Anyhow, Ronny continued, I wondered what it could be that was causing all this excitement
So? She was rolling her eyes, plainly fatigued.
A freak, Ronny said, clearly relishing the single syllable.
Lily stopped rolling. What do you mean?
In the window. In a little glass case. An exhibit.
Lily stopped rolling. What do you mean?
In the window. In a little glass case. An exhibit.
Lily quickly sat down next to him. He, in turn, pushed himself up on to his elbows. A little beast, he added.
What?
Ronnys breath smelled of acid. His teeth were white, white. Lily steadied herself, preparing for some kind of a wind-up.
A little beast in a glass case. For sale.
A beast? Lily loved this word.
Ronny lay back down again.
And so? she prompted.
Ronny sighed. A postcard at the front of the case said: The Cobham Beast. That was his name. Thats what they had called him. I imagine that he mustve come from a place called Cobham but Ive never heard of it.
I have, Lily nearly choked in her excitement.
Really? He turned to look at her.
Yes. I have an aunt who lives there. It isnt very far from here.
She was excited, a part of the story now.
And what did it look like, this beast? she asked with some agitation.
Like nothing Id ever seen before.
How big?
Small. Like a rabbit, but upright.
And it wasnt a fake?
No. Absolutely not. But it had the loveliest, the sweetest face Ive ever seen. A trusting face, full of gentleness.
Furry?
Short fur.
Black?
No. Brown. But it stood on its hind legs, like a small person, a baby, only it had four legs and two little arms.
A beast!
Lily lay flat on her back and gazed at the stars. Her heart was red outside and all clogged up at its centre like a ripe ball of Edam.
So what do you think it actually was? she said, finally.
Ronny shrugged. I dont know. Itself.
She liked this answer.
But I had no money to buy it Ronny sighed.
How much?
It didnt say. A lot, I imagine. So I stole it.
She sat up. Youre kidding!
Ronny sat up too.
No. I dont kid.
How?
I went back at night with a brick. I smashed it and then grabbed it and then legged it.
Lily loved him then. It was as though a gorgeous butterfly had landed on her breastbone, its fragile antennae all aquiver.
So what did you do with it?
Ronny rubbed his stomach with his left hand. Well, I wasnt living anywhere at the time so I scratched my name into the wood on the side of the display case, put it inside a cardboard box and left it with a man I know at the Lost Property Office at Baker Street. I thought it would be safe there. And, whats more important, it wouldnt be on display.
You didnt want people to see it?
No. Never again.
Why not?
Ronny stood up. Because, he said, offering her his left hand, hed needed understanding and hed received none. I wanted to protect him. I saw myself in him.
Lily smiled and took Ronnys hand. He pulled her up and then let go. She had expected his touch to be a real delight, but instead it was cold. Icy, in fact. Like the hand of a dead man.
Once hed got it home, the box immediately became just another part of the furniture. He placed his beer bottles upon it when he lounged on the sofa watching TV. The phone was temporarily balanced on top of it. A magazine, a paper, a listings guide. Stuff. But he wasnt hiding anything. Not at all. It was right there, wasnt it? Margery had brushed up against it several times and had even gone and laddered her stocking on a protruding staple. Yes. So shed been fully aware of its sudden materialization, surely?
Surely. Yet Margery didnt think to enquire about the box. She simply let it ride. There are no secrets here, Nathan thought, righteously. No secrets. It ]ust fitted. The box.
And inside? Inside?
Nathan had retrieved Connies card from the top of it. Then hed paused for a moment, slipped the card into his pocket and kneeled down to touch the box, carefully exploring the texture of the smooth brown tape which sealed it so well and protected its corners. Slippery. He felt it with his finger. His index finger.
Then he found himself doing something stranger still. He leaned forward and applied his tongue, his tongue to the tape. He licked it. He withdrew again. Salty. Synthetic. Soapy. He discovered there was no denying it that hed developed a powerful erection. A. Powerful. Erection. What? He blinked. He found himself thinking couldnt stop it, couldnt how beautiful this closed tight thing was. This sealed thing. This secret. This hidden. This sticky tape. How beautiful this closed tight thing. Was.
No. He gasped. Oh no. He drank four stiff brandies. One, two, three, four. All in a row. Then he steadied himself and didnt look at the box again.
Twenty
Connie was sleeping. But not properly. Intermittently. And she was dreaming. She was dreaming of a journey, of an island, of a place on the edge of everything. Kitty, her mother, tucked the clean blue duvet under Connies chin. She picked up the empty teacup from the bedside table, straightened the rug, returned the doctors chair to its niche under the desk. On the desk were some papers, and letters.
