Not to Disturb (6 page)

‘I really could sleep,' she says. ‘I really feel like
another nap.'

‘No,' says Pablo. ‘Lister wants us all to be suffering
from shock when the police arrive. Lack of sleep has the same effect, Lister
says.'

‘I could act a state of shock at any time, and besides
there's my condition.' She yawns, balancing her cup of tea in her left hand
while covering her mouth with her right. ‘Lister's wonderful,' she says.

‘Terrific,' says Hadrian.

‘Marvellous,' says Pablo. ‘I never saw such a sense of
timing.'

From the floor above comes the noise of a sharp clap,
followed by another and another.

‘It sounds like guns going off,' says Heloise.

‘Well it isn't,' says Pablo. ‘It's shutters. The wind
must be rising again. I loosed those shutters really good, didn't I?'

‘Let's put on a record,' says Hadrian. He slides off the
bed and goes to the gramophone, to choose a record, first turning them this way
and that, his sharp eyesight quickly discerning the details printed on either
side of the disc, even though that part of the room is dim, the only light being
that by Heloise's bed.

From above the shutters make further reports, followed by
a more subdued clatter from a window below. Hadrian puts on a record and sets it
going. The noise fills the room for an instant until Hadrian turns down the
volume.

Then, while Heloise lights a cigarette, the two boys
dance to the rock music. Heloise puts her tea-cup on the table by her bed. She
takes a comb from a fringed satchel which is lying on the bed and a hand-mirror
from her bedside table. She lays them on the bed while she loosens her hair
which has been pulled back, ponytail style. Then she holds up the glass and
begins to comb, swinging her shoulder a little in time to the rock vibrations,
her tongue tapping the beat against her teeth. The boys dance, facing each other
and swinging, their feet moving always in the same small area of shiny pinewood
flooring.

Heloise's room is furnished much like that of a young
daughter of the house. Posters, slogans and pin-up photographs cover part of the
walls. The furniture is low-built with straight lines, and upholstered with dark
red, black and yellow stuff. A white woolly rug lies askew before a desk piled
with coloured magazines and crayons and some boxes of various medicines. The
boys' feet just miss the rug as they continue to dance.

Heloise says, ‘She didn't drink much, I'll say that for
her.' She stubs out her cigarette.

Pablo stops dancing. He says, ‘You're thinking thoughts,
Heloise.'

Hadrian, who continues dancing by himself, says,
‘Heloise, relate.'

‘What do you mean, I don't relate?' she says.

‘When you relate you don't ask what you mean. There's
such a thing as a trend.'

‘Who do you think you are, you — Chairman Mao?'

Pablo starts dancing again. The record ends. He turns it
over and puts on the other side.

‘Clovis is all right, too,' Heloise says. ‘I'll miss
Clovis.'

Pablo says, ‘He could stay with us. Why shouldn't he stay
with us?'

‘Clovis can stay with us,' says Hadrian.

‘The Baroness was natural,' says Heloise. ‘I'll say that.
Why shouldn't she be photographed and filmed in the nude?'

Hadrian stops dancing. ‘You know what?' he says. ‘Sorry
for Victor Passerat I am not. Neither alive nor dead.'

‘Nor me,' says Heloise.

‘He had a kind of something,' Pablo says, jerking his
arms as he rocks.

‘I know,' says Hadrian. ‘But it didn't correspond.'

‘Funny that it had to be him,' says Heloise.

Pablo says, ‘It could have been one of the others.'

Hadrian says, ‘But she decided on him. She got hooked on
him.'

‘It was inevitable,' says Heloise.

‘It could have been someone else,' Pablo says. ‘Anyone
could have made his mistake.'

‘There's such a thing as a trend,' Hadrian says. ‘If he
was hooked on the Baron he should have coordinated.'

‘Well he didn't coordinate,' says Heloise, putting her
looking-glass back on the table, then lighting a cigarette.

They stop talking for a while. Heloise smokes her
cigarette, languidly regarding the dance. When the music ends, the young men
together silently choose another record and put it on. First Hadrian, then
Pablo, start once more to dance, bobbing and swaying as if blown by a current
which fuses out from the beat of the music.

After a while, Heloise says, ‘I like Mr McGuire.'

