The next time he took me to The Rocking Boulders’ villa, The Handyman promised that Rick Schwagger himself would be there. I was nervous already because the compartments in the maracas remained empty of drugs. How Rick, with his reputation for turning nasty, would react to me was even more of a worry.
Perhaps being on edge made me want to talk, for on the way I complained about the difficulty of finding information for the ‘auto’biography. For once, The Handyman was sympathetic. ‘Tell you the truth,’ he said, ‘I never thought much of all that mumbo jumbo about astrology, tarot cards and juju beads. You were worth encouraging, not because of all that mystic twaddle, but because you cheer Teef up, and that’s not easy these days. Trouble is, we can’t tell Quick that, he’s sold on the idea of you being psychic. When you meet him, particularly this being the first time, try not to say anything that might aggravate him. Thing to remember is that he has a very short attention span, so if you can keep chatting about a subject for maybe a minute, sometimes half a minute will do, by the time you stop, his mind will have wandered off. Doesn’t guarantee he won’t meander back to it, but if he does you just bluff him again till he’s thinking of something else.
‘In this business you have to find your way round dozens of obstacles to survive. Trying to work out what to do can make your head hurt. Doing the book, and keeping Quick and Teef happy at the same time, is not going to be easy. A good thing to mention to Quick is money, like who is going to get what percentage. Anything that might lead to a big wad of notes will have a magic effect on his powers of concentration. The thought of earning yet more cash to add to his millions will occupy him for, ooh, might be as long as two whole minutes. If you’ve got a few pages of notes to show him, that should keep him happy for now, but be very careful what you say to him. If he shows any sign of turning nasty, do a runner. Don’t let him get between you and the door. You’re not on your own, I’ll try to keep things steady.’
‘What do you mean by him “turning nasty”? Does he get violent?’
‘Not sure if you would call it violent exactly … Well, it is in a way. He’s developed a ruthless streak. Bullying, you might call it. Or assault. Highly unlikely you’ll come in for aggravation. I’m good at calming him down, but be on your guard just in case.’
His manner was calm and relaxed, despite giving this sphinx-like warning. When we arrived at the villa, quiet determination had replaced my earlier trepidation. If Quick took an instant dislike to me and kicked me out, I would be disappointed, but he was not about to decide my fate. Life with Dale and work at the bookshop would carry on as before. With luck, other opportunities would come along.
The Handyman pointed at the holdall. ‘You don’t usually bring anything with you. What you got in there?’
‘Maracas.’
‘Teef ’s not trying to pull the old trick of filling maracas with dope, is he? You’d better let me see.’
I took them out of the bag and said, ‘The handles are hollow and you can unscrew them; there are hidden compartments at the top too. They’re empty. He did ask me to fill them with gear. I said no, but he wouldn’t let it go. It was useless him asking me, I’ve never gone in for drugs. I picked them up without thinking when I left the villa last time. You can open them up and see for yourself, if you want.’
He shook his head. ‘I believe you, but see what I mean about needing to be careful? You’ve built Teef ’s hopes up now. Always tell me about problems like that, I know how to handle things.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘So you’ve “never gone in for drugs.” There seem to be a lot of things you aren’t into, things we normally take for granted in this game.’
Before we entered the villa, we looked at each other, eye to eye, for a few moments. He appeared to be waiting for me to say or do something, so I walked towards him and put a friendly arm round his shoulders. He hugged me briefly and then let me go. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll make sure you’re okay. Teef does find it hard to go without his gear, but the medics say another binge will probably kill him. He can’t stop himself once he starts…if you’d seen the terrible states he’s been in.Tell you what, here’s a few miniature bottles of Jack Daniel’s. I always have some handy in case he gets desperate. Say you managed to sneak them past me. That should soften his disappointment. Even his booze is rationed these days.’
