Cocktails with the Gentry...
Robert found me just as the sun was finding a place in the sky. Curled up in the empty space where the box once was, shaking with fear and cold. He hugged me and placed his coat around my legs for warmth. 'I was so worried about you. We looked around for hours last night.' He bent over and kissed my hair. 'Blimey girl, you stink of beer, we need to get you washed up, come back with me.'
I can't recall a single step of that journey up the hill. My next memory is of sitting in the bath at Pugs, with Robert washing my hair. There was so much unsaid in that room. Robert helped me out, sat me on the toilet, eyed the blood and passed me a tampon from the box on the shelf. For a moment I felt like dying. He dried me off and pulled a jumper over my head, then took me to our room. I slept fitfully for the next few hours. Every time I woke I had the devastation of remembering the day before. When I finally turned back to face Robert I saw him staring at me.
'I've got to go Claire.'
I smiled and stroked his face. 'OK' Was the best I could muster.
'Claire. You know I'm not coming back. You know I'm leaving, don't you. You'll be alright. You always are.' I heard someone shuffling about in the hallway. 'Happy Birthday Claire.'
That day I turned seventeen years old. As I turned my head away from the door, I placed my hands over my ears, as if not hearing him leave could prevent it happening. I hummed a quiet song again. The last bastion of my sanity had just fallen to the wayside. There was nothing now that he had gone.
The doorbell went. It might have been just as Robert left, it might have been hours later, who knows. It was two men wearing serious faces and serious black suits.
'Hello Love. Pack your stuff and get the fuck out.' I went to push the door shut but a well placed foot prevented me. The taller man spoke again 'I said - get the fuck out, didn't you hear me? This isn't your flat and the nutcase that owns it isn't in a position to pick his house guests. You've got ten minutes. Then we come in and take you out.' As he said the words 'Take you out' he flexed his fist.
Shit.
What was I going to do?
I lit a cigarette and grabbed a bag. Threw in it everything that I could fit, then I grabbed the rat's cage and headed back to the door.
'Pug will be mad at you for this.' I spat.
'Mark's always mad you dumb bitch. Now go.' I walked fast, looking behind me only once to see the men fitting new locks onto Pug's front door. I left the rats behind some bins at the top of town, then wandered down towards the Abbey. I think the thing that most tangibly demonstrates my state of mind at this point is that I hoped to find Ian and ask him if I could stay. I needed someone's arms around me and I cared not whose arm's they were. Comfort, however, came in a different form that day.
'Happy Birthday!' shouted Merlin waving a ten pound note 'Breakfast at the Central Cafe?'
'Merlin.' I smiled 'You're a life saver.' And I gave him a huge hug.
The Central Cafe was a squat in the basement of a building in the centre of town. The squatters sold extremely cheap hot and cold meals and provided a place to hang out and to socialise. I felt exhausted and confused, but I was grateful for this moment of friendship. We ordered two plates of vegetable lasagne and two cups of tea, then we took a table at the back of the cafe where a woman with pink hair played a flute in the corner.
'Robert left me Merlin.' I couldn't help but cry at the speaking of those words 'And some bastards came and kicked me out of Pugs. What the fuck am I going to do?'
'First,' said Merlin 'We'll eat. Then we will visit a magic glue tree. Then perhaps, we'll go to the Hat & Feather, where we will drink beer and rejoice our friendship. Then you will say to me 'Well done Merlin for scoring a job at The Hat' and 'Thank you merlin for letting me stay in your new room tonight despite the fact that there is every possibility that I could get laid by someone else.'.' My eyes widened.
'You've got a job in the Hat & Feather?'
'Darn tooting I have, I'm the new cellar boy. Room comes with the job. I'll sneak you in and call in sick for tonight. We'll spend the evening tucked up in bed watching old films and eating crisps. Marvelous idea for a birthday celebration.'
Marvelous indeed.
Merlin was a well known character around the streets of Bath. He was thirty years old and the 'Peter Pan of punk'. Merlin had absolutely no intention of ever growing up and for this I loved him. The child in me had died so long ago that I adored to be around the child in him. After a good feed and some idle chatter we strolled down the London Road towards the pub.
Merlin stopped suddenly.
