guarantee as he was ever going to get from me. He replaced his glasses on his nose and looked around the bar in search of our waitress. She caught his eye and tripped prettily across the room towards us. Manson gave her a very unacademic glance and a smile that showed the traces of broccoli trapped between his teeth.
'That was delicious, darling.' He grinned. 'I think we’re ready to see the dessert menu now.'
Berlin
I’D BEEN LEANING against the desk smoking a cigarette and watching Sylvie sleep when Ray knocked on his office door and put his head cautiously into the room. Ray’s moustache looked sadder than I’d ever seen it, but his dark eyes were sharp as polished dice and his cheeks flushed. I ventured a smile, but there’d been a lot of calls on my charm recently and I could feel that my reserves had grown slim. Ray hesitated, then, satisfied that the violence was over, turned and said something soft to someone standing beyond my view. He nodded to say he’d be safe, then slid into the room and closed the door.
'William.'
He shook his head as if lost for words.
'Yeah, I know Ray, sorry.'
'No,' his voice was hard, 'I’m sorry. You were making a good act.'
I sucked the last draw from my cigarette and looked for somewhere to stub it out. Ray’s computer lay askew amongst the mass of crushed paper on his desk, the keyboard spattered with Kolja’s blood. If there’d ever been an ashtray it was lost somewhere beneath the debris. I nipped the end of my fag with my fingers and put it in my pocket.
'Shit, Ray. I’m sorry about the mess.'
'Everyone’s sorry, William. You, me, Ulla.' He nodded at Sylvie slumped on the chair I’d lifted her into. 'Her too probably, when she wakes up.'
The indignity of the moment made my speech formal.
'Is my engagement terminated?'
Ray nodded.
'We depend on …’ He sought for an expression. 'Harmony… Ulla …'
'Ulla wants us out?' I hesitated, hoping he’d contradict me, but Ray nodded. I sighed.
'Yeah, I understand. Just pay me and I’ll collect my stuff and go.'
Ray looked sadder than ever. He reached into his pocket, drew out a bundle of notes and peeled a couple off the top. He passed them to me.
'Someone will bring you your things.'
I looked at the hundred euros in my hand.
'Ray, this isn’t what you owe me.'
'No, William.' The tide of red on Ray’s face seemed to be gaining ground. 'It’s not what I owe you. I spent money on advertising, travel, your new boxes, then …’ He spread his hands out taking in the mess of his office and I remembered how he’d described it as his sanctuary. '… You try to destroy my theatre. I have to persuade Ulla not to call the police.'
Sylvie stirred and I put my hand on her head. The theatre manager’s voice was rising; it held the shrillness of a man not used to shouting. 'It is you who owes me.' The door to the office opened a sliver and Ray spat something short and sharp at whoever was on the other side then turned back towards the room. 'Be grateful I gave you any money at all. Let your English friend give you your fare home. You won’t perform in Berlin again.'
'I put a lot of work into making the act perfect for Schall und Rauch.'
He shook his head and turned to leave.
'Someone will bring you your stuff.' He nodded towards Sylvie, averting his eyes as if it hurt him to look at her. 'Make sure you take her with you.'
'Ray,' I stepped away from the desk. 'I was relying on that money.'
'That is not my problem.' He looked me in the eye. 'Tidying this mess and finding someone who will take your place before tomorrow, calming my stage manager, keeping the police from my door, these are all my problems. You are simply one of my mistakes.'
At first I wasn’t sure which twin it was who appeared in the office with my props case, then I saw the omega symbol on his wrist and knew it was Erhard. He looked at Sylvie’s half-slumped form and said, 'Kolja is a bastard.'
'He’s a bastard with a job.' I lifted my props case. 'Can you give me a hand?'
Erhard glanced at Sylvie then at me.
'Sure.' He looked embarrassed. 'You should change.'
I laughed in spite of myself, but there was a bitter note to the laugh that made me stop.
'You could be right. Soon as I get home I’m going to give up hard drink and loose women and start studying moral philosophy.'
The acrobat nodded towards my case.
'Is there a fresh shirt in your bag?'
I glanced down and realised he hadn’t been referring to my lifestyle. The front of my shirt was soaked with blood, Kolja’s and mine, impossible to distinguish from each other, the same red merged on the no longer white cotton. I raised my hand to my face and felt the scab already crusting beneath my nose, becoming aware again of
