There was then an immense roar of delight from all the assembled VIP fans who had attended as special guests, and the friends, family, and crew members in particular joined in. Molly had always been popular.
Frank Lovelace gave Molly a hug, no doubt taking credit for starting her career as a lighting engineer. Walter and Floss brought Molly in between them as their friends all started to take pictures.
Then there was a shout.
“So who was the father, Floss?” It was Selena.
She had stepped forward, toward the center of the tent. So perhaps her machinations, her subterfuges, were not all about me? Did she still hate the idea of Floss having married Walter, the man who had always been her number one?
“Do you even know?” Selena demanded furiously.
Everyone in the marquee went quiet. I froze with fear. There was a ripple of muttered outrage; everyone was clearly bitterly angry with Selena. Some people started to berate her loudly.
“Selena!” Siobhan shouted. “Just stop! Stop this now!”
Frank rushed over and started to manhandle her out of the tent. I interceded.
“No, Frank,” I insisted. “Let me handle this.”
I put my hand in the air and walked over to Walter and took the microphone from him.
I was about to confess. I hadn’t really thought it through, but the impulse to say something was very powerful. As I took a deep breath and the people in the tent began to turn to me, I noticed Ronnie approaching me. Usually so handsome and powerful-looking, he seemed shriveled, his skin pallid, his gait uneven, his skin not bronzed but yellow. Did he have AIDS? Cancer? What could possibly be wrong with him? He reached me, gently took the microphone from my hand, and turned to the audience.
“I am this young woman’s father, I believe.” Ronnie was laughing now. He looked relieved and happy, tottering on his high heels, his face covered in thick makeup; he wore black mascara, blush on his cheeks, bright red lipstick, and his hair was clipped up with a pink clasp. He pulled Molly to his side and stood next to her. “Look at her. She’s totally beautiful. And she’s probably gay, bless her. I’m her father.”
I almost collapsed. I was literally seeing stars; my vision was flashing and I felt unsteady. Had I been saved?
Molly was a tomboy. Ronnie had recently emerged as a cross-dresser. Man, woman, woman, man. Both of them looking exactly as they felt they should, as they felt they were deep inside. Ronnie took it all with aplomb. They met somewhere in the middle. Their faces were almost identical. Was Ronnie right? A DNA test might prove it. A frisson of latent violence suddenly gripped the room as Walter advanced toward Ronnie. Crow went to stop him but Walter turned on Crow and made to throw a punch. Frank stepped in and, to everyone’s astonishment, held Crow and Walter apart by their collars like squabbling kids in a playground. Walter tore himself away abruptly and lunged at Ronnie, throwing a meaty punch that knocked his victim to his knees.
This time Frank and Crow leapt in together to contain Walter, but Ronnie was actually laughing, blood pouring from a cut on his lip. Now two huge gymed-up security guards stepped in and tried to take control. They pulled everyone apart.
Molly seemed moved to have Floss for a mother and maybe gay Ronnie for a father. She was beaming like one of her own follow-spots and light was streaming around the two of them, mother and daughter.
Despite the postconcert gaiety that had prevailed earlier, despite the aura of light surrounding Molly, poor pale-faced Ronnie, bruised and battered, was being circled by some of the guests, chiding him. Some were still very angry. But Molly put herself between them and the fighting was over. I could see Floss was clearly not happy about what Ronnie was admitting; Walter still looked edgy, still ready to fight. He brushed himself down after the fracas. He had recently been disabused of his notion that his wife and her business partner had been conducting a relationship for years, and now here was Ronnie—that very partner—almost bragging about having impregnated Floss when they were both using hard drugs laid on by me, his godfather. Albeit many years before, it was not something he felt deserved such an outburst of flip levity among the backstage guests. As for a violent outburst, if anyone should be angry and get out of line, it should be him.
“Oh, darling,” said Ronnie. He was lying in a heap on the floor and holding his face. “Forgive me, sweetheart. Really.” He turned to Walter. “And Walter, I’m sorry, my friend. I’m all carried away.”
From his position on the floor, Ronnie put his arms out to Floss; he looked like a spurned child reaching out to his mother after some minor misdemeanor. Maud took pity on him and knelt by his side.
“Darling Floss,” Ronnie croaked. “You won’t remember us having sex. It was rape. I’m so sorry. You were completely out of it, but you did enjoy it, I’m sure of that. Not sure I did.”
He started cackling again, like a music-hall queen. He tried to get to his feet but was clearly still dizzy. Then he lay back gracefully into Maud’s arms like La Dame aux Camélias. No one in the room seemed to want to listen to him. Everyone turned away.
Ronnie addressed Walter. “Dammit, Walter,” he said, shifting his sore jaw from side to side and managing to rise onto one elbow. “I’m such a dork. I should have kept this back until a quieter time, but I’m so excited to be a daddy.”
He laughed again, and Walter attempted to laugh with him, but he still looked angry.
“Walter,” pleaded Ronnie, “forgive me, will you? Floss was the only girl I ever had sex with. We love each other. We always have since school, but we have only ever touched each other that once. And that shit Louis gave us was so powerful I really don’t think it should count.”
This justification energized him, and he got to his feet.
He turned to Floss. “You!” He threw up his hands, and with his high heels he must have been at least six feet four inches in height. Wobbling slightly, “Floss, you never told me you had become pregnant.” He was trying to look downcast, but he couldn’t hide his joy for very long. He turned to Molly and hugged her. “I would have been glad to be a father to this beautiful young woman.”
“Ronnie,” chided Floss, “I couldn’t have told you. I didn’t know who had had sex with me. I swear. I wasn’t even sure I’d had sex until I realized I was pregnant.”
I didn’t feel much like staying with the festivities. It was time for me to leave.
Looking back, I can only say that Selena must have cast some kind of spell over me. Every time I looked at her, she behaved as though she had simply been playing some kind of mad, mischievous game. The truth is probably that the pheromones were pouring from her all over again. All I could think about was that my life hadn’t been destroyed and instead this eccentric and extraordinary woman was still by my side.
We were moving to leave, and no one tried to persuade us to stay. The fraudulent spell Selena had attempted to cast had failed, and she took my arm, held her head high, and with her free hand made little waves to anyone who caught her eye before walking out in a stately way, like a deposed French princess being led to the guillotine.
We walked through the park with some stragglers from the audience. When we got to the gates at Hyde Park Corner, we hailed a black taxi and snuggled into the seat. My head was still reeling. I was relieved but didn’t know whether to be angry or happy. As Selena sat back, her belly seemed swollen; she’d either eaten too many cakes or drunk too much bubbly or was again carrying too many angelic spirits. Now she embraced her tummy and looked sideways at me. Fuck, she was so lovely. I hated her then, but she was still so lovely. She saw me looking at her belly.