thirty-seven
ELFISH, WITH MUCH to do, had a late afternoon drink then felt too tired to carry on. Her drinking had been a problem for some time and now, when she most needed her wits and her energy, it was getting worse. She was becoming more and more frantic about her inability to learn the speech and this worsened every time someone stopped her in the street to ask her about it. Elfish had not bargained for Mo telling everyone and the scale of her impending humiliation left her terrified. It seemed that everyone in Brixton was going to be at the gig and they were all coming early to see Elfish recite Shakespeare.
Many of the people who asked Elfish how she was getting on pretended to be sympathetic to her cause but Elfish suspected that in reality they disliked her and were looking forward to her failing. In this supposition she was correct.
Depressed and unenthusiastic she found it hard indeed to summon up the energy to visit Aisha.
Only when a strong mental image of the hated Mo floated into her head did she manage to rouse herself and leave the house. She walked through the tiny part of Brixton which appeared to be thriving, with a new McDonald’s, a Pizza Hut and a cinema about to be refurbished, much against the will of its patrons, and on along the street till the shops became smaller and grubbier and the pavements were strewn with rubbish.
Her way took her through the Loughborough estate, the first part of which was a truly dreadful collection of grubby white tower blocks separated by windswept and unfriendly patches of grass and concrete. Scaffolding stood around the entire reaches of one huge block. They were being repainted at the rate of one every two years, and young thieves were the main benefactors of this endeavour, using the scaffolding to creep easily into eighth-floor dwellings and burgle the flats, week after week.
Past this came the old red-brick blocks. The concrete that surrounded them also showed signs of refurbishment. Some government grant or other had arrived to spruce up the estate with newly painted railings and a children’s playground, but vicious-looking dogs were the only occupants of the playground and behind every letterbox sat a council-tax demand that none of the occupants could pay.
Aisha lived here. Aisha was familiar to Elfish mainly from her brother’s description of her, although she was well known generally as a woman who suffered from agoraphobia and panic attacks on a regular basis.
Let this go simply, thought Elfish, ringing the bell. I do not want to cope with anybody else’s problems today.
“Go away,” shouted Aisha through the door. “I’m having a panic attack.”
Elfish scowled and bent down to the letterbox.
“Let me in, Aisha, I need your help.”
“I can’t see anybody, it’s too severe,” said Aisha.
“Well, it’s not as fucking severe as it’s going to be if I kick this door down!” screamed Elfish, losing all patience. She raised one large boot.
The door opened, revealing a shaking and trembling Aisha.
“Please go away,” she said.
Elfish barged her way in.
“Put your panic attack to one side for the moment, Aisha. More important matters are afoot.”
The guitarist strode confidently through to Aisha’s main room. It was conspicuously clean and tidy due to Aisha’s habit of doing housework to take her mind off her nerves. Elfish scanned the shelves and found what she was looking for, a bottle of vodka. She helped herself to a swig and shoved it into Aisha’s hand.
“Calm down with this.”
“I’m not meant to do that,” protested Aisha. “The doctors—”
“To hell with the doctors. Take a drink.”
She helped the shaky Aisha to drink some vodka. Aisha’s trembling diminished very slightly.
“Well, now you’re back to normal,” said Elfish. “How about painting me a nice backdrop? Something suitable for a screaming thrash band with the excellent name of Queen Mab, deliverer of dreams.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have any paint or materials. I don’t even have a brush anymore. Mory took them all when he left me.”
Elfish prepared herself to deal with another person’s problems.