Пит Таунсенд - The Age of Anxiety

Selena was suddenly serious. Their voices were loud enough for me to hear.

“I’ll never have a family,” I heard her say. “Fuck knows what it is I always feel I’m carrying. But it isn’t a child.”

“I know what you’re feeling,” said Floss. “You’re feeling I’ve stolen the man you lusted after for years.” She laughed, throwing her head back as she did so. “Cheer up; it’s my wedding day. Let’s talk about all this again later.”

“Yes,” agreed Selena readily. “So you’re going to be a married woman and do the school run, and shop in M&S and wash Walter’s undies?”

“I want to breed horses, not children,” retorted Floss. “I want to start a stable, and a stud. Our friend Ronnie Hobson—the gay guy from school—he is going to be my business partner.”

“I have always adored Ronnie,” said Selena. “He’ll be a wonderful help. He’s funny and camp, but he’s incredibly smart. And he’s big too. You know he’s won most fights he’s ever been involved in? He won’t abide being teased or insulted about being gay. He’ll keep you safe from all those horny old men at gymkhanas.”

Then, his ears no doubt burning, Ronnie appeared, looking as lean, fit, and bronzed as an Argentinian polo player.

“The girls!” he shouted, and slapped his thigh a little theatrically. “Here we all are again. Together. The three mousquetaires.” They all laughed.

“Floss has been telling me about the new business you’re getting into,” said Selena, seeming to be genuinely happier for a moment.

“It’s going to be perfect ,” said Ronnie as the girls made space between them on the bench, and looking back and forth as he spoke. “I am very good with horses, always have been. Floss is a good rider, but we want to build up a stud. Maybe even bring on some thoroughbreds.”

I stood a few feet away. The champagne didn’t seem to be agreeing with me. I was listening to their conversation when Ronnie saw me.

“Come over here, Lou darling!” He was gesturing to me.

I joined them. “Sorry, Floss.” I feigned regret. “I overheard you. So no kids, but foals and colts?”

“That’s it,” confirmed Floss. “Ronnie is my man for breeding.”

Was there a hint of double entendre there? It was strange to hear Ronnie described as a masculine and capable figure. I hadn’t really known the three of them when they were younger, not until Walter’s first wedding. And Ronnie had grown since then, and not just in stature. He seemed stronger and lighter at heart.

“Were you and Floss ever an item?” I was amazed to hear the question come out of my mouth.

The three of them laughed, but it was Floss who came to my rescue.

“Ronnie would have been my first love if he hadn’t been gay, and I love him still, platonically. With Selena, he’s my best friend.” She put her arm around Ronnie’s shoulder. “I hope that Walter and I can be friends the way Ronnie and I have always been.”

Then, turning to me and looking up into my eyes, she said something that touched me deeply.

“And Louis, I’ve always really liked you too.” She obviously didn’t want me to feel left out of their little trio. “I’m off soon on my honeymoon. Look after these two for me.”

“Well.” I could feel my face was flushed. “Thanks for that. I’ll try. And good luck with the stud. I’m sure it’ll be a lot of work to get going, but you two seem the right couple for the job.”

“Will it be expensive?” Selena asked the pertinent question.

“Walter has money now,” Floss explained. “He has agreed to help set us up.” Floss saw that Selena was looking distracted.

“Don’t be jealous,” she pleaded, reaching out and holding Selena’s hands in her own.

“Don’t be daft!” Selena dismissed the idea. “Just don’t hurt Walter. My sister was a complete bitch to him. She was an intellectual snob. It was as though Walter was never good enough for her. You must know—I realize this is not the right moment, but Walter was terribly shaken when Siobhan left him. He was deeply hurt. He looks tough, but he isn’t. You know I tried to help him. I saw it all coming but I was the wrong person. The little sister, dammit. Floss, make him happy. He deserves it.”

Not long after our conversation ended and Floss had gone off to find Walter, suddenly cameras whirred all around. Confetti filled the air. Floss looked stunning. The diamond in her front tooth glinted, but as her hair shone and her eyes sparkled, such synthetic adornments were of little consequence. As I’ve said, Walter seemed lighter, and settled; he had a new dignity. They got into a massive limousine, waved through the lowered windows, and were gone in a cloud of dust thrown up from the gravel drive.

Iwas probably the only person close to Walter who had some inkling of the reason for his absolute withdrawal from show business once he was married to Floss. Many of his friends looked to her for an answer, citing the rather elite life she led riding and breeding horses. But I knew that Old Nik had said something that had triggered a reaction in Walter, even frightened him.

At his home with Siobhan, Walter had always had a small studio with a piano and recording equipment. Now in his new house with Floss, he kept only the piano, and he played it rarely. Music, once such an enormous part of his life, fell into the sidelines of his days. Walter didn’t even listen to music anymore. What was so strange about their home, and I was invited there only occasionally, was that they had no television, no music system, not even a radio. Instead they had a small cinema in the cellar, where they watched movies on DVD. If you tried to get Walter to discuss a movie, he would pretend to remember nothing much. The only interest he spoke about with enthusiasm was his garden.

After their marriage Walter and Floss had rented a five-bedroom thirties house in the leafy part of Sheen, within walking distance of Richmond Park and just a pleasant stroll away from my apartment. I visited as often as I was allowed. There were riding stables by several of the gates into the park, which suited Floss well, and Walter had chosen a property with a garden, laid mainly to utility lawn surrounded by a few mature trees needing surgery, that the owners were delighted for him to bring to life. The house was set back on a road that was fairly quiet even at rush hour. When legions of local mothers collected their kids from the various schools in the neighborhood, there were occasional snags, but Walter had no reason to venture out. In any case, he rode a scooter. Floss used their big Volvo 4x4 to get to and from the various stables she used, or walked through the park to the one nearest their new home. Walter had few distractions. Planes flew low overhead on their way to Heathrow, but he quickly got used to their noise.

He had found his home with Siobhan in South Ealing more amenable in some ways, he told me. He had liked the variety of ethnic types who lived there, whereas in Sheen Walter felt entirely surrounded by the British middle classes.

This was my manor. Up in my flat that doubled as a gallery on Richmond Hill, I became a familiar figure in the area to young trendy people interested in the Outsider Art that celebrities were starting to collect. I held my exhibitions in various local buildings, such as the White Lodge in Richmond Park and Orleans House on the River Thames. In fact there was a large Swedish community in the area, and a fair representation of Japanese and Asian business families. However, Walter, with no children at school, would have little occasion to meet them, and wasn’t really aware of his neighbors in the usual ways. So he lived among them but, unlike me, at a distance. Walter was rather isolated, and deeply involved in creating his complex garden maze using faux hedges of woven willow rods and various creeping plants rather than the slower-growing yew.