Merry Mansions. Manse of rich mischief. More parties in progress. No sign of Hugo. Up the steps into Flat Fourteen. And the dark empty rooms. Light on in the foyer. And then to the sitting room. Where something moves. Shudder of fear. Goodly flash up the keester. And hair up on the back of the neck. Flick on some light. Sitting in black, a cowl over the head. For one second it looks like death. And the next with the veil back. Shirl.
"Hello George. I was waiting for you didn't think you'd come. Hugo let me in. Don't get angry, not his key, got it right here, he got it from a Mr. Stone. Here it is."
"Thank you."
"I'm here George because I'm pleading for my children and myself. O.K. I said things. You said things. But still there are four children. Each with a future."
"Do have a drink, what would you like."
"No. I'm not staying. I just want to say what I've got to say and I'm catching the nine fifteen train. It's Chnstmas eve."
"I know it's Christmas eve."
"I don't want to fight."
"Well what do you want to do."
"I'm here because it is Christmas and I'm asking you to stop."
"Stop what."
"You know what, George."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
"Your mausoleum."
"I beg your pardon."
"Let's not beat around the bush George. Please. Not tonight. I'm just asking you not to go on with it. You can't go on with it."
"Why wear that get up to tell me this. Black veil."
"And why are you wearing the get up you've got on."
"That's my business."
"And I know why, because that's what you wear when you go to that infernal cemetery."
"You better have a drink Shirl because that's all you're going to get from me. I have nothing further to say."
"You've been there, haven't you, in that ridiculous car with the radio telephone. As if you were playing cops and robbers,"
"And you've been hanging around."
"There. I knew it. It's yours isn't it. Admit it now."
"Shirl if you don't mind, you're going to miss your train. In short I live here."
"You don't have to tell me that. On your bathroom floor is Matilda. Absolutely unconscious drunk. And practically nude."
"How refreshing."
"Don't be so smug. I call it enticement, not that she probably has to."
"I prefer not to discuss my servants."
"You're such a God damn phoney."
"Now look Shirl I'll clout you across the face if you continue. I've had enough bad news today."
"Why, run out of marble. O God."
"My mother and father are dead."
"Ha ha ha."
"Are you laughing."
"Yes. I'm laughing."
Smith standing stiffly, silently. Shirl leaning deeply back, drawing in a deep breath. Black feather crossing down upon her cheek. Brown eyes. Raising one brow. As the staring contest is engaged. When her mouth moves she's weakening. With both her mouths such soft tilings. And kissed them honeyed blossoms both so many times. She can draw love out of stone. Even now. Four children later. Ripe under linen in summer, soft wool in winter. And clinging and black silk now. Eats an apple while she pops a baby out like a pip. They grow as little kings and queens.
"Aren't you going to hit me George."
"I'm tired."
"What a rotten little trick, mother and father. You try everything. And what's that now."
"None of your business."
"Don't tell meyou're taking snuff. God."
From the tiny turquoise casket Smith pressed a pinch at each nose hole. Shirl crossing legs. Beautiful legs that is her distinction. Means she's got something more to say. And beyond Shirl's head, across the street, out of this dimly lit room, a slattern mother. And her grey husband holds his head in hands. Over his eight mistakes.
"Your train Shirl. This weekend's been enough already."
"I can stop you building that edifice."
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about one acre, foundations thirty feet deep, imported marble, and the biggest mausoleum built in Renown Cemetery. Doctor Fear."
"What are you talking about."
"That's who you are. Doctor Fear, who's building, whose name is connected with it. None other than George Smith."
"You've been reading too many comic strips, Shirl."
"My legal counsel is going to take steps. Are you pretending I can't stop you squandering what my children and I have a right to."
"You're amply supplied with money."
"And what happens to the rest of that money."
"What money."
"Why haven't you got accountants. Answer me that."
"What do you really want, Shirl."
"I want more. Because you've got more. You're rotten with it. You tried to buy two thousand canes from an antique dealer."