Chapter 12

Dale listened closely to my account of Jayde's accusation. He then, of course, had to know the full details of that wretched night when the Jays had shagged me in Toby's flat. He must have wondered how anyone could stumble their way into such a daft situation. However he did not criticize, but shook his head, and uttered a long 'H-u- u- u -mph' sound. Then he said quietly. 'Her whole story sounds like bullshit. That one night was the only time when you might, just possibly, have impregnated her?'

'Yes.'

'The odds must be against it. And Jake may have had a vasectomy, but you've told me that the Jays had an open relationship, so any of her other bedmates could be the lucky man. It sounds like a story made up to screw money out of you.'

'Can she really be that evil? I suppose it's possible, but if what she says is true the thought of having to pay up every week until the child grows up is very worrying. What happened that night wasn't my fault. They spiked my drink.'

'You can't prove that. Let's forget about being tricked by Jayde and her being after your money for a minute ... suppose she is pregnant and the child is yours ... in your heart, would you be pleased, or sorry?'

'Having a child by Jayde? What do you think?'

'Well, you're not going to have one by me, are you? Try seeing it from another perspective. Wouldn't the child be lucky to have a kind and sensitive man like you for a father?'

'You're joking. I'm like a sodding child myself half the time.'

'Is that seeing it from another perspective?'

I turned the question back on him. 'What about you, would you like to have a child?'

'For lots of people the children are what they live for. Having kids is their big achievement in life. It's not an easy decision for us to make, having no mum and two gay dads might be difficult for a kid, and this situation with Jayde is not a good context for thinking about it. We've never talked about what you and I want in life, though, have we? Not that I'm unhappy with the way we are, but what are the long term possibilities, not only whether kids might be part of what we do, but what about having HIV tests so we could stop using condoms if we both want to be faithful? Or should we think about a civil partnership? We would both need to be completely sure to make that kind of commitment. Even then, there is the risk that responsibilities and constraints might take the fun out of what we've got. We might be happier as we are.'

Anything that would bring us closer together sounded good, but how long would we last? Expecting too much too soon could invite calamity. I said, 'I haven't been with anyone else since we got together.'

'Nor me.'

'Does anyone at work ask, you know, if you're with anyone?'

'Yes, a few times. I've been saying I'm spoken for. If they're interested, I tell them about you.'

Maybe that was enough commitment-making for one day. We fell silent for a minute or two. Then, no longer serious, he said, 'So you haven't been with anyone, but I hope you won't mind me asking ... have you had any offers?'

This was a leading question. If I said yes, lots, it would sound like I had been deliberately leading people on. If I said no, then it would sound like my faithfulness was a result of lack of opportunity. I said, 'A couple of people looked like they might be interested. Has anyone been after you?'

'Not a soul. Guess I'd better try to hang on to you.'

A letter from The Rocking Boulders' management company arrived the next day. It commissioned me to provide professional services pursuant to the completion of an autobiography of Rick Schwagger. Further instructions were to be given by Andy Handman, who was authorized to supervise and give guidance on all aspects of the undertaking. A cheque for one hundred pounds was enclosed as a retainer. Any further fees and expenses were to be agreed in advance with Mr Handman.

The letter did not say that Rick's life story was expected somehow to coalesce in my mind out of the ether, but neither did it suggest any more practical way forward. Whilst I liked The Handyman and his earthy outlook, he was an odd choice to give supervision and guidance on putting together a biography. I showed the letter to Jeremy, who studied it for a minute or two, then asked, 'The retainer, they enclosed a cheque?'

'Yes.'

I took it from the envelope and held it out for him to see. He said, 'Good, you still have it. Hold on to it. Until you accept money, you've not committed yourself to anything. It gives us time to think.' He read the letter again and smiled ruefully. 'I've liked having you here in the shop, but it's your future that counts. I won't try to hold you back. Have to say I'm not a fan of The Rocking Boulders' music. Jazz has always appealed to me more. I could once sing one or two of the old standards, a passable rendition, and given the chance I used to do so at parties. All a long while ago, of course.'

'I was hoping somehow to fit this in as well as working for you. The Rocking Boulders are so unpredictable, and they still think that the book can somehow be written through extra-sensory perception. I'll never be able to write it all on my own. You write all sorts of stuff, business letters and so on, so does Dale. I know you're busy, but is there any chance of you helping me out?'

'Would The Rocking Boulders accept me being involved?'

'Would they have to know?'

'Professional services are what this letter requires of you. I suppose that might allow calling on others for help. This book project for Rick Schwagger has a surreal quality that appeals to me. We did talk about holding another meeting, but we haven't fixed a date yet. I have mentioned it to Loyd, and he says he'll come along, though like me he's not sure how Alicia will react to him being there. I hope she's not going to harp on about low-frequency energy fields all the time. If you give me some dates when you and Dale are free, I'll speak to Alicia and Loyd.'

We set the meeting up for Tuesday in the following week.