‘The finest sound-track man in the business. He
coordinates,' says Hadrian.

‘Very professional, though,' says Pablo. ‘That kind of
puts a division, doesn't it?'

‘Mr McGuire and Mr Samuel,' says Hadrian, ‘are in a class
by themselves. You can't judge against them just because they made a success.
They're a great team.'

‘They went to prison for it,' Hadrian says.

‘Is that true?' Pablo says, and simultaneously Heloise
says, ‘Did they? When was that?'

‘Yes, when they started the business six, seven years
ago. Mr Samuel told me a lot about it,' Hadrian says, stopping his long spell of
dancing without any sign of having spent energy. ‘Mr Samuel told me,' he says,
‘that they were doing it for small money. If you do a thing for peanuts you get
caught for a crime. You have to do it privately for big money like everything
else.'

Pablo stops dancing and sits on the bed.

‘How did they do it before?' he says.

‘It was the same technique. Mr Samuel did the photography
and Mr McGuire did the sound-track. They put code ads in the papers. They got a
lot of responses.'

‘A lovely technique, they have,' Heloise says. ‘I must
say I liked it when they did me with Irene and Lister. Mr McGuire kept saying,
“Speak out your fantasies”, like that. I didn't know what the hell to say, I
thought he meant a fairy story, so I started with Little Red Riding Hood, and Mr
McGuire said “That's great, Heloise! You're great!” So I went on with Little Red
Riding Hood and Lister and Irene changed sides. They joined in with Red Riding
Hood. Lister was terrific as the grandmother when he ate me up. You can see in
the film that I had a good time. Then Irene got eaten up by Lister's understudy.
Mr Samuel is an artist, I'll say that, his perspectives coalesce.'

Hadrian says, ‘Eleanor always does her Princess bit. You
can't get her to do anything else.'

‘Too old to change,' Pablo says, ‘but she does it good. I
like the Princess and the Pea where she can't sleep on her bed. You should
always do your own thing in a simulation. It all works in. The Baroness shows up
good doing the nun in the Congo with Eleanor doing the Princess bit. Puss in
Boots is a big bore.'

‘I can do the nun in the Congo,' says Heloise.

‘So can I,' says Pablo. ‘I like it.'

‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears is best,' says Heloise.
‘They got the idea of fairy stories from me. It was my idea, or anyway, it just
came to me.'

‘Are your health and security cards stamped up to date?'
Pablo says.

‘I don't think so,' says Hadrian.

‘Mine aren't,' says Heloise. ‘I meant to remind the
Baroness.'

‘Lister would have seen to it if it had mattered,'
Hadrian says. ‘Obviously, it doesn't matter.' He takes up another record, looks
at it, says, ‘The Far Fetchers. Not bad,' and puts it on while Heloise says,
‘Anything goes for me.' The boys are dancing now. Heloise says, ‘She went to
finishing school in Lausanne and learnt to eat an orange with a little knife and
fork without ever touching the orange.'

‘Who?' says Pablo.

‘The Baroness.'

The young men dance on.

‘There must be fog coming up on the lake,' says Heloise.
‘I can see it in the room already. It gets through the double windows, even,
doesn't it?'

Pablo begins to sing to the music. He sings: ‘ “Pablo,
the Baroness wishes to see you.” — Knock, knock, “Come in, Pablo.” — “Good
morning, Madam, anything I can do, Madam?” — “Pablo, the shutters upstairs, they
bang so much. I think they must be loose.” — “Right away, Madam.” — “See you
later, then.” — “See you at the party, Baroness.” '

‘See you at the party,' sings Hadrian.

‘Don't make so much noise,' says Heloise. ‘Lister's busy
upstairs with the Reverend and Miss Barton.'

‘There's something going on up there,' Hadrian says,
stopping still as the music ends.

‘Lister can adjust whatever it is. Lister never
disparates, he symmetrizes,' Heloise says and lights a cigarette.

Pablo goes to the window and looks out at the fog.
‘Lister's got equibalance,' he says, ‘and what's more, he pertains.'

‘Definitely,' says Hadrian.

Mr Samuel is sitting in a big chair looking through a
bound typescript and Mr McGuire is looking over his shoulder.

Clovis sits at a round table which is covered with blue
velvet. His elbows are on the table and his chin rests gloomily on his
hands.

