Timothy Lea's Complete Confessions. Timothy Lea

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СКАЧАТЬ come Bettina,’ he soothes, ‘your pappa is here to look after you.’ Mum’s screams must now be jamming local radio stations. They are certainly not doing anything to calm down Bettina who sinks her treacherous fangs into Renato’s thumb as he extends a rescuing hand.

      ‘Aagh!!’ The Maestro staggers back and a row of seats collapses, taking Mum and Dad with it. In the confusion Bettina tears herself free and zooms off to join her little chums aloft. Dad belts Senor Renato up the bracket and Rosie disappears.

      The last event is in many ways the most disturbing but I do not notice it until we have steered Mum into the manager’s office and started getting her outside a bottle of brandy. The show has been abandoned and Senor Renato is standing in the deserted auditorium trying to talk down his little friends who are sulking amongst the rafters. Dad is beside himself with ecstasy, having never actually connected with a blow before in his life.

      ‘He should never have tried it on with me,’ he says. ‘He was a fool to himself. He should never have done it. I showed him, didn’t I, love? I wasn’t going to have that Eyetie making you cry and getting away with it.’

      ‘You caught him in the mouth with your elbow when he turned round a bit sharpish,’ says Mum. ‘When he fell down you hit him again. Now do belt up about it. All I want to do is get away from here.’

      It is then that I notice that Rosie has beaten her to it. Leaving Mum with her hand comfortably anchored to the neck of the brandy bottle and Dad trying to explain to the manager that free seats for the next performance are something short of adequate reparation for the mental and physical anguish caused, I race out into the still-rainy night just in time to reach the turnstile as Rosie is climbing into a taxi. I shout at her but she chooses not to hear and the taxi draws away. Knickers! Sidney is going to do his nut.

      I waste valuable time hanging around for another taxi and then start running along the promenade. Every shelter is either full of tramps dossing down for the night or couples groping each other. These tableaux of fumbling lust sharpen my mind to thoughts of what is happening back at the Cromby. Will I get there in time to prevent Rosie tangling with Sam the Ram? Will Sidney be exposed in mid-grapple with some sexed-up swinger? New readers begin here.

      I charge through the doors of the Cromby and run straight into Miss Primstone who is standing by the reception looking as enthusiastic as a bloodhound that has just received an estimate for a face lift.

      ‘Have you seen Mrs Noggett?’ I pant. Miss Primstone sighs.

      ‘I believe you will find her in the ballroom.’ It is the way that she shudders on the word ‘ballroom’ that terrifies me.

      ‘And Mr Noggett?’

      ‘I believe the little boy was having teething problems, Mr Noggett is tending him upstairs.’

      ‘Good!’ Miss Primstone’s eyebrows rise. ‘I mean I’m glad Sidney is looking after him.’

      Maybe there is still time. I move with Elliot Ness swiftness to the ballroom expecting to hear orgy-type noises assaulting my ear drums. To my surprise there is only the subdued throb of music beating with a heart-like regularity. I open the door and it takes my eyes a few seconds to get used to the darkness. The whole of one wall is a gigantic screen onto which have been projected patterns and images which move slowly like drops of coloured water finding a path through packed ice. As I follow them down to floor level I become aware of shadowy shapes, glistening limbs, heaps of discarded clothing. Blimey! I am too late.

      Or am I? About the only couple performing in a vertical plane are Sam and Rosie. He is holding her to him like she is a rolled-up carpet he is transporting down a steep flight of stairs but as far as I can make out they still have their clobber on. How long this very desirable state of affairs is going to last is another matter. Sam’s pelvic region is revolving like one of those attachments available with a Black and Decker kit and Rosie is one stage away from total knicker-loss. Alack, alas, what can I do? Any second now Sidney will return from providing succour to his fledgling Noggett and Rosie’s 36A cup is not going to be the only thing that is undone. If only she was not so impetuous! Still, I suppose it runs in the family.

      ‘Having a nice time, aren’t they?’ I turn round and craggy Petheridge is at my elbow. ‘I thought I was a bit of a raver but this lot leave me standing. You’d need to turn on the sprinkler system to separate them, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘What?!’ I say, a giant ‘thinks’ bubble bursting from my nut.

      ‘I said you’d need to turn on the sprinkler system to separate them.’

      ‘Oh, yeah.’ I try and sound dead casual. ‘You mean down the end of the corridor on the third floor?’

      ‘Yes. Hey, look at those two! They’re going at it aren’t they?’

      Experienced readers will have no difficulty in knowing which two he is talking about, and my feet develop wings as I speed towards the third floor. I am belting down the long corridor when a door opens and–surprise, surprise–I am face to face with Sidney Noggett. His face is flushed and it does not look as if this is due to the strain of ministering to little Jason. I obtain this impression from the sight of the buxom red head who is patting her hair into place beside the crumpled bed.

      ‘Where’s Rosie?’ yelps Sidney, his voice combining both fear and menace.

      ‘She’s on her way,’ I shout over my shoulder, I reckon this being a fairly accurate statement of the situation. Sidney says something else but I don’t hear him because I am round the corner and flinging open the door marked ‘no admittance’.

      The inside of the room resembles the control room of a Victorian Cape Kennedy. Brass switches and cobweb-covered circuits abound and I look desperately for some instructions. In my panic I press a large switch and realise that it is not the right one when the light in the room goes out. Ah! There we are! ‘Sprinkler System’. ‘Foyer’, ‘dining room’, ‘ballroom’. I take a deep breath and pull the lever as far as it will go. I hope to God that Sidney has not got to the ballroom yet. To add to my good fortune there is a key on the inside of the lock. I grab it, hop out into the corridor and lock the door behind me. That should keep everybody off their knees for a bit.

      Not half it won’t. When I get to the top of the stairs the Pendulum Swingers are pouring out of the ballroom like there has been a thunderstorm at the nudist camp picnic. I have not seen so many wet, naked bodies since I peeped through the cracks in the back of the ladies’ changing rooms at Tooting Bec baths. I look into the ballroom and the scene resembles a tropical rain forest by night–not that I have ever seen one, but I reckon it must be something like that. One or two couples who are probably stoned are still grinding away in the middle of the floor and one naked joker is lying on his back with his arms outstretched, chanting, ‘Now grow, you bastard!’ as he gazes down at his acorn. Happy days!

      Luckily there is no sign of Sam and Rosie and I am glad of this when I find Sid standing at my elbow sending glances into the darkness like cavalry scouts.

      ‘Has she come yet?’ says Sid nervously. ‘I wish I could get my hands on the bleeding basket who did this lot.’

      ‘Probably one of the residents,’ I say. ‘Oh–’ My exclamation is caused by the sight of Rosie coming through the front door. She is bedraggled but fully clothed and alone. She must have got out by one of the side exits.

      ‘Hello Sid, darling,’ she says, giving him a big hug, ‘what happened?’

      ‘Some СКАЧАТЬ