Bold as Love (29 page)

‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘Looked as if he thought we were going to
eat
him. What’s in this stuff you gave me?’

‘Nothing special. Bit of MDMA, bit of acid, toad venom, trace elements. Coming up on you now is it, Teflon-head?’

‘Yeah. My God, if anyone had told me two years ago I would be taking unidentified candy from Aoxomoxoa… I must be outa my mind.’

The skull grinned at him beatifically. ‘You soon will be.’

They came through the door of the dressing room together, laughing, expecting to find it empty, there was obviously nothing going on around here. But Fiorinda was there, still wearing the cowgirl dress. She stood in the middle of the floor, fists pressed to her mouth. She didn’t move. She was staring right at them, but didn’t seem to see them.

‘Fio?’ said Ax.

No reponse. He went up, put his hands on her shoulders—

‘
Fiorinda
? What is it? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’

Sage had stayed at the door. As soon as he saw her move, as soon as she came out of that frozen rigidity, he turned to leave, sure he had no place here—

‘
Sage
,’ she wailed. ‘
No
! Please! Don’t leave me!
Please!
’

He shut the door, came swiftly over. ‘Okay, I’m here. I will not leave you.’

They sat her down. Her eyes were black, her pulse thready and racing, her skin cold and clammy as if she was bleeding inside. Her hands were covered in small red scratches. They looked at each other, the Heads’ patent cocktail dropping out of them like something fallen down a lift shaft, leaving them—for the moment—stone cold sober.

‘Fio, what have you taken? Do you remember?’

‘Nothing.’ She was clinging to both of them, clutching Sage’s ruined right hand, hanging onto Ax’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t want to be smashed on stage in case I fucked up in front of all those Prime Ministers and things. Not even a glass of wine.’ Her breath was coming in gasps, small breasts heaving under the sweat-soaked lace. ‘We came back here and there were some pink roses, for me: and
I didn’t like that.
But I managed to be…be okay. I was fine, really. Then the others went off and left me. They can’t be too chummy. They think Charm would smell me on their breath and kill them. And then. What time is it? I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Is it the same night?’

‘What’s wrong with pink roses?’ asked Sage.

‘I hate pink, and I hate roses
.’ She let go of Sage’s hand, grabbed Ax harder, burying her face in his neck. ‘I think my father sent them.’

Ax wrapped his arms around her, soothing her like a baby,
sssh, ssh, don’t be frightened, I’m here
. Sage followed a trail of bruised petals to a sink. The remains of a bouquet lay there, torn to tatters. He turned over the fragments, flowers and leaves and stems: natural roses with real old fashioned thorns, dark thorns the colour of old blood, Fiorinda’s scratches explained—

‘Who delivered these?’

‘I don’t know. They were here, and Caf said they were for me. I have no idea.’

‘Was there a card, a message?’

‘No. No one told me they were from him. I KNOW BECAUSE I KNOW!’

‘Leave it, Sage. The flowers don’t matter. I think we have to get the paramedics. She’s in shock, she’s so cold, this isn’t safe.’

‘
No
!’ Fiorinda jumped up, pushing him away. ‘No! I’ll be okay. No doctors no nurses no injections.
Please,
no whitecoats not even hippie whitecoats. I just want to get away from here. Please, please Ax. I don’t want anyone to know, if people see me like this they’ll think I’m no good, they’ll think I’m a pathetic hysterical wipe-out—’

‘All right, okay.’ He put his arms round her again, ‘Ssh, little cat. You won’t have to see anybody. I’ll take you straight back to London.’

But she stared at him in new horror, in what seemed wild fear
for him
: like, how could he suggest anything so insanely dangerous? ‘No, oh no! Not
London
!’

‘What about my van?’ offered Sage, quickly, ‘How d’you feel about the van?’

‘Yes! Sage’s van. Let’s go there.’

She was shivering hard. Ax passed her over to Sage and sought for something to combat that icy chill. He found a thick dark jacket. They put it on her: and a sailor cap from the same heap of DARK’s belongings, pulled down over her eyes. Thus disguised, they tried to walk her to the door, but Fiorinda’s knees buckled.

‘I’m gonna get the van,’ decided Sage. ‘I can bring it round.’

‘You sure?’

‘Better than making her face the public, there are far too many people out there. Fiorinda, I’m going to the Meadow, fetch the van and bring it here. You’re gonna stay with Ax. I will be gone a little while, you’ll look and you won’t see me, but I’ll be back.’

