Her Name Was Lola

31 Lola Lola

April 1997. Poole Hospital. ‘Ich bin die fesche Lola,’ sings Max’s mind. ‘Tee-tumty-tumty-tum.’

‘Ah!’ says Max. ‘Haunt me, Lola!’

The memory that haunts him is from February, shortly after he and Lola did the I Ching. They’d arranged to meet at his place, and when Lola arrives she says, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ Then she heads for the bathroom with her Nike sports bag that she uses for an overnighter. In a few minutes she knocks three times on her side of the closed door.

‘Who’s there?’ says Max.

‘Lola Lola,’ says Lola. The door opens and here she is in a black corset, frilly black knickers, suspender belt, black stockings and black high heels. She strikes a pose with feet apart, hands on hips.

‘Wow,’ says Max. ‘Dietrich never looked this good.’

‘Ich bin die fesche Lola, der Liebling der Saison. Ich hab’ ein Pianola zu Haus in mein Salon,’ sings Lola, with her upper-class English accent. ‘I am the dashing Lola, the darling of the season. I have a Pianola at home in my salon.’

‘Is that where you got your name?’ says Max.

‘Not really,’ says Lola. ‘I had a grandmother named Lola, but Daddy has always been a big Dietrich fan, and when I was little he used to bounce me on his knee and sing me that song from The Blue Angel. He only knew the first line but he’d tumty-tum the rest and give me a kiss at the end. Actually he still sings it to me now and then.’

‘With the knee ride and the kiss?’ says Max.

‘No, he stopped the knee rides when I was about fourteen.’

‘About time, too,’ says Max. ‘What about the kiss?’

‘Well, you know — fond parent, only child.’

‘On the mouth?’

‘Yes. Have you got a problem with that?’

‘Maybe. I won’t ask about his tongue.’

‘A notable show of restraint,’ says Lola. ‘Would you like to help me out of this corset?’

‘Yes,’ says Max in his bed in Poole Hospital. The essence of Lola is feeding into him as it were intravenously. Never until now has he felt the charm of her, the strangeness, the sweetness and the pathos of her running in his veins like this. ‘Lola, Lola, Lola,’ he whispers.

‘Did you call me?’ says Nurse Laura, approaching on sturdy footsteps.

‘Just talking to myself,’ says Max.