He bent forward and began sniffing at a large pot planted with a small tree. He then started digging in the soil with his hands. 'It's the magic glue tree!' he cried, then returned to his digging. Suddenly he pulled out a small red metal pot shrieking 'Eureka!' And he held aloft the tin of Evostick glue for all to see. I had to laugh. Only Merlin would have pots of glue stashed in pot plants around the town.
It felt so good to be climbing the stairway of the pub. I followed Merlin into a tiny room containing a bed, a TV and video, a fridge and some old bags of clothes. The room was decorated with posters of punk bands and smelt of old socks and men, despite the fact that Merlin had only lived there a couple of days. Today, it smelt like a home. I threw my bag down in the corner and myself on his bed.
'Merlin. It's a bloody palace!' He opened the fridge and passed me a beer.
'Get yer laughing gear around that one. I'm going to run a bath and have a shave. Make yourself at home Bubs.'
Home. A tenuous word.
I turned on the TV and put my feet up on the bed. With Merlin gone I thought of Robert once more. I wondered if he was happy. Was he lying in Polly's arms? Was he getting drunk with Nick? It made me sick to think of him. Merlin returned smelling of lavender soap and with a freshly shaved Mohican, dyed pillar box red. He was totally naked, which I ignored, and he played the guitar for me sitting cross legged on the battered old carpet. He made me laugh, making up silly songs about me, him and the people we knew. We drank more beers and cuddled in the bed. At lunchtime, as promised, he raided the pub's crisp stash and we waited for the afternoon matinée to start, snacking on salt & vinegar and smokey bacon treats. At one point he looked at me with an amorous glint in his eye.
'Fancy having birthday sex?'
I looked at him with more truth than I had ever mustered. 'I've just about had all the fucking that I can take, Merlin. I'd rather not.' I had never said no to a man before.
There was more sleeping that afternoon. More sleep, some drugs, lot's of beer and innocent cuddles. He was my King. I remember him fond and dear for all he offered me and for all he left me with on this tainted birthday.
Monday.
The next day started with a spliff and a new hairstyle. I raided Merlins shelves and found a pot of Alpine green hair dye. With some scissors I hacked off the sides of my hair, then I got Merlin to shave it into a Mohican and spike it for me. We stood there grinning in the mirror at each other, 'Like Twins' I laughed.
My plan for the day was to beg some money and to get very drunk. 'Always nice to have an ambition', I thought. I found begging much harder with my new look though. People seemed intimidated by me and no longer saw me as quaint and pitiable. Eventually I made enough money for some bright pink footless fishnets, twenty Benson & Hedges and a visit to the pub. Any pub would do. The question of which pub was answered when I bumped into Old John and the Spaceman at the newsagents. They were off to The Beehive. Would I like to join them for a round or two?
'Most definitely I would kind Sirs.' And I looped an arm through each of their's for the journey down The Belvedere Road.
Old John was a traveler from the bender site. Tall and slim he wore a patterned waistcoat and big boots. His wiry, grey hair danced unmanageably around a weather worn face. I liked John. He was an honest man of simple tastes. The spaceman was so called because he was mentally fucked up after taking too much acid in the 60's and 70's. He had gotten so high that he had never quite come back down to earth. He was plump and unhealthy looking, red of complexion and with a peculiar sheen to his skin. I noted that he had the same silver moon boots as Pug.
At the pub we were joined by Tabbitha, a plump and shy girl of about nineteen. She lived with her mother in a council house down in Bath Easton, and was often to be seen hanging out with the travelers around the town. I ordered the first four glasses of cloudy cider and we all sat down to smoke cherry flavoured pipe tobacco and tell a yarn or two. I liked listening to Old John's stories. He had seen the world and then some and picked up a few good tales on the way. Old John bought the second round and he popped a special treat into each of our hands to wash down with the scrumpy. Two tiny black flecks were stuck inside a piece of sticky tape, nestled in the palm of my hand. 'Black Micro Dots' he told me 'Good acid that'. I took the micro dots and chewed on them as instructed. It seemed only minutes later that something else was pressed into my hand.
'Speed' said Old John 'A gram for you and Tabbitha to share. Let's see if that doesn't put a smile on your face.' Tabbitha tugged on my arm and gestured at the toilet, so I followed her there and squeezed into the tiny cubicle to examine the gift. It was a fold of paper, about one centimeter by two centimeters, and inside was a small mound of white crystallized powder. I watched interested as Tabbitha rolled up a bank note and used a beer mat to chop the speed and shape it into four lines. 'Two each' she smiled and offered me the tube.
