The Fat Man in History aka Exotic Pleasures

Everyone claps. Florence Nightingale keeps dancing. The clapping is forced into the rhythm of the music and everyone claps in time. May is dancing with Florence Nightingale. His movements are staccato, he stands with his feet apart, his huge overcoat flapping, slaps his thighs, claps his hands together above his head, stamps his feet, spins, jumps, shouts, nearly falls, takes Florence Nightingale around the waist and spins her around and around, they both stumble, but neither stops. May’s face is transformed, it is living. The teeth in his partly open mouth shine white. His overcoat is like some magical cloak, a swirling beautiful thing.

Florence Nightingale constantly sweeps long hair out of her eyes.

May falls. Finch takes his place but becomes puffed very quickly and gives over to the-man-who-won’t-give- his-name.

The-man-who-won’t-give-his-name takes Florence Nightingale in his arms and disregards the music. He begins a very slow, gliding waltz. Milligan whispers in Glino’s ear. Glino looks up shyly for a moment, pauses, then begins to play a Strauss waltz.

Finch says, the “Blue Danube”. To no one in particular.

The-man-who-won’t-give-his-name dances beautifully and very proudly. He holds Florence Nightingale slightly away from him, his head is high and cocked to one side. Florence Nightingale whispers something in his ear. He looks down at her and raises his eyebrows. They waltz around and around the kitchen until Finch becomes almost giddy with embarrassment. He thinks, it is like a wedding.

Glino once said (of prisons), “If you’ve ever been inside one of those places you wouldn’t ever want to be inside one again.”

Tonight Finch can see him lying on his bunk in a cell, playing the “Blue Danube” and the albatross and staring at the ceiling. He wonders if it is so very different from that now: they spend their days lying on their beds, afraid to go out because they don’t like the way people look at them.

The dancing finishes and the-man-who-won’t-give-his-name escorts Florence Nightingale to her chair. He is so large, he treats her as if she were wrapped in crinkly cellophane, a gentleman holding flowers.

Milligan earns his own money. He asks Fantoni, why don’t you dance?

Fantoni is leaning against the wall smoking another cigar. He looks at Milligan for a long time until Finch is convinced that Fantoni will punch Milligan.

Finally Fantoni says, I can’t dance.

9.

They all walk up the passage with Florence Nightingale. Approaching the front door she drops an envelope. The envelope spins gently to the floor and everyone walks around it. They stand on the porch and wave goodnight to her as she drives off in her black government car.

Returning to the house Milligan stoops and picks up the envelope. He hands it to Finch and says, for you. Inside the official envelope is a form letter with the letterhead of the Department of Housing. It says, Dear Mr. Finch, the department regrets that you are now in arrears with your rent. If this matter is not settled within the statutory seven days you will be required to find other accommodation. It is signed, Nancy Bowlby.

Milligan says, what is it?

Finch says, it’s from Florence Nightingale, about the rent.

Milligan says, seven days?

Finch says, oh, she has a job to do, it’s not her fault.

10.

May has the back room upstairs. Finch is lying in bed in “the new extensions”. He can hear Milligan calling to May.

Milligan says, May?

May says, what is it?

Milligan says, come here.

Their voices, Milligan’s distant, May’s close, seem to exist only inside Finch’s head.

May says, what do you want?

Milligan shouts, I want to tell you something.

May says, no you don’t, you just want me to tuck you in.

Milligan says, no. No, I don’t.

Fantoni’s loud raucous laugh comes from even further away.

The-man-who-won’t-give-his-name is knocking on the ceiling of his room with a broom. Finch can hear it going, bump, bump, bump. The Sibelius record jumps. May shouts, quit it.

Milligan says, I want to tell you something.

May shouts, no you don’t.

Finch lies naked on top of the blue sheets and tries to hum the albatross song but he has forgotten it.

Milligan says, come here. May? May, I want to tell you something.

May says, tuck yourself in, you lazy bugger.

Milligan giggles. The giggle floats out into the night.

Fantoni is in helpless laughter.

Milligan says, May?

May’s footsteps echo across the floorboards of his room and cross the corridor to Milligan’s room. Finch hears Milligan’s laughter and hears May’s footsteps returning to May’s room.

Fantoni shouts, what did he want?

May says, he wanted to be tucked in.

Fantoni laughs. May turns up the Sibelius record. The-man-who-won’t-give-his-name knocks on the ceiling with a broom. The record jumps.

11.

It is 4 a.m. and not yet light. No one can see them. As May and Finch leave the house a black government car draws away from the kerb but, although both of them see it, neither mentions it.

At 4 a.m. it is cool and pleasant to walk through the waste lands surrounding the house. There are one or two lights on in the big blocks of flats, but everyone seems to be asleep.

They walk slowly, picking their way through the thistles.

Finally May says, you were crazy.

Finch says, I know.

They walk for a long time. Finch wonders why the thistles grow in these parts, why they are sad, why they only grow where the ground has been disturbed, and wonders where they grew originally.

He says, do they make you sad?

May says, what?

He says, the thistles.

May doesn’t answer. Finally he says, you were crazy to mention it. He’ll really do it. He’ll really do it.

Finch stubs his toe on a large block of concrete. The pain seems deserved. He says, it didn’t enter my mind- that he’d think of Nancy.

May says, he’ll really do it. He’ll bloody-well eat her. Christ, you know what he’s like.

Finch says, I know, but I didn’t mention Nancy, just the statue.