Fiorinda huddled on the chair, knees to her chin, wrapped in the dark jacket. Ax knelt beside her, holding her hand. She didn’t speak, she was completely
out,
teeth bared and locked in rictus, dilated eyes unfocused, the tendons in her neck and hands visible and taut as overstrung wire, breath coming fast and shallow. He talked to her softly, but he didn’t think she could hear him. Maybe it had to happen. She’d been so tough for so long. Maybe it wasn’t serious: but he was terrified. Something appallingly precious, appallingly fragile, was breaking in his hands, he was trying to hold it together but
no way
he could succeed. It was a very long time before the door opened and there was Sage again.

‘We’re on. Short corridor, emergency exit, van right outside. Fee, big effort now. You have to pass for normal, for a short walk. Up. On your feet.’

She stood up, miraculously. ‘I can manage. Do I look strange?’

‘You look very cute and brave,’ said Ax, tugging the sailor cap down to shade her face. ‘You look like you’re being rescued from the sinking of the Titanic.’

‘I’m sorry about this, Ax. I’m sorry Sage. I am
really
sorry.’

‘Sssh.’ Ax kissed her, hugged her briefly. ‘Let’s go.’

The corridor was empty. Fiorinda managed it well, between her bodyguards. Through the emergency exit into the Leisure Centre car park, running the gauntlet of the crowd; to where Sage’s van was waiting. Sage jumped into the cab, Ax lifted Fiorinda, passed her up, climbed after. Sage took the wheel, Ax took the babe, on his knees, holding her tight, and they were out of there, no problem, except for a minor near-miss incident at the exit—

—involving the rear end of a taxi that was taking on passengers.

‘Fuck!’ howled the driver. ‘Who the fuck does he think he is, the crazy fuck!’

‘That was Sage,’ Verlaine told him. ‘Cheer up. You can tell your friends you nearly had Aoxomoxoa in the back of your cab.’

‘Oh, well—’ said the taxi driver, mollified. ‘Well, he’s a crazy fuck.’

‘We’re back to normal then,’ boomed Roxane, as s/he arranged hir silk-lined cloak around hir in the passenger seat; the boys together in the back. ‘For a little while there, I thought we had a grown-up Sage batting for us. Now that
would
have been bizarre.’

‘I saw them, a few minutes ago,’ whispered Chip to Verlaine. ‘
Boy
, they looked hot. Trust me, tonight poor old Fiorinda is nowhere. She is not even going to get her socks off.’

‘You want me to drive you to
Notting Hill
? Jesus. Don’t you know we got a fuel crisis on? Awright, who am I to argue? It’s your money.’

The skull turned to Fiorinda. ‘There. The night is ours. What d’you want to do? Wanna drive out to the motorway bridge and chuck cans at the slaves of the evil empire? Or shall we go into town, go people-watching among the common folk?’

‘You c-can’t take the van into town, Sage.
You know what happened last time.
’

‘How about visiting the Ancient Britons, see if they died yet—?’

‘What Ancient Britons?’ asked Ax, guessing that
last time
must refer to Dissolution Summer. Fiorinda had escaped, back into the days of their innocence. ‘Tell me, I know nothing. Eyes forward Sage, it is customary although I realise it may not make much odds.’

‘It’s the Sun Temple people,’ said Fiorinda, between chattering teeth. ‘If you were a camper, you’d know. God, I’m so cold. They dug some ground, in a field out along the Oxford road. They t-try to grow pure native food things, fat hen, purslane, beechmast—’

‘Beechmast?’

‘Oh yeah,’ said the driver. ‘Old Sun is in this for the long haul.’

‘But they’re dying of starvation, or they
would
be if they played fair. None of it grows.’

‘Or if it does the sacred holy slugs eat it.’

‘Like sacred cows in India. Can’t be touched. Sage keeps ent-t-treating them to hear the voice of the Mother, and top themselves. They get really pissed off.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Well, they are
hardline,’
explained Sage. They were in the arena. The word sounds empty, no such luck, it’s a shapeless mediaeval village having a carnival night. He swerved around a trail of people who had not been planning to give way. Maybe they couldn’t believe the van was real. ‘And here is Gaia giving them the clear message,
you are dead meat
, but they just go down the Organic Grocery van and stock up. Can’t understand it—’

‘Oh, Sage, I am in such a bad way. Oh, doctor, doctor, what do you prescribe?’

‘Cannabis and red wine.’

‘Chocolate.’

‘No chocolate. Chocolate is for Atzecs.’

‘You bastard, you are so full of shit. Sugar. I need sugar.’

‘Think I got some dried apples.’