'You first.' I replied nervously. Watching every move she made, I drank the whole thing in. I didn't want to look an inexperienced fool. When my turn came, the speed tasted bitter sweet as it hit the back of my throat. My nose burned and my nerves were on edge. I wondered if this would be like the acid, if I would have ages to wait before I felt the effects come on. We returned to the bar and settled back to our drinks and the laughing men. The conversation continued and we giggled and drank as the drugs began to take hold. First the speed made my heart race and my mouth feel funny. I chewed endlessly on the skin inside my cheek and talked and talked and talked like I had never talked before. My two rats popped out of my coat and ran around the table merrily, glad to be free of that stupid cage for a time. I felt a hand in mine again.
'Rohypnol.' Said Old John slipping a third thing into my hand. 'You save that one for tomorrow. When you feel like shit, it makes that shit smell of roses!'
'True. Shit smells like roses when the Pinks are in town.' Said the Spaceman. Offering up some conversation for the first time since our arrival at the pub. As soon as Old John loked the other way I popped the little purple pill into my mouth and swallowed it down. Why wait? It sounded like just the thing to help me forget and I was having so much fun today. Our laughter became raucous and insane as the acid muddled our brains. I remember the fire looking like the most beautiful jewels that I had ever seen and that the eyes of my companions glinted and shone with the flickering light in a most enchanting way. Everything about that afternoon was perfect. Outside the pub, when we eventually giggled too much to stay, we amused ourselves with the beauty of the spring flowers and the dusty glamour of the old black stage coach that sat in an antique shop window. It was like magic ran through our veins and each and every thing my eyes fell upon verged true perfection that day.
'I never want this to end!' I cried hugging John, Tabbitha and the Spaceman in turn.
'Then come back with us.' Laughed Old John 'Come back to the site. There's plenty of drugs and plenty of beds to be found there.'
I held Tabbitha's hand 'Are you coming Miss Tabbitha?'
'Of course I am. My boyfriend, Ian, lives down there. You can stay the night with us if you like. I'm sure that he won't mind'
'Not Welsh Ian?' I burst. Wide eyed and curious at her words.
'Do you know him?' She asked.
I wondered if I did.
Continued...
The Hat & Feather Pub
I can't recall a single step of that journey up the hill. My next memory is of sitting in the bath at Pugs, with Robert washing my hair. There was so much unsaid in that room. Robert helped me out, sat me on the toilet, eyed the blood and passed me a tampon from the box on the shelf. For a moment I felt like dying. He dried me off and pulled a jumper over my head, then took me to our room. I slept fitfully for the next few hours. Every time I woke I had the devastation of remembering the day before. When I finally turned back to face Robert I saw him staring at me.
'I've got to go Claire.'
I smiled and stroked his face. 'OK' Was the best I could muster.
'Claire. You know I'm not coming back. You know I'm leaving, don't you. You'll be alright. You always are.' I heard someone shuffling about in the hallway. 'Happy Birthday Claire.'
That day I turned seventeen years old. As I turned my head away from the door, I placed my hands over my ears, as if not hearing him leave could prevent it happening. I hummed a quiet song again. The last bastion of my sanity had just fallen to the wayside. There was nothing now that he had gone.
The doorbell went. It might have been just as Robert left, it might have been hours later, who knows. It was two men wearing serious faces and serious black suits.
'Hello Love. Pack your stuff and get the fuck out.' I went to push the door shut but a well placed foot prevented me. The taller man spoke again 'I said - get the fuck out, didn't you hear me? This isn't your flat and the nutcase that owns it isn't in a position to pick his house guests. You've got ten minutes. Then we come in and take you out.' As he said the words 'Take you out' he flexed his fist.
Shit.
What was I going to do?
I lit a cigarette and grabbed a bag. Threw in it everything that I could fit, then I grabbed the rat's cage and headed back to the door.
'Pug will be mad at you for this.' I spat.
'Mark's always mad you dumb bitch. Now go.' I walked fast, looking behind me only once to see the men fitting new locks onto Pug's front door. I left the rats behind some bins at the top of town, then wandered down towards the Abbey. I think the thing that most tangibly demonstrates my state of mind at this point is that I hoped to find Ian and ask him if I could stay. I needed someone's arms around me and I cared not whose arm's they were. Comfort, however, came in a different form that day.
