Devil in Disguise (35 page)

‘You do
need it. Swallow it. You will lie awake for hours, otherwise, fretting about
the indignity of your drunken fuck.’

‘But
I’m worried that—’

‘There
is nothing to worry about!’ insisted Lilia. ‘Trust me. Billie Holiday ate them
like Smarties.’

Molly
took the pill, put it into her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of brandy.

‘There,’
said Lilia. ‘That wasn’t difficult, was it?’

‘What’s
good enough for Billie is good enough for me,’ said Molly.

‘We
worked together in the fifties and, of course, she tried to embroil me in a
lesbian affair, but I refused her. She wrote a song called “Our Love Is
Different” about her feelings for me.’

‘Gosh!’
said Molly.

‘Not
one of her finest, but touching, I grant you,’ said Lilia, casually. ‘Now,
then, you need to clean your teeth and wash your face before it takes effect.’

‘Do I?’
asked Molly.

‘Yes.
The fabulous thing about these pills is that your body goes to sleep before
your mind does. It’s a bit like sinking into a warm mud bath. You’ll love it.
Come on.’ She tugged at Molly’s arm and they tottered to the bedroom.

Lilia gradually introduced
drugs into Molly’s daily schedule, telling her it was a fun thing to do, not a
chore. To be a torch songstress with no knowledge of amphetamines was nonsense,
she declared. ‘No one would take you seriously. It simply has to be done.
Besides, Queen Victoria used to suck cocaine lozenges. How do you think those
royals keep smiling all the time?’

To
counteract the morning grogginess caused by the pills Molly was given at night,
a healthy line of cocaine and a cropped straw were laid out for her on a plate
after her breakfast. Lilia explained how to snort the white powder. ‘It will
make you feel perky and bright-eyed. You will whiz round the field with
Heathcliff after this,’ she said. ‘What a treat!’

Another
line was suggested before lunch, after which Molly could barely eat half of her
steamed broccoli and tofu stir-fry. ‘The thought of swallowing anything is
disgusting. I’m just not the least bit hungry,’ she said, pushing her plate
away as Lilia looked on approvingly. The drug also gave her a confidence she
had never known before. ‘God, I’m good,’ she said seriously, to Geoffrey, after
she’d sung ‘Lover Boy’ one afternoon.

In the
evening, after the effects of the cocaine had worn off she would sometimes feel
a little fractious so Lilia rolled her a joint. ‘It will take the edge off the
come-down,’ she said, as she sprinkled the powdery dried green leaves with some
tobacco from a disembowelled cigarette. ‘Enjoy!’

After
her first experience of puffing a spliff, Molly felt so giddy and ill she was
sick into a fruit bowl.

‘Excellent!’
said Lilia. ‘The messier the better. You will have so much to talk about when
you are a huge star giving exclusive interviews to upmarket magazines about
your sleazy past.’

Molly
retched again. ‘I feel like shit,’ she said queasily.

‘Bravo!’
said Lilia, with a chuckle.

‘I
think I’m going to pass out,’ she said, her eyes rolling backwards.

‘That,’
rejoined Lilia, ‘is too much to hope for.’

After a couple of days the
nausea stopped and Molly was able to enjoy the mind-altering effects of her
drug selection. Now she was overcome with a new-found creativity that inspired
her to write some original lyrics of her own. In the evenings she would lie on
the sofa, stoned out of her mind, and dictate to a vigilant Lilia, whose pen
was poised over a smart new red notepad. ‘I used to do the same for Bob Dylan,’
she let slip.

‘You
knew Bob Dylan as well?’ asked Molly, managing to raise her head at least three
inches from the cushion. ‘I thought you were more of a crooner than a folk
singer.’

‘Let’s
just say our careers brought us together and we were close for a while. After
some weed he would close his eyes and think up songs. I wrote them down for
him, and it’s true that I improved them where I could. One evening he wrote a
little trifle called “Like A Rolling Log”. I decided a rolling stone would be
catchier. Of course, he remembered nothing when he woke up in the morning.’

‘Well,’
said Molly, impressed, ‘please feel free to improve on my words too. You
obviously have an ear for such things.’

‘Oh, I
do,’ agreed Lilia. “‘Blowin’ In The Wind” would have been a very vulgar little
ditty if I hadn’t worked my magic on it.’

‘I feel
a lyric coming on now,’ said Molly, closing her eyes and moving her head from
side to side.

‘I am
ready, my dear,’ replied Lilia, as if they were at a séance and about to
contact the other side. ‘What is it you want to say? ‘She leant forward and
tipped her ear to Molly’s mouth as she began to mutter: ‘I’ve got the blues …
I just want to snooze …’

‘No,’
said Lilia, gently. ‘Try a bit harder. What is making you blue? Think.’

‘Daniel?’
offered Molly.

‘He
done you wrong, did he not? Then you have the bad-boyfriend blues. Why don’t
you write a song about that?’

There
was a long pause during which Molly’s breathing became so laboured that she
might have slipped into a deep slumber. But eventually she began to sing:

‘Molly and Daniel were sweethearts ,

Molly and Daniel were one,

Molly and Daniel shared everything,

They sure were having fun,

He was her man. He wouldn’t do her no wrong.

‘Along came Molly’s friend, Simon.

Who was hardly as white as snow

If he had his eye on Daniel

Then how was Molly to know?

