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Chapter 14
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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
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 21
Four months passed and, as Britain geared up for a general election - a fetid stink of one at that - Lala was still lost in drink, and her episodes required more and more drugs to bring them under control. One night she awoke in a padded room in Cadillac, wearing a straitjacket, and seeing only a fog which coated everything. It had all been a blur since the funeral. Episodes of in and out, and Sèdonoudè’s worried eyes. And, the worried eyes of the taciturn Serge, who worried that if Lala now died as well, there was no guarantee he would not be evicted from the cottage on the estate’s grounds where he had made his life. Teddy’s false promise was not legally binding. Once Lala came home, stabilized by drugs, therapy, and rest from her destructive lifestyle, her friends came and went as before. Sèdonoudè toyed with the idea of going back to Mali to see his aging parents but knew that such a journey carried with it too many risks. Those of obligation: would his pity for his le
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 23
In what seemed like such a short time, because a lifetime runs deceptively fast, Lala’s life circumstances had undergone dramatic change. Her Teddy had died, and the settled status of European affairs had begun to be trashed by nationalists of the kind long thought rid of in gentle Britain. She followed the twists and turns on the radio, relayed by Porsche’s blustering, schoolboy pomposity, as wave after wave of them told lies and half-truths and were believed. It did not help with her insanity, which was always there, waiting to erupt, and got worse with each episode, which were then followed by long bouts of alternate shaking and catatonia. The drink did not, could not help. She heard no more from Baden - the Tories had won their election, after shoving the hapless Mrs May aside in favour of a lethal clown - and he was busy laying down plans of action for when the inevitable call to high office came. He had won through loyalty to the Brexit cause, in a carefully con
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