untroubled by this. She looked straight into Shonen’s eyes and told her with the utmost sincerity that she did indeed, making up on the spot a name and address to go with the tale. In this she was utterly convincing. Even the extreme stress and tension which Elfish was now undergoing did not diminish her ability to lie with total conviction.
Reassured, Shonen flung herself enthusiastically into helping Elfish and some progress was made. After immense effort Elfish could recite Mercutio’s speech as far as line twenty-seven:And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail
“What the hell does that mean?” demanded Elfish.
“How would I know?” said Shonen.
“Well, you’re the actress. How is it the nation’s greatest playwright couldn’t write a line in plain English?”
Shonen said that it probably was plain English when it was written but Elfish was doubtful.
“I expect he made it obscure just so people would think he was clever. This Shakespeare is a total pain. It’s way too complicated. Strong and direct, that’s what a play should be,” pronounced Elfish, who had never actually been to the theatre. “Direct and to the point like my guitar playing.”
They struggled on for a while longer until Elfish grew enraged at the difficulty of it all and her bad temper sent Shonen hurrying nervously out of the room to be sick again. As there was nothing left inside Shonen to be sick with the spasms made her feel very ill. She had to bring the session to an end, much to Elfish’s disgust.
“For God’s sake, Shonen, get control of yourself. I’m the one who’s doing all the work around here. It’s me who’s spending twenty-four hours a day trying to get a band together and learn this ridiculous fucking speech. Not to mention moving heaven and earth to find people to help your theatre group. All you have to do is eat, refrain from vomiting and teach me a few lines. Pull yourself together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Back home the cat was lying on the phone. Elfish booted it off, and figured she might as well make a phone call.
“Hey, Mo, how’s things, it’s Amnesia. Is Elfish still learning the speech?”
“I think so.”
Elfish hooted with laughter, and painted a picture for Mo of the difficulties Elfish must be having, feeling that it would be best for him not to know that she was in fact making some progress.
“It was a brilliant agreement, Mo. Nothing could have made Elfish feel worse. When she tries to quote the speech on Saturday make sure there are plenty of people around. The poor bitch will die of embarrassment. I did hear from another friend that she’s doing well with her band, though. That doesn’t surprise me. You have to admit that Elfish is a determined woman. Unusually good guitarist as well. And an excellent stage diver.”
In his house, Mo lay beside Amnesia, his hand on her breast, and smiled to himself.
“I thought you were a better stage diver, Amnesia.”
“No, Elfish was better,” said Elfish. “I remember the night she jumped clear off the speakers, walked over the hands of the audience till she reached the bar and bought a pint of lager. The same night she slept with Cody, I think.”
There was a brief silence.
“Elfish slept with Cody?” said Mo, not sounding very pleased about it.
“Sure,” said Elfish. “Didn’t you know? They were always fond of each other. Cody used to recite Milton to her.”
Mo took his hand off Amnesia’s breast, and frowned.
“Oh well, see you soon,” said Elfish, and rang off.
fifty-one
O! then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider’s web;
The collars, of the moonshine’s watery beams;
Elfish recited as she walked along Coldharbour Lane and imagined herself as Queen Mab, the deliverer of dreams, before being distracted by a dope dealer outside a pub. Abandoning her recitation temporarily, she began examining a cunning idea which had occurred to her last night. It might work, and it appealed to her so much that she was moved to twitch her lips, which she imagined was a smile.
Police cars roared past, sirens blaring, a sight and sound so common as to raise no interest. Elfish screwed up her eyes against the sun and made some mental calculations. Having discovered through the credulousness of Shonen, Casaubon and Aisha that people would believe anything if they were desperate enough for it to be true, she now planned to play cynically on both the politics and emotions of Marion, Chevon, Gail and Perlita and recruit them to her cause.
She found them sitting in the large downstairs room in a pall of gloom. This room was half white and half filthy grey, a sudden enthusiasm for painting having expired with the magazine. Unfriendly eyes regarded her as she entered.
Pitching her voice at an aggressive whine she started in on them immediately, mocking them for their defeatism.
“Still sitting around depressed because you couldn’t raise any money or find a distributor? What a pathetic bunch you are. I’ve never known anyone give up so easily. If you really believed in your damned newspaper you’d work something out, you’d get the money somewhere and you’d take it round the shops on your bicycles or sell it on the streets or something. You just can’t be bothered to make the effort. Like everyone else around here you would prefer just to give up. And you have the nerve to level criticisms against me for being antisocial? Who could be sociable towards a bunch of down-and-out fakes and failures like yourselves?”
Her flatmates, suffering this criticism from Elfish about something she had never shown the slightest interest in, were shocked and perplexed. Elfish ignored their protests and carried on.
“And when an opportunity to help yourselves does arise, what happens? You ignore it. When the one person who could be of use to you is on the verge of great things, what do you do? You abuse her. And why? Because you’d rather sit around being depressed, that’s why. You enjoy
it. It makes you feel good. You get pleasure from your misery. You’re shallow. You’re sick. You blame the President of America and McDonald’s hamburgers for your troubles in Brixton and then you don’t have to do anything else except sit around whingeing about negative images on television. You’ve never tried for anything in your lives, you never will, you’ll never have any effect on the world because you don’t really want to.”
Elfish spat on the floor, and stormed up to her room.
Well, that ought to do it, she mused cheerfully.
Pigeons scampered around the roof. It always surprised Elfish the amount of noise that pigeons’ feet could make through a roof. She put on a Babes in Toyland album at immense volume to drown them out.
Human footsteps sounded on the stairs. Chevon’s head appeared round Elfish’s door.
“What opportunity for success?” she said, wincing at the noise and the humid, incense-laden air.
fifty-two
CARY AND LILAC were keen lovers but they did not have sex as often as observers of their public affection might have imagined, because much of the time they were too stoned. They could make love while powerfully under the influence of grass or ecstasy, their usual drugs, and even while tripping, but often the drugs made them more prone to lying on their mattress in a fond embrace without actually doing anything much.
On occasion, however, after taking ecstasy, they would find themselves projected into a strange and pleasantly elongated world wherein they had the energy and inclination to make love even after dancing for twelve hours, which they would do at raves. Then Lilac would slide his small body down over Cary’s pale white thighs and lick her cunt for a long, long time. Cary would lie happily like this for an age before sliding herself over on top of Lilac and taking his cock in her mouth, and suck him in a very gentle manner. In this way they would spend the remaining hours of their wakefulness, passing into a kind of tantric and ecstatic state of pleasurable feeling before eventually drifting off to sleep, feeling that they were very much in love and everything in the world was good.
Dreams of Sex and Stage Diving Page 12