He was her friend. He wouldn’t do her no wrong.

‘One night Molly drank too much brandy.

She had to hit the sack.

How was she to know that Simon

Would launch his vile attack?

He was her friend. But he did her wrong.

‘This was a double betrayal.

Her mind just seemed to implode.

Her boyfriend making out with her boyfriend,

In her very own abode!

He was her man. But he was doing her wrong.

‘She went completely doo-lally.

An understandable response:

She’d just seen her lover behaving

Like a low-down, dirty nonce.

He was her man. But he was doing her wrong.

‘Her response was very dramatic,

She smashed everything in sight.

Daniel tried to reason with her,

But she was full of fight,

He was her man. But he was doing her friend.

‘This story has no moral.

This story has no end.

This story only goes to show

That there ain’t no good in men.

They’ll do you wrong,

Just as sure as they were born.’

The
creative flow seemed to dry up. Molly became distracted by the shadows on the
ceiling and her eyes wandered. Lilia closed the notebook. ‘Very promising,’ she
said. ‘A work in progress, at least. Now it is time for your pill.’

It was a cold, rainy
afternoon and Molly had been at Kit-Kat Cottage for ten weeks.

The
phone rang, and Lilia answered in her usual grand manner: ‘This is Lilia
Delvard. How may I help you?’ There was a pause. ‘One moment,’ said Lilia,
curtly. ‘It’s for you.’ She handed the phone to Molly.

‘Really?’
Molly was astonished. She had begun to feel as though she had never existed
anywhere except at Kit-Kat Cottage. Who from the world outside knew she was
there?

A familiar
voice said, ‘Molly, it’s Jane. Are you all right?’

It took
Molly a moment to remember her friend from London. ‘Oh! Yes, hiya, Jane! I’m
fine. How are you?’

‘I’ve
been very worried about you. I called the flat loads of times. Daniel said
you’d left after a row and he didn’t know where you’d gone. You’ve been away
for weeks and you’ve not answered any calls or texts. My psychic juices told me
I needed to track you down and I found this number in my diary from when you
stayed in September. I thought I’d try it on the off-chance.’

‘Well,
you’ve found me. How can I help?’

‘Why
haven’t you been in touch, Molly? I’ve been frantic. We all have.’

‘I’m
having a break,’ said Molly, a trifle petulantly. ‘Things went wrong with
Daniel and me. I needed a new start.’

‘But
you’ve not been in touch with anyone! Even Simon doesn’t know where you are.
Your agent hasn’t got a clue either. If I hadn’t found you by the end of the
week, I was going to call the police. Didn’t you think we’d be worried about
you?’

‘I’m
entitled to run away if I want to,’ Molly said, irritated. ‘I am an adult, you
know.’

‘But
why have you gone to Northampton?’ said Jane. ‘You’ve been there for months
now. What do you do all day?’

‘I’m
fine, Jane, really. I’m looking after myself and finding my feet at the same
time. I know it seems bizarre just to up and leave and never look back. But
people do it all the time. It’s very … refreshing.’ Molly was slurring her
words as the joint took effect.

‘You
don’t sound refreshed. You sound washed out. Tired.’

‘I am.
Both of those things. But I would have been wherever I was. I heeded a break.
I’m perfectly fine here, honest.’

‘Shall
I come and see you? I could drive down tomorrow.’ Jane sounded concerned.

‘No,
really,’ said Molly. ‘There’s no need to do that. I’ll be back in London soon
and we can catch up then.’

Lilia
had appeared in the hallway behind her, and was clearly listening to the
conversation. She locked eyes with Molly.

‘I’m
needed here,’ said Molly. ‘I’m not needed anywhere else. It’s just the way
things have worked out. Keep in touch, won’t you?’ She hung up.

‘Who
was that? One of your musical-theatre friends?’ asked Lilia, lightly, leading
the way back to the lounge.

‘Jane,’
said Molly, following. ‘Actress, actually. Still had my number here from when I
stayed … the first time.’

The
very mention of the past made Molly feel emotional, and the last few words
caught in her throat. She saw herself as she used to be — a happy, flirtatious
girl with bouncing curls and a curvy figure. Now she was thin, with heavy
straight hair that didn’t stir, even in a strong breeze. Lilia preferred her to
wear it parted in the middle, dressed generously with wax and combed straight
down at either side of her face. Molly had lost another stone in the last three
weeks, since her introduction to cocaine, and occasionally a sticky strand
would attach itself attractively (in Lilia’s opinion) to her newly revealed
cheekbones.

Lila
sat down in her chair and looked at her watch. She reached down the side of her
chair and produced a small enamel box. ‘Just time for you to have a snifter
before Geoffrey arrives. ‘She untwisted a small wrap of white powder, fished a
silver mustard spoon from her cleavage and scooped some out, making sure she
didn’t spill any as she brought the spoon towards Molly’s nose. ‘Ready?’ she
asked.

Molly
obligingly tilted her head and raised one hand to her face, using a forefinger
to block one nostril.

‘One,
two, three,’ said Lilia, and Molly, on cue, snorted with gusto.

Lilia
returned the spoon to the bag and took another scoop. ‘Other side,’ she said,
as if she were a nurse wiping a patient’s face with a wet flannel. Molly
swivelled her head and prepared the second nostril for its treat.