the pain where Kolja’s fist had connected.
'No. I’ve not had time to do any laundry.'
The domestic detail seemed absurd and I giggled a little.
'Here.' Erhard pulled off his T-shirt and passed it to me.
'You sure?'
The young athlete nodded and I started unbuttoning my shirt. Erhard took it from me then got a bottle of clear liquid from Ray’s desk drawer, poured some onto the stained cotton, and started dabbing the blood from my face. The alcohol stung. I winced and he placed his hand on my bare shoulder.
'It is necessary.'
I felt the heat of his naked chest close to mine. It was a strange sensation in the midst of a strange night. I took the ruined shirt from him and completed the operation myself then took a quick gulp from the bottle. The drink was some kind of schnapps. It was rough and strong and it made me feel better. I passed the bottle to Erhard and he screwed the lid back on without taking a pull.
I knelt beside Sylvie and whispered, 'Erhard’s going to help me get you into a cab.'
She mumbled something I couldn’t make out. I nodded to him and we hooked our hands gently under Sylvie’s arms and helped her slowly along the back corridors to the stage door. Once, she looked up at Erhard and smiled dreamily like she wasn’t sure where he had come from, but mostly she simply put one foot in front of the other, letting us support her, her head dipping gently under the weight of gravity. A bass beat reached us from somewhere deep within the theatre but we met no one during our slow progress to the exit. The stage doorman put down his newspaper and watched us with disapproving eyes.
We ignored him and Erhard helped Sylvie and me leave Schall und Rauch for the last time.
I stopped in sight of the main street.
'It’s probably best if I take her from here. Cabs might start worrying about their upholstery if they see it takes two of us to hold her up.'
'OK.' Erhard stroked a hand across his tattooed chest. 'Good luck.'
'Thanks, I’m going to need it.'
He nodded.
'Will you go back to England?'
'Probably.' I remembered the scout Rich had mentioned and tried to cheer myself up.
Or maybe I was just trying to save a little bit of my dignity.
'My agent said there’s TV interest back there. Something might come of it.'
Erhard rubbed his fingers together in the universal money gesture.
'So, soon all your problems will be over.'
I shook his hand and thanked him for his help; trying to push away the thought that the only time all your problems are ever over is when you reach your grave.
I slid Sylvie into one of the white Mercs idling at the cabstand, marvelling that she could still walk in her high red shoes. The driver gave us a reluctant look, but I told him the name of the hotel and he turned on the ignition and swung slowly out of the rank. Perhaps money was tight for him too.
Sylvie woke in the cab and gave me a sweet smile, like a child drowsy from an afternoon nap.
'Don’t worry, William, we’ll find somewhere better. I bet there are some fancy cabarets in London.'
'I liked it at Schall und Rauch.'
Sylvie rested her head against my shoulder.
'You liked that uptight bitch.'
'Yeah,' I looked out at the shop windows shining brightly into the night. 'Yeah, I liked her too.'
The hotel was in darkness but this time I had a key and let us in.
It was impossible to avoid my reflection in the hotel lift’s mirrored walls. Erhard’s T-shirt hugged my body, emphasising the gut that I’d been pretending didn’t exist. A Hitler moustache of caked gore clung stubbornly to my upper lip, there was a cut on the bridge of my nose where Kolja’s ring had caught me and my right eye was puffed half-closed.
The numbers above the elevator door climbed slowly towards four. Sylvie was awake now. She leaned against the opposite wall staring at her feet and I wondered if she was scared to see her reflection. I put my hand on her arm and she looked up at me.
'I’m too tired, William.' She smiled sadly, 'Let me sleep a while then we can do whatever you want.'
The lift pinged to a halt and she stepped into the corridor. Now she was sobering up Sylvie’s walk seemed less assured. She stumbled, swore softly, took off one shoe, then the other and staggered flat-footed down the door- lined corridor towards my room. I strode after her.
'All I’m doing is giving you a bed for the night.'
Her stare was sharp and appraising, her mouth bent into a cynical Mona Lisa smile that made my palm twitch.
'Your bed.'
'You were comatose and I didn’t have enough money to get you home.'