'Happy Birthday!' shouted Merlin waving a ten pound note 'Breakfast at the Central Cafe?'
'Merlin.' I smiled 'You're a life saver.' And I gave him a huge hug.
The Central Cafe was a squat in the basement of a building in the centre of town. The squatters sold extremely cheap hot and cold meals and provided a place to hang out and to socialise. I felt exhausted and confused, but I was grateful for this moment of friendship. We ordered two plates of vegetable lasagne and two cups of tea, then we took a table at the back of the cafe where a woman with pink hair played a flute in the corner.
'Robert left me Merlin.' I couldn't help but cry at the speaking of those words 'And some bastards came and kicked me out of Pugs. What the fuck am I going to do?'
'First,' said Merlin 'We'll eat. Then we will visit a magic glue tree. Then perhaps, we'll go to the Hat & Feather, where we will drink beer and rejoice our friendship. Then you will say to me 'Well done Merlin for scoring a job at The Hat' and 'Thank you merlin for letting me stay in your new room tonight despite the fact that there is every possibility that I could get laid by someone else.'.' My eyes widened.
'You've got a job in the Hat & Feather?'
'Darn tooting I have, I'm the new cellar boy. Room comes with the job. I'll sneak you in and call in sick for tonight. We'll spend the evening tucked up in bed watching old films and eating crisps. Marvelous idea for a birthday celebration.'
Marvelous indeed.
Merlin was a well known character around the streets of Bath. He was thirty years old and the 'Peter Pan of punk'. Merlin had absolutely no intention of ever growing up and for this I loved him. The child in me had died so long ago that I adored to be around the child in him. After a good feed and some idle chatter we strolled down the London Road towards the pub.
Merlin stopped suddenly.
He bent forward and began sniffing at a large pot planted with a small tree. He then started digging in the soil with his hands. 'It's the magic glue tree!' he cried, then returned to his digging. Suddenly he pulled out a small red metal pot shrieking 'Eureka!' And he held aloft the tin of Evostick glue for all to see. I had to laugh. Only Merlin would have pots of glue stashed in pot plants around the town.
It felt so good to be climbing the stairway of the pub. I followed Merlin into a tiny room containing a bed, a TV and video, a fridge and some old bags of clothes. The room was decorated with posters of punk bands and smelt of old socks and men, despite the fact that Merlin had only lived there a couple of days. Today, it smelt like a home. I threw my bag down in the corner and myself on his bed.
'Merlin. It's a bloody palace!' He opened the fridge and passed me a beer.
'Get yer laughing gear around that one. I'm going to run a bath and have a shave. Make yourself at home Bubs.'
Home. A tenuous word.
I turned on the TV and put my feet up on the bed. With Merlin gone I thought of Robert once more. I wondered if he was happy. Was he lying in Polly's arms? Was he getting drunk with Nick? It made me sick to think of him. Merlin returned smelling of lavender soap and with a freshly shaved Mohican, dyed pillar box red. He was totally naked, which I ignored, and he played the guitar for me sitting cross legged on the battered old carpet. He made me laugh, making up silly songs about me, him and the people we knew. We drank more beers and cuddled in the bed. At lunchtime, as promised, he raided the pub's crisp stash and we waited for the afternoon matinée to start, snacking on salt & vinegar and smokey bacon treats. At one point he looked at me with an amorous glint in his eye.
'Fancy having birthday sex?'
I looked at him with more truth than I had ever mustered. 'I've just about had all the fucking that I can take, Merlin. I'd rather not.' I had never said no to a man before.
There was more sleeping that afternoon. More sleep, some drugs, lot's of beer and innocent cuddles. He was my King. I remember him fond and dear for all he offered me and for all he left me with on this tainted birthday.
Monday.
The next day started with a spliff and a new hairstyle. I raided Merlins shelves and found a pot of Alpine green hair dye. With some scissors I hacked off the sides of my hair, then I got Merlin to shave it into a Mohican and spike it for me. We stood there grinning in the mirror at each other, 'Like Twins' I laughed.