Gratefully I put the little bottles of Teef ’s favourite spirit into the holdall. Previously the house had been quiet when we arrived, but now the sound of one of The Rocking Boulders’ hits, Black Treacle, a number one in the nineteen-seventies, drifted into the hall:
Black treacle, she gave it to me,
Black treacle, how good it can be,
Black treacle, if you look you can see, Black treacle, she put her hand on my knee.
This was obviously a recording, not Quick and Teef upstairs playing live. Not having heard the song for ages, I had forgotten how catchy it was. The raunchy vocal was brilliantly matched by Teef ’s edgy guitar riff. My pulse quickened as we approached the door to the upstairs lounge. The music stopped and I could hear one of the most famous voices in rock and roll say: ‘Er, well, you know, to be quick, right, you know as well as I do like, well, right, quick, what I mean to say is, you know…’
Timidly I hung back, not wanting to interrupt Quick’s flow of ideas, but The Handyman grabbed my arm and pulled me into the room. Sitting, legs crossed, in the middle of the floor, was Rick Schwagger. He got up as we went in. Though he and Teef were the same age, in stark contrast to the Boulders’ guitarist, the skin on his face was smooth and unblemished.
‘Screw me, is this him?’ he said, gesturing in my direction. ‘I was expecting some ink-spot type with thick glasses.’ He swivelled round to face Teef. ‘Take a quick shufti at this one, he looks a bloody sight better than you do, Teef. It’s time you got yourself a quick lift,’ he said, patting his own deceptively youthful cheeks. He sat down.
‘Nah,’ Teef replied, ‘my fans are used to me like I am. Snip and tuck’s not really my style, Quick.’ ‘Your style, Teef ? Right. Give us a quick clue about what sort of style that might be? A style much loved by old age pensioners? Right. Come on, give me a quick answer. Is that what they are, your fans, these weirdos you give a quick mention to whenever I see you? Are they a bunch of pensioners, zombies and necrophiliacs? Let’s ask my friends The Handyman and Bendy here what they think? Give us a quick opinion of this fan base Teef ’s always so keen to talk about.’
Instinctively I defended Teef: ‘I’m sure all kinds of people are fans of Teef.’
The Handyman, who was standing behind Quick, looked at me in alarm. He shook his head and waved discreetly with his palm open, warning me to change tack. Quick stiffened and glared at me, then slowly and melodramatically stood up, put his hands on his hips, and pursed his lips.
‘No one told me you was a lippy one,’ he said. ‘What you have to understand, Mister Bendy, is that when you come here, I’m the one with the lips. Maybe,’ he continued, turning towards The Handyman, ‘trying on those special cricket pads of mine for a minute or two would help Mister Bendy understand better how things are done.’
‘Aw, Quick,’ said The Handyman, ‘no cause to go getting out the pads. I’d hate to see you and Bendy get off to a bad start. You know how long it’s took to find someone to write your ‘auto’biography. He’s brought a couple of pages of notes he’s made… he’s managed to contact someone who remembers you from school. Show him what you’ve brought, Bendy.’
Quick snatched the notes from me, and while he glanced at them The Handyman mouthed the word ‘percentages’ at me. After about half a minute Quick gazed up at the ceiling, and Teef gave me a further hint by moving his hand in front of his mouth to encourage me to speak.
‘Can I just ask how you see the percentages from the book working out?’ I asked.
Quick lowered his eyes, and then glanced around as though searching the room to identify who had spoken, before setting his gaze on me. ‘Who was it mentioned percentages? Was it you, Mister Bendy? That’s better. This is something we need to come to an understanding about. If books are anything like music, we’ll have to be quick off the mark or the middlemen will take most of the bread. Quick as a flash they are. So the author needs to make f ’in’ sure he maximises his return. We need a regular agent who’ll get us a good deal, not some quick mover who grabs all the cash. Anyone got any ideas? If you have, quick, let’s hear ’em.’
