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Chapter 12
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Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 13
Teddy lay on the hospital bed with the poison coursing through his veins. It is how a person dies. A withering poison turning their insides to stone. Lala sat beside him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was heavily drugged. She thought about him and their life together, the long years of chaos and sometimes harmony, and never imagined, not even for a moment, that she would see him lying there like this. A nurse entered the private room on the fifth floor of the Institut Bergoniè, closing the door almost silently behind her, leaving just a little click hanging in the air. She offered a sympathetic smile, which, once she decided she liked the look of her, Lala returned. Even the monitors were on low in the room, which was full of clutter: flowers, fruit, coats, bags. A traveller’s court. The nurse checked the absepto case connections, and the dial on the pump which controlled the flow of drugs. Teddy grimaced, though still asleep, when she gently wrapped t
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 14
The Other LetterThe writing on the front of the envelope was barely legible, and Baden presumed that it can have only arrived at his home because the staff at the post office in Big Cidering knew his name and could make out some of the postcode. Baden opened it impatiently. der Jermyi wont to let u no I am finking about you. i sor you on the telly i beleeve in wot you say on the telly and wont to suppot u i am fed up with the way are country is going can u send me sum money i wont tell anyone about what we did in france i promis yors Billy ‘What’s that?’ Jeremy dropped his hand guiltily, crumpling the letter at his side, unconsciously willing it to disappear.‘Oh, nothing. Just a letter from a constituent. Wants more done about beggars in the shopping precinct.’ Eloquentia lost interest and carried on fussing with a vase she had just filled with flowers. She turned it left and right on the marble surface of the French Empire console, searching for its bes
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 15
Teddy came home in an ambulance. Lala, Sèdonoudè, Quentin, Arabella Cameron, and a private nurse, stood on the stone steps which led up to the front door of Chateau Nullepart. It was hardly Lord Marchmain’s return to die in his ancestral home (and Teddy, though gravely ill, was not yet in extremis), but he was nonetheless touched by the gesture. The ambulance driver and his mate, officious looking in navy-blue, almost paramilitary style attire, carefully slid the rolling stretcher through the ambulance’s back door. Teddy had lost weight. The ambulanciers had little difficulty lifting the stretcher up the steps and setting it back down in the hallway. The wheels rolled on the marble tiles in front of the double stairway, a feature of the house which had always been Teddy’s favourite, and into the wood panelled dining room which had always been his second favourite. Suddenly all those memories came back to him. The long wooden table dressed in 80s gold plate and cutle
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 16
In the cyber-land he had created for himself, Billy O’Leary was becoming more and more unhinged. His life of transience, of crime, the abuse he had suffered as a child, were an easy reservoir to draw upon. He entered deeper and deeper into a world of the dark side of the web, visiting sites where death was uploaded in real time. Middle Eastern and Mexican head choppers, or imaginative amateurs, tortured and mutilated their victims without conscience. The videos they made travelled fast around the bands of communication, and were watched by young men and women, some of whom, like Billy, were not quite right in the head. They grew inured to suffering the way a tree slowly grows, incrementally, until what was once a seed easily lost upon barren ground, becomes fixed in the most fertile part of it. Solid, immovable, vast, all encompassing, until it covers in shadows the alternative shoots of opportunity. Having won their referendum, the engineering rats were scurrying for power.
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 17
Teddy, like most people who had access to it, had become sucked into an internet world. Again, for most, it was a welcome distraction from work, chores, duties, the general ennui of life. In Teddy’s case it was a distraction from death. He had accepted his fate as much as any can, notwithstanding the bouts of bitterness in knowing that no matter how well we have played it (not that Teddy had) it is life itself which cheats us in the end. His simple acts of resistance were each day, with the help of his nurse, to get out of bed and hobble across the wooden parquet of his dining room floor, now polished to a high shine, and sit in a wicker-work chair from the turn of the 18th Century, at a round, black marble topped Empire table from around the same time. His battered, old blue Lenovo laptop sat on top, the battery of which had long ceased to function, and now had to be plugged in to work. A heavy jar or glass or book had to be placed just so against the lead component,
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 18
Billy rang the doorbell. The ring sounded loud inside the massive white house, even behind the heavy, pastel pink painted door. Billy had slipped in unobserved - the estate was named Gormwell, and it was surrounded by a low drystone wall - for the sleepy, bucolic fields and villages of Big Cidering were hardly ever troubled by interlopers of any kind. Clearly, Billy had not understood what was expected of him when Bumford had asked him to ‘case the joint’. When Baden opened the door and found a surly, straggly, unkempt rat of a man who he recognised but could not exactly place, he failed to hide his shock. Normally, Baden epitomised what it meant to be nonplussed, but his mouth popped open in an ‘O’ shape, his eyes widened so that the grey-blue irises, surrounded with watery, milky white sclera bulged as the spat word, ‘What!’ forced itself through lips not quite prepared to utter it. Composing himself he continued, outraged, ‘What the bloody devil do you think you a
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 19
The Dinner Party The dinner party was being held in honour of Teddy’s dying. It seemed as good a way as any to say goodbye to one they’d drank and lived and loved alongside for so many years now, that the whole spectre of death seemed surreal and untrue, a distant happening that only happened to others. The Victorian dining table, which had been stashed away after Teddy’s medical bed had been installed, was put back together again, and now dominated the parquet and panels with its polished ebony veneer. It held places for sixteen, and fifteen Hepplewhite chairs upholstered in crunchy, nearly falling apart brown leather stood ready to receive the buttocks of imminent diners. In place of the sixteenth Hepplewhite chair, which had been left standing against the panelled wall, was Teddy’s favourite chair, the battered, comfy parker knoll, to allow him a less formal repose as they dined. True, it smelled unpleasant and was stained from years of spilled food and booze, bu
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 20
DeathDying, is a serious business. There is no room for laughter. Only horrible panic, as all you have in the world finally slips away. There was no room for Lala. She hid herself. In the way an alcoholic, a sex addict, a person suffering from a mental illness, might hide behind the walls of denial until the illness refuses to let itself be ignored, she hid from Teddy’s dying, guiltily and ashamed, because she could not begin to accept the finiteness of mortality. It was far too late anyway for Teddy to fret and worry about who was what and where, or who would dare to care. It was time for fear, which, as it must, affects those devoid of meaning when facing the final outcome of a life’s adventure, to play its cruel, insidious part in the time Teddy had remaining. That, and those casting eyes of regret. Lala had asked him, in one of those beautiful, shared, inebriated moments, when their thoughts rode tandem, ‘Do you have regrets, Teddy, my old Teddy, my tuppen
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