‘It's a winner,' says Mr Samuel. ‘Congratulations,
Clovis.'

‘It has a great deal of scope,' says Mr McGuire.

Clovis raises then lowers his eyebrows. His look of gloom
does not change, his elbows remain still.

‘A first-rate movie script,' says Mr Samuel. ‘Some of the
scenes are beyond belief. Only an authority on the subject could have pieced it
together.'

‘The lines are terrific,' says Mr McGuire, running his
fingers fondly over his tape-recorder which lies closed on the table. ‘You
edited those tapes perfectly, Clovis.'

Clovis remains mute.

Mr Samuel says, ‘That's a good idea to open with, where
you build up the Baroness like an identikit, when the police are looking for the
motive and they put an eye here and a nose there. Very visual, Clovis.'

‘I'm waiting to hear,' Clovis says. ‘We should have
heard. Yesterday was the deadline.'

‘We'll hear,' says Mr Samuel. ‘Don't worry. The motion
picture industry is a very funny thing.'

‘The serialization's come through,' says Clovis, moving
his right elbow from his chin in order to tap his hand on a bulky file which
lies on the table. ‘That contract's safe.'

‘The film's in our pocket,' says Mr McGuire. ‘Our only
problem is the casting. You have to have everyone younger than they really are.
If Hadrian plays Lister, Pablo could play Hadrian.'

‘It's just that I wonder if they'll give Pablo the
part.'

‘They'll have to,' says Mr McGuire.

‘Eleanor can play the Baroness. The same shots as I've
got, she only needs to follow the original film and dialogue,' says Mr
Samuel.

‘I'm worried about Pablo,' says Clovis.

‘He's very photogenic,' says Mr Samuel.

They fall silent as Lister enters the room followed by
the Reverend.

‘Where is Eleanor?' says Lister.

‘Not here,' says Clovis.

‘Give the Reverend a nice drink,' says Lister, going over
to the house-phone.

‘No, I should be in bed,' says the Reverend. ‘I have to
get up in the morning to see about the wedding.'

‘I'm sorry, Reverend, but we shall probably have an
urgent mission for you in this house tonight arising out of Sister Barton's
request. You really must stay.'

‘You must stay, Reverend,' says Mr McGuire. ‘We'll make
you comfortable.'

Lister has lifted the receiver and has pressed a button.
He stands waiting for a reply which does not come. He presses another button,
speaking meanwhile over his shoulder to those in the room. ‘Sister Barton,' he
says, ‘has asked the Reverend to perform a marriage service. She wants to marry
him in the attic, who apparently assents so far as one can gather.' Having got
no answer from the phone he presses another button and meanwhile says to the
others, ‘I've managed to dissuade the Reverend from such an irregular action at
the present moment.'

‘She's out of her mind,' says Mr Samuel. ‘Off her head,'
says Mr McGuire. And now Lister has got an answer on the phone. ‘Eleanor,' he
says into the speaker, ‘Any news? Any luck?'

The answer whistles briefly. From outside the house comes
a clap of thunder. Lister says into the speaker, ‘Be thorough, my dear,' and
hangs up.

‘A storm in the distance coming over,' says Mr
McGuire.

Clovis brings a glass of hot whisky to the Reverend who
is sitting dazedly on the sofa. The Reverend takes the drink, and places it on
the table by his side, with his fingers playing gently on the glass. He begins
to hum a hymn-tune, then he nods with sleep, opening his eyes suddenly when a
crackle of thunder passes the house, and letting them drop again when the noise
is past.

The house-telephone rings. Lister answers it and it
hisses back through its wind-pipe.

‘Irene?' Lister says. ‘Yes, of course let her in. Use
your common sense.' He hangs up. ‘That porter,' he says to all in the room, ‘is
a humbug.'

The house-phone rings again. Lister takes the instrument
off the hook very slowly, says into the speaker, ‘Lister here,' and trains his
ear on the garrulous sirocco that forces its way down the narrow flue of the
phone. Meanwhile a car draws up at the back. A window can be heard opening above
and Heloise's voice calls ‘Hi, Irene' into the stormy night. Mr Samuel, who is
peering out of the window, turns back to the room and says, ‘Irene in the
Mini-Morris.'