My plan for the day was to beg some money and to get very drunk. 'Always nice to have an ambition', I thought. I found begging much harder with my new look though. People seemed intimidated by me and no longer saw me as quaint and pitiable. Eventually I made enough money for some bright pink footless fishnets, twenty Benson & Hedges and a visit to the pub. Any pub would do. The question of which pub was answered when I bumped into Old John and the Spaceman at the newsagents. They were off to The Beehive. Would I like to join them for a round or two?
'Most definitely I would kind Sirs.' And I looped an arm through each of their's for the journey down The Belvedere Road.
Old John was a traveler from the bender site. Tall and slim he wore a patterned waistcoat and big boots. His wiry, grey hair danced unmanageably around a weather worn face. I liked John. He was an honest man of simple tastes. The spaceman was so called because he was mentally fucked up after taking too much acid in the 60's and 70's. He had gotten so high that he had never quite come back down to earth. He was plump and unhealthy looking, red of complexion and with a peculiar sheen to his skin. I noted that he had the same silver moon boots as Pug.
At the pub we were joined by Tabbitha, a plump and shy girl of about nineteen. She lived with her mother in a council house down in Bath Easton, and was often to be seen hanging out with the travelers around the town. I ordered the first four glasses of cloudy cider and we all sat down to smoke cherry flavoured pipe tobacco and tell a yarn or two. I liked listening to Old John's stories. He had seen the world and then some and picked up a few good tales on the way. Old John bought the second round and he popped a special treat into each of our hands to wash down with the scrumpy. Two tiny black flecks were stuck inside a piece of sticky tape, nestled in the palm of my hand. 'Black Micro Dots' he told me 'Good acid that'. I took the micro dots and chewed on them as instructed. It seemed only minutes later that something else was pressed into my hand.
'Speed' said Old John 'A gram for you and Tabbitha to share. Let's see if that doesn't put a smile on your face.' Tabbitha tugged on my arm and gestured at the toilet, so I followed her there and squeezed into the tiny cubicle to examine the gift. It was a fold of paper, about one centimeter by two centimeters, and inside was a small mound of white crystallized powder. I watched interested as Tabbitha rolled up a bank note and used a beer mat to chop the speed and shape it into four lines. 'Two each' she smiled and offered me the tube.
'You first.' I replied nervously. Watching every move she made, I drank the whole thing in. I didn't want to look an inexperienced fool. When my turn came, the speed tasted bitter sweet as it hit the back of my throat. My nose burned and my nerves were on edge. I wondered if this would be like the acid, if I would have ages to wait before I felt the effects come on. We returned to the bar and settled back to our drinks and the laughing men. The conversation continued and we giggled and drank as the drugs began to take hold. First the speed made my heart race and my mouth feel funny. I chewed endlessly on the skin inside my cheek and talked and talked and talked like I had never talked before. My two rats popped out of my coat and ran around the table merrily, glad to be free of that stupid cage for a time. I felt a hand in mine again.
'Rohypnol.' Said Old John slipping a third thing into my hand. 'You save that one for tomorrow. When you feel like shit, it makes that shit smell of roses!'
'True. Shit smells like roses when the Pinks are in town.' Said the Spaceman. Offering up some conversation for the first time since our arrival at the pub. As soon as Old John loked the other way I popped the little purple pill into my mouth and swallowed it down. Why wait? It sounded like just the thing to help me forget and I was having so much fun today. Our laughter became raucous and insane as the acid muddled our brains. I remember the fire looking like the most beautiful jewels that I had ever seen and that the eyes of my companions glinted and shone with the flickering light in a most enchanting way. Everything about that afternoon was perfect. Outside the pub, when we eventually giggled too much to stay, we amused ourselves with the beauty of the spring flowers and the dusty glamour of the old black stage coach that sat in an antique shop window. It was like magic ran through our veins and each and every thing my eyes fell upon verged true perfection that day.
'I never want this to end!' I cried hugging John, Tabbitha and the Spaceman in turn.
'Then come back with us.' Laughed Old John 'Come back to the site. There's plenty of drugs and plenty of beds to be found there.'
I held Tabbitha's hand 'Are you coming Miss Tabbitha?'
'Of course I am. My boyfriend, Ian, lives down there. You can stay the night with us if you like. I'm sure that he won't mind'
'Not Welsh Ian?' I burst. Wide eyed and curious at her words.
'Do you know him?' She asked.
I wondered if I did.
Continued...
The Hat & Feather Pub
posted by Claire at 12:07 pm
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