The Sunday before we met, newspaper headlines announced that Rick Schwagger was to receive a knighthood. He was the sole rock star to be honoured among a motley group of celebrities, including a stand-up comic, an ex-pole-vaulter, a horse breeder and a pastry chef. None of the others were to receive anything as elevated as a knighthood. On Monday evening The Handyman collected me and took me to The Rocking Boulders' villa. 'We should find Quick at home again. Best not to say anything about the palace or his gong, ' he said.

'Why not?'

'The newspapers have been making a lot of it, especially since no hint of it leaked out earlier, but they've not sniffed out any scandal so far. I've heard a story that's going round about what really happened. If I tell you, don't drop me in the shit by repeating it to anyone, especially not Quick, will you?'

'No, of course not.'

'This is supposed to have come from an equerry, via a stable boy at the palace. Word is Quick got off with a lady-in-waiting at a party he went to in Belgravia. She invited him into Buck House and up to her room. Silly cow let him have half a bottle of champagne. As you know he can't cope with drink. Well, after a bit of hanky-panky with the high-class bird, Quick staggers off into the State Rooms and falls asleep on a sofa. Cleaner sees him, thinks he must be one of the family's hangers-on having a nap, and covers him up with the ceremonial cloak that what's-her-name wears when she dishes out the gongs. The cleaner wasn't to know he'd had half a bottle of champagne and would be out of it for hours. Anyway after a while herself comes in, and, well, you can imagine, her equerry reaches out for her togs, but ... no bloody ceremonial cloak on the hook. They say she's getting forgetful, and one of the corgis has been trained to sniff about and find any clobber she's mislaid, so the dog runs round, finds the cloak with Quick lying underneath it, gives his leg a sharp nip, he lets out a scream, and the corgi runs off with the cloak back to her in charge.

'She goes over to Quick and asks what the fuck he's doing there, but her main worry is he'll make a stink about being bitten by the dog. So, to avoid giving the tabloids another scandal to bash the royals with, they decide to add Quick's name to the honours list and pretend he'd been missed off the press notice by accident. Don't let on to anyone about this. It's a story that's going round, it might all be bollocks.'

'Okay, Ma'am's the word.'

'What's that, Bendy?'

'It was a joke. Since we're talking about her in charge, I said Ma'am's the word, not Mum's the word.'

'Don't think I'm with you.'

This was the man who was to give me guidance on writing Quick's 'auto'biography. 'Forget it.'

At the villa, going into the upstairs sitting room, I said cheerfully, 'Hi Quick, hi Teef.'

Quick responded in an offended tone, 'I think a quick apology is in order here. You're not keeping up with the news, Bendy. Surely you must have heard. I am now Sir Quick, if you don't mind.'

Teef said, 'Don't overdo it, Quick.'

'Was that Mister Teef esquire who just spoke? Should a mere common guitar plucker be talking to a knighted person without first asking permission? Give us a quick opinion, Mister Handyman and Mister Bendy?' He glared at each of us in turn, but we said nothing. He pulled a face. 'What's the matter with you lot?' he asked. 'You should know me well enough to know when I'm joking. I only accepted the bloody gong because some well-past-their-best-days so-called bloody rock and rollers have been going around pretending they're better than me. Anyway, reason I've hung about here is to ask you, Bendy, when you will be giving me a quick dekko at my autobiography? You've been working on it for at least a couple of weeks now. It must be more or less finished.'

'Now you are having a joke. If you give me a regular half-hour slot to talk to you a couple of times a week, I could make progress. It needn't even be face to face. We could talk over the phone.'

'Don't start that again. I've already told you I'm too busy, and that the book has to be done quick. That was the whole point of bringing in a psychic. You're sure psychic is what you are, not psychotic?' He said this with a sneer, though he may have intended it to be funny.

The Handyman intervened. 'That's not nice, a psychotic's someone who's mentally disturbed. Bendy's all right, I've checked him out. If you give him a rough time and he walks off, don't expect me to go searching for somebody else.'

'All right, all right. Don't start ganging up on me. Actually, you could say having a sixth sense is being mentally disturbed, in a way. It can't be natural, can it? What you need to understand, Bendy, is this: Teef, The Handyman, and Alicia have all assured me you're the right man to do my autobiog. The public has been begging for a proper book about me for years, so I am requesting politely that you get your pen out quick and start making marks on paper. Quick as you can. Got it? Especially now the palace has given me some well-deserved official recognition. And I don't want no funny made-up stories being put in it neither. A bit of respect is due, so no more of the old sideways glances and quick snide remarks behind my back. Well, I can't hang about. Been invited to stay at a stately home for a quick few days hunting. Don't suppose you get many invitations to the hunt, do you Teef? No? Thought not. Of course, now I'm Sir Rick Schwagger, expect I'll be invited to all the high class social gatherings. Good thing about the nobs, if the weather's bad you can go indoors where they have the servants and plenty of rooms for having a good time in. Well, tally-ho, as we say in the country.'