‘Fuck you. Oranges and bananas.’

‘They don’t grow here, babe.’

‘Yes they do,
they do
. I’ve s-s-seen them—’

‘Not for fucking long, then. How many times do I have to tell you, ignorant brat, global warming makes this country colder, not warmer—’

‘God,
that is so unfair
… Hey, Sage, watch out!’

‘Whoops. Hmm. You know, I really shouldn’t be driving—’

‘M-my least favourite Sage remark. Up there with I did not tempt fate, fate tempted me. You should
never
be driving, you are a menace. Oh, Sage, don’t kill anyone—’

‘I’m not going to kill anyone. No, no, no. Look, they scatter.’ But the van was going round in circles like a vast, lost dodgem car. ‘Ax, have you spotted an exit?’

‘How did you get in?’ said Ax.

‘Can’t remember.’

‘Head for Blue Gate.’

‘That’s what
I’m trying
to do, man. Only, I have to confess, I can’t strictly see what is presumably out there, in the real world. Not in any clear order.’

‘Stop thinking about it,’ advised Ax. ‘Do it on physical, leave your mind out of it.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Tell me when we’re at the van,’ said Fiorinda suddenly, urgently.

‘She okay, Ax?’

She was not okay. They should not have shifted their attention for a moment, her whole body had gone rigid in his arms. He could feel the cold that gripped her spreading, her lungs filling with icy water. But, thank God, Sage had found his way to an access lane. The van was rumbling through a different darkness, elfin glimmers in humped rows of tents: a thump and a crash as he pulled up.

‘What did you hit? Oh, Sage, you hit something.’

‘Water butt. We’re home. I hope I didn’t run over the annexe.’

‘Where’s the van?’

‘Get a grip, Fiorinda. We are
in
the van.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know that.’

As she went ahead of them Sage caught Ax’s forearm, and clocked the blood specked weals on the inner side, as if measuring an index of her distress.

‘You’ve seen her like this before,’ said Ax.

‘Couple of times. Not so bad.’

They followed Fiorinda. Sage touched the wall and a pearly radiance spread. Things had been flying about, during Sage’s navigation of the asteroid belt: a lot of unsecured stuff was on the floor. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Anything breakable in here, I broke it long ago.’

Fiorinda sat on a couch, knees up, arms locked around them, head bowed.

‘Sage, can we handle this?’

‘Oh, yeah. Easy. Administer first aid, talk her down, she’ll be fine.’

Stepping through debris, he opened lockers until he found a bottle of red wine. ‘Fuck, an actual cork. Who bought this? I hate ’em.’ He handed it to Ax. ‘You do it. Ought to be a corkscrew in one of those drawers but I don’t know. This van disappears things as if it was trained by Argentinian paramilitary.’ He pulled a white box from another locker, and advanced on the patient.

‘Fiorinda, gimme a thumb.’

‘What for? I’m all right. I said, I took nothing.’

‘But humour me.’

She gave him her hand, and hid her face again. Sage stood looking down at her, and tapped the implant on his wrist. ‘George… Hi, George. Don’t want anyone near the van tonight. Yeah. Thanks; later.’

‘I have the corkscrew,’ said Ax.

‘Excellent omen. I have the NDogs. We are equipped.’ He took a slim lacquer box from the First Aid, rummaged and selected a handful of poppers.

‘You want some straighten out mix, Ax?’ He slapped a popper against his throat. ‘Mmmph.’

‘What’s in it?’

‘Adrenalin, mostly.’

‘Gimme,’ said Ax; and then, ‘No, wait.’ He was not a hardened NDogs abuser, and those things could be treacherous. Because Aoxomoxoa does it all the time, doesn’t mean anyone else should try. ‘Better not.’

‘You sure?’

‘Me, Teflon head. I’ll stick with what I have, you court cardiac arrest.’

‘Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it.’

‘If you collapse, will your wrist let me get hold of George—?’

‘Course it will. It’ll probably work for hours even if I’m dead… Ah, no. Hey, Ax, I didn’t say that. Come back. Don’t panic, nobody’s going to die.’

‘I am not panicing.’

‘Are you
sure
you don’t want me to straighten you out?’

‘I’m sure. What about Olwen? Could you get hold of Olwen quickly?’

The skull looked amazed. ‘Why Olwen? What made you think of her?’

‘She’s a doctor of medicine, isn’t she? They have emergency stuff in that tent. And I think Fio likes her.’

‘She was a neurologist, don’t know what you’d call her now. Yeah, she’s on the campground. I scream for help, I think she’d come.’