I thought Quick must have meant me when he used the word ‘author’, but he continued: ‘Of course that’s fine for me, me being the author of my ‘auto’biography. What you get paid, Bendy, for using your psychic ’fluences and making the marks on paper, is something you’ll have to sort out for yourself. I don’t want it coming out of my share. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, having your magic crystals, potions and all that sort of crap to work with. P’raps you can come to some arrangement with the publisher for your cut. You’re lucky having the old sixth sense. Suppose it saves you from needing to work hard for a living like I have to.’
‘That’s not fair, Quick,’ Teef said. ‘If Bendy’s writing the book, he’s the one who should have the author’s share.’
Quick glanced around the room, again pretending not to know who had spoken. ‘My ears must be going funny; for a minute I thought I heard Teef express an opinion. Of course he can’t have. He knows perfectly well that when it’s down to him an’ me, I’m the one who does the vocals. Well, glad to have met you Bendy. I’ll leave you to sort out contracts and all that. The Handyman will take care of my interests. Got to be going…just time for a quick spruce up then off to a party in Mayfair. Don’t suppose you get invited to many parties in Mayfair, do you Teef ? No? Thought not. See you all some time… unless, Bendy, you’ve got any other quick questions?’
‘I was wondering when might you be able to spare some time to tell me be a bit of your life story, since essentially that is what I’m supposed to be writing.’
‘Busy over the next few months. Anyway, the whole point of getting you in was that you’re supposed to be gifted, so you could find everything out from your Ouija board or whatever, without taking my time up with a bloody interrogation. Probably see you next when the book’s finished. Want it done quick, mind. Understand?’
With that he left the room, followed by The Handyman. Teef got up and went to the door to make sure they were out of earshot, then asked me, in a half-whisper, ‘Bendy, did you bring me any gear?’
‘Really sorry, Teef, but The Handyman is so suspicious. He wanted to search the holdall, and as soon as he saw the maracas he knew what they were for. I did sneak these in for you though.’ I gave him the miniature bottles of Jack Daniel’s.
‘Oh Bendy, terrific, you’re a real good mate. He took them over to the sideboard, where a quart size, but almost empty, Jack Daniel’s bottle stood on a tray. He opened the miniatures in turn and emptied the contents into it. Then, so as not to waste the tiniest drop, he filled the miniatures with mineral water and replaced the tops. ‘I think you’ve earned yourself another little music lesson. Forget the maracas, lot of good they did. This time, since we’re mates now, you can have a go on one of my favourite guitars.’
How different he was from Quick. Despite all his years of rock stardom, Teef was never arrogant or rude. He had me sit beside him on the sofa, where he placed his valuable instrument, a Fender guitar, in my hands. ‘Be careful with it, Bendy. I’ve always taken good care of it, like a proper musician should. Don’t understand performers who show off by mistreating their kit. Quality equipment deserves respect.’ Teef carefully positioned the fingers of my left hand on the neck of his instrument. ‘Now, try a few strokes lower down with your right hand. Gently now. That’s nice, isn’t it, Bendy?’
‘Oh yes, Teef.’
‘Good, now try another position,’ he said, and rearranged my fingers. ‘Use the plectrum, a bit firmer now with the right hand, follow my rhythm, one… two… three… four… See? We’re making music together now, you and me, aren’t we Bendy?’
Regrettably, shortly after we had found our rhythm, the dinner gong sounded downstairs and we had to break off. How sweet of him to teach a novice like me a little basic strumming. He looked disappointed when The Handyman came in and said, ‘Come on Teef, dinner time. I don’t want to have to tell Quick what you and Bendy have been getting up to. You know he wouldn’t like it.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. All I was doing was showing Bendy my guitar. Where’s the harm in that?’
‘It’s what you might be leading up to. I’ll say a couple of things. First of all, we’ve somehow found ourselves a gay bloke whose got a boyfriend, doesn’t play around or do drugs. No, Teef, it’s true, I’m not joking. Second, you remember, if anything is going on, you might as well own up. I’ll find out anyway, you can be sure of it.’
‘What, have you got something against me making a bit of music with a mate? So, that’s the first point and the second, what about the third?’
‘They’ll have to do you. There’s no third.’
