Devil in Disguise (14 page)

Lilia
bowed her head, and Molly heard a quiet sob. ‘This is such a Disney moment,’
said Lilia. ‘Crying is the least I can do.’

Molly
got up, then sat on the other side of the bed so that Joey’s skinny, withered
legs lay between them. She took Lilia’s hand and clasped it to her chest. ‘You
are a star, Lilia. Never forget that. Come and have some champagne. Meet your
public.’ Molly released her hand and the two of them hugged, forming an arc
over Lilia’s supine spouse.

Molly
returned to the lounge, poured more drinks and reassured everyone that the
hostess would be with them shortly. The excitement was on the brink of souring
if Lilia didn’t appear soon. It was now almost half past one, and the
stagehands were restless and keen to go now that the beer had been drunk. Peter
was getting positively militant with indignation. ‘What is this? I’ve never
waited so long for someone to make an appearance in all my life! I mean, you’ve
done your best as a warm-up act, girl, and good on you for trying, at least.
But don’t you think it’s time you served up the main course?’

‘Lilia
will be here any moment,’ Molly said, as winningly as she could. ‘Come on,
Peter, just a few more minutes. Have another drink. I’ve kept a bottle of
champagne back just for you.’

With
Peter placated, Roger sidled up. ‘You want to tell Lilia to get a move on,’ he
murmured. ‘I hear rumblings. Renata’s getting very loud. That peppermint
schnapps is going down as if it was a can of Lilt. And Duncan’s been giving
Peter death stares for the last twenty minutes. Unless something distracts them
soon, they’ll be wrestling each other to the floor. Christine appears to be
rolling a joint and I can feel one of my heads coming on. You’d better do
something.’

‘All
right!’ said Molly, feeling desperate and wondering what on earth she
could
do.

As if
on cue the door swung open and everyone fell silent. An intriguing shadow came
through the door first, and then a magnificent Lilia, head held high and
steady, her hair fashioned into a fox-red candyfloss halo, her dress glimmering
and gleaming in the light. Her hands were resting on her hips. She surveyed the
room. ‘
Wilkommen!
I’m so glad you could all make it.’ She bowed.

After
an awkward pause Duncan started the clapping and soon everyone joined in.
Renata let out a couple of appreciative whoops. Peter passed Lilia a glass of
champagne and shook her hand, suddenly rather bashful. ‘A magnificent gown
you’re wearing this evening, Miss Delvard. Thank you for having us to your
lovely party.’

‘Thank
you,’ said Lilia graciously. ‘I wore this dress when I appeared at Carnegie
Hall. Tom Jones asked me to marry him that night.’

‘Really?
That’s amazing!’ said Peter. ‘Tom Jones has been married for years, hasn’t he?’

‘Or was
it Liberace? I forget.’

The
rest of the visitors swirled around her.

‘Allow
me to introduce myself,’ said Renata. ‘I’m Renata Maxwell. Contralto and
Katisha in
The Mikado.’

‘Ah! A
young Lauren Bacall!’ declared Lilia, which went down very well.

‘So
thrilled to meet you,’ Renata gushed. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing you
sing.’

‘We
shall see,’ said Lilia, waving her hands in front of her as if bothered by a
fly..

‘Fantastic
makeup!’ said Christine, bobbing up and down in front of Lilia like an
exuberant child.

‘Thank
you,’ said Lilia. ‘I learnt makeup application during my time in Hollywood. Have
you heard of a film called
Cleopatra?’

‘With
Elizabeth Taylor?’

‘That’s
the one. I was Libby’s stand-in.’

‘Wow!’
exclaimed Christine.

‘She’s
a sweetheart. Never well, though. Even then. It’s me you can see in all the
Nile scenes. Miss Taylor had a bout of intestinal hurry. We were so alike no
one ever twigged.’

‘I can
see the resemblance even now,’ said Christine, admiringly.

‘It
helps if you half close your eyes and look at my left profile. ‘Lilia turned
her head obligingly.

‘Oh,
yes!’ said Christine, excitedly. ‘It’s uncanny!’

Lilia
glided a yard away from her and tapped Roger on the shoulder. ‘So glad you
could come, Roger. And many thanks for placing the invitation on the
noticeboard for me.’

‘Always
happy to oblige,’ said Roger.

‘The
Derngate holds a special place in my heart. It was a very memorable night.’

‘I’ll
say,’ said Roger. ‘Lots of people are still talking about it.’

‘I’m
sure,’ said Lilia, nodding. ‘Now, pass me a fork, would you?’

Roger
handed her one from the table and Lilia tapped the side of her champagne glass
to gain everyone’s attention.

Molly
had been hovering at her shoulder, entranced by her landlady’s charm. She had
spoken to almost everyone. Now Molly stood back to bask in her star quality.

‘Thank
you, thank you,’ Lilia began. ‘May I thank you first, most sincerely, for
making the trek out here into the wilds. It means a great deal to me that you
took the time and trouble.’

A
gentle spatter of applause rippled through the room. Lilia paused, waiting for
it to subside before she continued, ‘I am very touched.’

‘I’ll
say,’ muttered Roger. Molly gave him an angry nudge.

‘The
showbusiness world, I thought, had forgotten me, ‘continued Lilia, oblivious.
‘But then Fate brought the beautiful Molly to my door. In the few short days
she has been here she has shown me such kindness. And now, tonight, she brings
me new friends — all of you!’

‘Will
you sing for us, Lilia?’ asked a rather intoxicated Renata. ‘It would be such a
treat.’

‘I
will, if you insist, delve briefly into my glorious past.’

‘Hurrah!’
said Peter, raising a glass.

‘Spare
us,’ murmured Roger. ‘Trust me, I’ve been here before.’

