fingers were clumsy, but after a while they began to remember the familiar tricks and I knew that with practice they would regain their old knack. I shaved, showered and then went out to ring Johnny.
Eilidh sounded distracted.
'Oh, William, John’s a bit busy, can he ring you back?'
'I’m calling from a phone booth.'
There was a smile in Eilidh’s voice.
'That’s novel these days.'
I looked out at the crowds of shoppers rushing along Argyle Street and realised it was a Saturday.
'I guess it is.' I paused, hoping she’d drag Johnny from whatever task he was caught up in. When she didn’t I said. 'It’s just to say I’ll do the gig.'
'That’s brilliant, William, he’ll be delighted.'
I felt myself go gruff.
'Aye, well, he’ll maybe not be so chuffed when he sees me; I’m a bit rusty.'
'Nonsense he’s always going on about how brilliant you were when you were both at uni.'
I stored this nugget of praise away amongst my depleted stock.
'Johnny didn’t tell me the kick-off time.'
'It’s a week today, 3.30 in the Old Panopticon.'
'A matinee?'
The voice on the other end of the line sounded concerned.
'Is that a problem?'
I hesitated and then realised that it would make no dif ference to my purpose what time the show was at.
'No, not really, it just threw me that’s all.'
'There’ll be a lot of kids there, families, it should be fun.'
'I’ll temper my act accordingly.'
Eilidh laughed.
'See that you do.'
Eilidh thanked me again and I realised she wanted to go. The pips sounded and I fired more change into the slot, holding her there.
'Johnny never said what the benefit was in aid of.'
'Did he not?' Eilidh’s voice was bright. 'We’re trying to raise funds for a charity catering for children like Grace.'
'Like what?'
It sounded flippant and inwardly I cringed.
'You really didn’t talk much did you? Grace has Down’s Syndrome.'
I felt a quick hit of pity, infused with embarrassment. The words were out before I knew I was going to say them.
'I’m sorry.'
'Don’t be,' Eilidh’s voice was serious. 'We consider ourselves blessed.'
Berlin
THE THREE OF us stood in the wings, Sylvie on one side of me trembling in a silky robe, Ulla on the other dressed in a close-fitting vest and tight leggings that had been severed at the knees. Both girls were wearing the same bottle-green fishnets and high shiny red sandals just as Sylvie had promised. Out on stage the clowns started to fling their buzz-saws around. I turned to Ulla.
'Ready?'
She nodded and I could sense her nervousness. I moved to help her into the hollow top of the table, but suddenly Kolja was beside her. He lifted her gently into his arms and deposited her safely in the compartment like some fairytale prince laying his new-won princess into their honeymoon bower. Sylvie leaned over to check something and her robe fell open. Beneath it she was almost naked. The green stockings were held up by a red satin suspender belt, which matched her high-cut shorts and the scarlet tassels, secured by mysterious means over her nipples.
Ulla made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a spit and Kolja smiled. He winked at me as if to ask, what could you do when women were around? Then leaned over and kissed Ulla quickly on the lips, ruffling her hair. I’d never suspected him of a sense of humour and would have liked him better for it if I hadn’t noticed him meeting Sylvie’s eyes as he rose out of the kiss.
Whenever cinema cameras go behind stage they show chaos. Half-dressed gaggles of showgirls tripping into departing acts, harassed stage managers pointing the odds with one hand and messing their hair into Bedlam peaks with the other. The reality probably doesn’t look so different to the untrained eye. It’s like watching a motorway from a pedestrian overpass. You wonder how the cars can snake from lane to lane without colliding, and yet when you’re the driver the switch can be effortless.
The curtains dropped and the clowns ran off stage making lecherous faces at Sylvie as they passed. The