‘Well, you should have one. Rounds things off better when there’s a third.’
The Handyman smiled. ‘Does you good having a session with Bendy, doesn’t it? Sharpens you up. Come on you,’ he said, glancing towards me and jerking his head towards the door.
Reluctantly I obeyed. On the way home The Handyman again had me sit next to him in the passenger seat of the car. ‘Well, you finally got to meet Quick. Had me worried, standing up for Teef against him like you did. Always been a lot of rivalry between them. Never ever interfere in their quarrels. Best advice I can give you is this. If Quick actually gets as far as bringing the cricket pads out, pick up your coat and bag and make a run for it. Typical of him to want to keep all the cash. I have been wondering, has anyone paid you for what you’ve done so far?’
‘What is there to pay me for? The book is still nowhere.’
‘You worry too much. We’ll think of a way round it. Better have this,’ he said, throwing a thick envelope onto my lap. ‘You know that Quick goes off his head on a little drop of beer or half a tab of anything, so we buy pills and capsules in the health food shop and pretend they’re the real stuff. Well, I can’t hand over what’s supposed to be a couple of weeks’ supply of hard drugs and say that’ll be fifteen pounds eighty-five, can I? So I put in for the street price for the real thing. You might as well have the proceeds this time. You deserve something, your visits to Teef really have done him good.’
I lifted the flap of the envelope and saw a wad of twenty pound notes. ‘I don’t know if I should take this.’
‘Who’s going to be the one in trouble if any questions are asked? All you have to say is I gave you some cash for the work you’ve done so far. For fuck’s sake, Bendy, you’ve got no idea, have you? This is nothing compared to what goes on when they’re on tour. Far more money than that goes down as hospitality expenses, no one asks for details. In a second-hand bookshop everything might be counted down to the last penny, but not if you’re working with The Rocking Boulders.
‘Now Quick has accepted you for doing his ‘auto’biography, I need to talk to various people who handle the business side. By the way, you might like to know you’re the fourth one we’ve tried for the book. None of the others got this far. The first bloke was up to no good, he was hiding a little digital recorder. I could see him fiddling about with it in his pocket. As soon as the sneaky bastard got back in the car I searched him, found it and wiped everything. The next one turned up with his pockets full of pills… he didn’t get as far as the villa. The last one kept turning the conversation to what went on offstage when the boys were touring. Turned out to be a newspaper hack. Quick would have had the cricket pads on him if I hadn’t chucked him out first. Anyway, most people come off a lot worse from their first run in with Quick than you did. Leave it to me to fix things up. Take that money and sleep well tonight, you and that boyfriend of yours.’
Alicia was delighted to hear that I had at last met Rick. She attributed my progress, limited as it was, to the influence of her current fad, low-frequency energy fields. She had read, on the California Clairvoyants’ website, that they could be used to cure chronic illness, and researchers had discovered that the fields not only acted as a store of past events, but could also influence the present and future. It all made sense, she argued, because what is happening now, and what will happen in the future, all depend on what has happened already in the past. While she was telling me this, my eyes kept straying to the new adornments she had added to her current favourite hat, the beige trilby: a pair of imitation humming birds on springy wires. The slightest movement of her head set them into iridescent oscillation.
Eventually she let me turn our conversation to Rick’s contacts with the Oracles of Aten in the nineteen-sixties. I wrote down every scrap of information she could remember, and borrowed a copy of the cult’s book. This was more like a historical novel set in ancient Egypt than a religious tract. The style was contrived: deliberately flouting the rules of grammar, full of words that were nonsensical or inappropriate, with a sprinkling of weird pseudo-biblical phrases, and the plot, about intrigue in the pharaoh’s entourage, was very routine. Here is a typical extract:
Verily, the Pharaoh lustfully ebonyed his royalty beard, as he strolled roundly cornering the pillars of temple erection . In the many journeyings and desert traverses of the Pharaoh’s son Aken, laden as he and his followers were by countless manifold trappings of most-high status, his purpose being the viewing of the many eclectically dedicated monuments, which includeth pyramids, lotus-pilloried temples, squarely rising occult obelisks, carved and painted entrances conveyancing the order of all things in the upper and lower kingdoms from the most High Priestess of Isis to the lowliest animal tethered to the service of the most wretched slave, from the heights of the much labouringly-hewn cliffs of Aswan to the smallest grain of desert sand, all that Aken’s eyes had beholden could not still the stirring in his royal breast of a restless yearning which drove him ever outwardly onwards in his quest for knowledge and consort with his worshipful people.
