Her Name Was Lola

28 Overload

March 1997. It’s 01:15 so it’s the 22nd now. Lola has just made her announcement and Max has said his very few words. It’ll take about ten minutes to come down from Mai Dun and walk back to the car. Not much traffic at this time in the morning so it’s maybe two and a half hours back to Fulham. Say a total of two hours and forty minutes that have to be filled with something. ‘What am I going to say?’ Max says to his mind. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘Don’t ask me,’ says his mind. ‘What we have here is overload. All I want to do is be somewhere else.’

‘That makes two of us,’ says Max.

‘Two of us what?’ says Lola.

‘Two of us with something to think about.’

‘You said you’re happy about it but you don’t seem happy,’ she says.

‘It’s a lot to take in,’ says Max. He squeezes her hand but she doesn’t squeeze back.

‘I’ve never come here with anyone else,’ says Lola. ‘Never said the names of the seven at midnight on this day of the year with anyone before.’

‘I’ll never forget this day and night as long as I live,’ says Max.

‘You look, you sound, as if you’re saying goodbye,’ says Lola.

‘The present is always saying goodbye to the past,’ says Max.

‘You never used to talk bollocks like that,’ says Lola. ‘Wait a minute — do I smell Lula Mae Flowers again?’

‘Deny everything,’ says Max’s mind.

‘I cheat,’ says Max, ‘but I don’t lie.’ Saying it out loud. Did he mean to?

‘So you’ve slept with her,’ says Lola.

‘I’m afraid so,’ says Max.

‘Stop there,’ says his mind, ‘or you’ll be doing more harm than you can ever undo.’

‘Say more,’ says Lola. ‘I need to know the whole thing so this day can be complete.’

‘She’s …’ Max pauses as he looks into the abyss.

‘O my God,’ says Lola. ‘Don’t say it. Say it.’

‘Pregnant,’ says Max.

‘Pregnant!’ says Lola. She recoils as if she’s been smacked in the face with a dead mackerel. ‘You bastard! And while your baby’s growing in her belly you crawl on top of me and do me one more time for good measure. You’re disgusting. Stupid, stupid me! I brought you here and we did our stupid little ritual because I thought I was your one and only and you were mine. I thought I was your destiny woman — that’s what you called me in the Coliseum Shop and everyone turned to look, remember?’

‘I remember.’

‘And this would be our destiny child,’ says Lola.

‘We need to talk about all of this,’ says Max feebly.

‘No, we don’t.’ They’re in the car now, the Jaguar snarls, leaps forward with a VROOM, and they’re off to the Weymouth Road and up to the A3 5.

Max can’t think of anything useful to say and Lola preserves a stony silence as she looks straight ahead into the darkness and the yellow motorway lights. Names and numbers of exits grow large in front of them, small behind them. Arrows point to right and left, up and down. ‘You’re driving too fast,’ says Max. ‘Remember, we’ve had quite a bit to drink.’

‘Yes,’ says Lola.

‘Where did the raven go?’ thinks Max as the car veers off the motorway, plunges down an embankment, and crashes into something concrete with numbers on it.