I never earned a cent from the American tour. Demetrius deferred all responsibility to ‘our mutual patroness, Frau Christa Paffgen’, who, of course, pointed me straight back to Demetrius. He explained that I should be satisfied with getting such interesting ‘trips out’.
It transpired that the promoter had actually tried to be decent and had sent some of our back pay to England. The good doctor had immediately spent it on whores and roulette.
We were back on Echo’s sofa. Cheese and pickle sandwiches. Endless brews of PG Tips, percolating grievances. The goldfish had died and been replaced by a tank of pondwater and some black snails. More significantly, the Venus of the Fireplace had been removed and in its place was a picture of the Virgin of Fatima, swathed in rosary beads.
Nico had a piece of opium the size of a Hershey Bar. She was now on first-name terms with every witchdoctor in town. They were happy to do business with her … and Demetrius loved to indulge her. To gain the affections of one so wicked and heartless was reward in itself. Nico, of course, continued to abuse him behind his back.
‘Thinks he’s the big impresario, strutting around like that, while I play provincial toilets.’
Le Kid chirped in, ‘Yezz … my muzzerre should play ze Carnegie’All.’
We had Germany and France united once more against the Common Enemy. Le Kid had innate pedigree and, after all, he’d grown up in the company of the Beautiful People – he could do without humiliating handouts.
‘’Ee is so voolguerre – really.’
Demetrius and the children returned with some friends for the snails. Each of them carried a plastic bag of water with a fish in it. They were like fancy finned goldfish, but black.
‘More dependants,’ lamented Echo wearily.
Ari went into flip city. ‘Zat you spend all ze time in frivolité and my muzerre’as no monnaie.’
Demetrius pointed out that if Nico chose to spend her income on drugs instead of food and rent like normal people, that was her choice – and not his responsibility.
‘The Miseries – why don’t you just damn well cheer up? Ask yourselves what spiritual and moral right you have to sit around all day denigrating the efforts of people who at least try to do something.’
I went to the bathroom to escape for a minute and clear my head. There were three fish in the sink. I closed the toilet seat, sat down and lit a cigarette. My hands were shaking. Nico started to bang on the door.
‘Hurry up, Jim, pleeeease.’
I let her in. She immediately got out her toolbox and arranged her works – all the refinements, the lemon, the candle. It was a genteel diversion for a middle-aged spinster lady, a bit like needlepoint.
I picked something up … Echo’s methadone bottle. On the label was a warning: ‘Keep In A Safe Place Away From Children.’