Ronny,
Everythings fruity. Fruity and plush and flowery. I am well. I am celebrating. Heres what happened. Louis and I went on a trip with Monty and two of Montys friends to see the worlds largest flower, Rafflesia arnoldii. Its something of a botanical celebrity in these parts and Louis was taking his camera to get a few shots of it in bloom. It blooms in August. In July it ripens and clusters and glistens. In August it blares like a trumpet.
And I would stand next to it, Louis said, to give his shots a sense of proportion. I had no choice in the matter. We desperately need the money he raises from these bread and butter jobs to keep the whole investigative kit and caboodle on track. Anyway, Louis was determined that I should come along. Ive been hanging around in the bat cave but more of that later so was slightly niggled at the neccessity of spoiling my routine. Wont Monty do? I asked. I mean if its only proportion youre after?
But no. Louis was emphatic. In fact he even demanded that I bring a hairbrush and some lipstick along for the ride. We would be two bright flowers together, he chuckled. But there would be no competition. I would be the lesser flower. I would be the unripe bloom, the pale imitation, the pansy, the wallflower, the weed.
Well, you know me, Ronny.
We travelled by bus, initially. It was packed at first but then it emptied, until finally just our foursome and the driver remained on board. Whole segments of road had been washed away in the floods. We bumped and gyrated. We shuddered and bucked. I was too hot. It was hell. I opened my knapsack to dredge up an aspirin and pulled my hand out puce. The lipstick had melted. My bags interior was like the skewed belly of a calf half ravaged by some wild beast. And my arm was a vulture, dip, dip, dipping. Pecking and schmoozing in its ruby guts.
The road was peppered with pot-holes, some so large the bus could hardly have filled them. At one particularly giant one, our driver slowed down and then ground to a halt.
The road was peppered with pot-holes, some so large the bus could hardly have filled them. At one particularly giant one, our driver slowed down and then ground to a halt.
What is it?
I clambered to the front. It was no mere hole, but a crater, and way too deep to negotiate. We needed to sidestep it. But in the measly straggle of road that remained lay a snake. A small python. And he was writhing, but not naturally.
Oh my God, did we hit it?
Louis, already at the front, merely shrugged. He was thinking about the flower and how the light wouldnt be with us for an infinite duration. The snake arced and fell, arced and fell. Its neck was cock-angled, its jaw slack.
Did we hit it? I asked the driver. He only frowned. Louis cleared his throat and suggested, quite calmly, that we drive on over it.
We could get over easy, he said, if we steer with care. The wheels are widely spaced.
I couldnt abide the idea. I couldnt tolerate even the slightest possibility of damaging it further. Cant we just move it instead? I asked, away from the road with a stick or something?
Monty laughed.
The snake kept dancing its gruesome dance. I spoke to Louis again. We should shoot it. Monty has a gun. Let him kill it.
No. Its protected.
But hes killed protected creatures before, hasnt he?
Louis gave me a bad look. He turned to Monty. Tell the driver to go over it.
He put his hand in his wallet and jangled. Money.
No, I said, let me at least try to move it.
Louis caught hold of my arm. He had the snakes grip. He would squeeze me and devour me. And just for a photo. The driver started up the engine. Coins rattled a little tattoo in his pocket. I closed my eyes tightly, feeling every bump and judder. And once we were over, I ran to the back of the bus.
Louis didnt twitch a whisker. He had his light detector out. The lights all fucked, he kept saying. And through the dusty back window I saw the snake, on the road, but not dancing, its tail now crushed but still living. Only its middle moving, like a skipping rope. Kind of scything. Either-ended. A terrible, mud-stuck, tyre-tracked U-bend. And my hands were red as blood, like Id dipped them in his injury, Ronny. Like Id washed them in him.
We got to the spot. The flower was one great, big love-in. Its white horn, its giant throat, the focus of a thousand insects, marching and buzzing and jumping and swanking. I stood next to the bloom. It dwarfed me. I was its ugly little sister. A rat to its sex-kitten. My throat was still tight, like that python was draped right around it. I would have my revenge. I would, I would. I made a vicious little promise to myself in that flowers dark shadow.
Louis was suddenly very obliging. Did he feel bad? Monty and his chums had disappeared for a while. They had other fish to fry. He asked me to tuck my red hands behind my back. He took a shot. He took several. One at each and every angle. You know what? I said eventually, having timed it, having bided my time, maybe it would be nice if you took a snap or two of yourself. You could send them to your wife and to Lucy. (his daughter)