Reading it was like wading through congealed porridge. Twenty pages of this mind-bending prose made me want to fling the book on the floor and stamp on it. Maybe it was written like that to put the sect’s adherents off studying it, so that those in charge could make up any rules they wanted without being challenged.
Dale and I decided to call another meeting to work out how to make better progress with Rick’s book. Jeremy contacted Loyd and asked him to join us, even though Alicia had not forgiven his attack on her idol Simone de Boudoir.
Otherwise life at Fulrose Court and in the shops continued as before. Routine tasks like keying in details of Jeremy’s latest acquisitions for the internet shop were reassuringly simple, in contrast to the unpredictability of everything to do with The Rocking Boulders. We now had over a thousand books listed online, and the profit from internet sales was enough to cover half my wages.
One day, while updating the list, I heard the shop doorbell ring and had to break off in mid-entry. Jayde, of my old neighbours the Jays, was approaching the counter. ‘Hello, you’re looking well, Ben,’ she said. She wore a skirt, something I had never before seen her in before. She smiled in an obviously forced way.
‘Thanks. You too. How are things?’ I asked.
‘Can I talk to you?’
‘Yes, of course. What about?’
‘Not here. Somewhere private. What time are you going for lunch?’
Half an hour later we bought sandwiches and took them to the little park about five minutes walk
away, where we found a bench near a deep border of daffodils. Following a few casual remarks, punctuated by awkward silences, she said, ‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you. I’m having a baby.’ ‘Are you? Congratulations,’ I said, surprised.
‘The thing is, I think you’re the father.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t try coming over all innocent.’
‘There’s something I’m not quite following here. I’m gay, remember?’
‘No, like, you remember. Don’t try pretending you don’t know what happened. That won’t work with me. Before Christmas Jake and me brought you back from that fetish club we all went to. When we got to Toby’s flat you wanted to go to bed straight away. Me and Jake got in with you and gave you a really nice time. It’s no good saying you can’t remember.’
She obviously meant the night they had drugged me and I ended up with that awful hangover. ‘I was completely out of it that night, and not because of anything I did to myself. Someone doped me, on purpose. You could say anything about that night. How could I deny it?’
‘You knew what you were doing. You enjoyed yourself all right. You had me, and you had Jake too, you couldn’t get enough of us. You’ve turned him queer, you cunt, he’s as bad as you and Toby now.’
‘Thanks a lot. Talking of Jake, isn’t the baby likely to be his?’
‘It can’t be. He’s had a vasectomy.’
My private parts had been tender the next morning; so I must have had sex with someone, but that did not prove her baby was mine. Was she after money? For a few minutes we sat in silence. She obviously wanted to make trouble. I kept cool and asked, ‘Does Jake know?’
‘Never mind about him. You and your boyfriend are doing all right aren’t you? You’re both working. You’ve got to do what’s right by the baby. I don’t want to drag you through the courts, but I will if I have to.’
DNA tests could show whether the child was mine, but until the truth was known I would have to be careful what I said. For all I knew she might be going to half a dozen other potential fathers and saying the same thing. She was not at all like she used to be, interested only in having a good time. ‘What do you expect me to say?’ I asked.
Having no ready answer, after another lengthy pause she said, ‘You’ll be hearing from my solicitors. Count on it.’
I was worried and upset, but determined not to show it. I shrugged, got up, threw my half-eaten sandwich in the bin, and walked away.