‘I
would like to begin with a song written for me in 1950 by James Shelton.’ Lilia
cleared her throat and stroked it with her hand. She closed her eyes and opened
her mouth. At first there was nothing, then a low, steady I-sound. It got
louder until, like a paper plane taking off, Lilia launched herself,
unaccompanied, into the song.

‘I lost myself on a cool, damp night

Gave myself in that misty light

Was hypnotised by a strange delight

Under a lilac tree.’

Lilia
sounded a little tremulous, but this added poignancy to her rendition. It was
slow and regretful. As she sang her voice grew stronger and she opened her
eyes. She didn’t just sing the song, she acted it, gaining intensity, her hands
grasping in front of her at a bottle-shaped hallucination. She warbled through
a second verse, then a third, and ended on a long, deep vibrato note.

‘Bravo!’
shouted Peter, when she finally ran out of breath.

‘More!’
cried Renata. ‘It’s divine.’

‘She’s
got the auditory equivalent of beer goggles on!’ hissed Roger.

‘Thank
you so much,’ said Lilia. ‘And now — ‘Peel Me A Grape’!’

Halfway
through this number Duncan joined in on the piano with some jazzy chords. By
the end everyone, except Roger, was keeping the beat with finger-clicking,
while Molly and Renata hummed backing harmonies.

‘What
is this?’ asked Roger. ‘Sing-along-a-Granny-o?’ But no one paid any attention
to him and Lilia didn’t seem to hear his catty remark.

Another
bottle of schnapps was opened and passed round, as Lilia continued to entertain
her guests with ‘Honeysuckle Rose’, ‘May I Never Love Again’ and ‘Old Devil
Moon’.

‘Frank
Sinatra told me he preferred my version of that song to his own,’ Lilia told them
afterwards.

By now
Peter’s enthusiasm had waned and he tapped his watch, looking worriedly around
the room. ‘This is all very lovely, but has anyone seen the time? Almost half
past two!’

‘It’s
not exactly Ronnie Scott’s, is it?’ said Roger, quietly, giving Molly a
meaningful look.

‘I
shall finish with some Kurt Weill,’ said Lilia. ‘I think I just about have the
energy. After all, these are the songs written by the man I believe to be my
father.’ She left a pause for this impressive fact to sink in. The medley was
comprehensive, from early obscure songs sung in German right through to ‘Mack
The Knife’. The audience were fading by the end, although Molly was mesmerised,
her eyes shining with pride and admiration. The final applause was consequently
a little tired and short, and Duncan, Peter, Roger and Renata jumped up almost
immediately to indicate the end of the evening. Sam and Michael were soundly
asleep on the sofa while Marcus was staring into his beer can.

Lilia
raised her voice. ‘Again, thank you all for coming. I leave you with the words
carved on my father’s gravestone:

‘“This is the life of men on earth,

Out of darkness we come at birth

Into a lamplit room and then

Go forward into dark again.”’

With
that she bowed to the room and swept out, with only Molly clapping now.

‘My
poor cat’ll be starving,’ said Roger. ‘Come on, I reckon I can fit everyone in
my car, if Sam goes on the back of Marcus’s bike and Duncan sits on Peter’s
lap.’

Everyone
stood up and headed out, mumbling their thanks. The front door slammed and feet
hurried down the gravel path. There was a loud guffaw and stifled giggles, then
the sound of car doors and an engine being started. Finally it zoomed off into
the distance and there was silence.

Simon had forgotten about
the drag competition as soon as he’d posted his entry in the box. A couple of
minutes later he had staggered out of the pub and headed to Clapham Common to
try his luck with the shadowy figures who lurked there. When Jimmy, the manager
of the pub where the competition was to be held, called him a couple of days
later to confirm his appearance, he was more than a little baffled. Fortunately
he was on his second glass of Veuve du Vernay and therefore in a rather good
mood.

‘Did I
really fill in an entry form? Good heavens! I blame the lager in the Two
Brewers. I’m sure it was off. I ended up having sex in a skip that night with
the captain of the Lowestoft rugby team. At least, that’s who he said he was —
Charles said he recognised him from the menswear department at Bentalls.
Typical.’

‘You
were swallied,’ said Jimmy, in his thick Glaswegian accent. ‘You’re Genita
L’Warts, apparently. But if you’d like to withdraw, I’ll understand, aye? We
willnae send the police round.’

‘I
cannot, for a moment, imagine myself appearing on stage. In drag. It’s
unthinkable. I’m never drinking again.’

‘That’s
a shame,’ said Jimmy. ‘Genita L’Warts is a great name.’

‘I was
very drunk. I’d have signed up for the Foreign Legion if you’d put the form in
front of me. No, I don’t think so, thanks all the same.’

‘The
prize is five hundred pounds and first dibs at the after-show buffet.’

‘Really?’
There was a pause. Then something seemed to possess Simon. ‘Count me in. I’ll
be there,’ he blurted out.

‘You
sure now?’ said Jimmy. ‘There’s no pressure…

‘Oh,
yes, I’m sure,’ said Simon, firmly.

‘Brilliant,’
said Jimmy. ‘Be there by nine and the show starts at eleven.’

‘You
can depend on me,’ said Simon, and hung up. He stared at the phone with a kind
of excited horror. What had he done? He’d never felt the slightest desire to be
a drag queen, and now he was going to be in a competition. It was daring and
different. Well! he thought. This calls for a bottle of
Cava.

The next day, Simon paced
round his flat thinking and smiling. He felt more excited and invigorated than
he had for ages. In the hallway he looked at himself in a mirror and tried to
imagine what sort of woman he would make. ‘Genita L’Warts,’ he said quietly,
several times. ‘Who the devil are you? Friend or foe?’ He giggled.