Her Name Was Lola

73 Her Name Was What?

November 2001. Although Lola has come in very quietly, her mother has heard her and has rushed downstairs to greet her and the sleeping Noah. ‘Even asleep he looks so clever!’ she says.

‘It’s a genetic thing,’ says Lola. ‘But he’s not at all pushy.’

‘You look different,’ says her mother.

‘Well,’ says Lola, ‘I’m four years older than I was four years ago.’

‘I don’t mean that,’ says Lady Bessington. ‘There’s something else.’

‘There’s a lot of something else,’ says Lola. ‘Things change.’

‘Of course things change,’ says her mother. ‘I’m aware of that even with my limited parental intelligence. The thing is to get your changes to connect with the changes around you.’

‘I’m working on it,’ says Lola. ‘I can’t really talk about it yet.’

Noah is put to bed. Lady Bessington, seeing that there isn’t going to be a heart-to-heart, settles for a meaningful hug and a goodnight kiss. Lola has a shower and falls into a deep sleep but wakes up around six and gets dressed. She takes the CD and her sarod and goes to her car. Why the sarod? She couldn’t say, she just feels better when it’s with her. She doesn’t look to see if the Kama Sutra van is nearby, she refuses to accord the dentist any further recognition.

The streets are dark and quiet as she drives to Fulham. Birds are noisy although the day hasn’t properly arrived. She finds a parking space almost in front of Max’s house but she hasn’t planned what to do next. Knock on the door? No. Just slip the CD through the letterbox? With a note? What should the note say? She’ll do a note later. The CD in her hand approaches the letterbox, draws back. Maybe tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes and she does nothing except practise the sarod. ‘What if I leave the CD without a note?’ she says to herself ‘Will he know it’s from me?’

‘Who?’ says Noah.

‘Nobody,’ says Lola. ‘I was talking to myself’

Lola’s parents are worried about the changes in their daughter. ‘Lola dear,’ says Lady Bessington, ‘I don’t want to be intrusive but you seem so troubled. I wish you’d tell me what’s weighing you down.’

‘It ain’t heavy,’ says Lola. ‘It’s my life. Try not to worry.’

Two days after her first trip to Max’s house she again leaves Belgravia alone in the early morning without saying anything to anyone. Again she drives to Fulham. With the sarod. ‘Why Polaris?’ she says to herself. ‘Am I going to serenade him?’ This time there’s a space right in front of Max’s house. She parks and gets out of the car with the CD in her hand. She’s about to start up the steps to Max’s front door when she hears something behind her grunting and breathing hard and there’s Apasmara writhing on the pavement like a dog that’s been run over. ‘You!’ she says. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You know,’ says the dwarf demon.

‘Indeed I don’t,’ says Lola.

‘Yes, you do,’ says Apasmara. ‘You called me.’

‘I did not!’ says Lola.

‘Yes, you did,’ says Apasmara.

‘Did not!’ says Lola.

‘Did,’ says Apasmara.

‘When?’ says Lola.

‘At Diamond Heart,’ says Apasmara. ‘You opened yourself to me, you held me in your mind. Ummm. Now you’ve sent me here to do my thing, yes.’

‘Rubbish!’ says Lola. ‘You may have occurred to me in a moment of confusion but I didn’t send you here. Go away.’ Suddenly Apasmara does his jumping-spider trick and he’s in her arms, cradled like an infant. God! how he stinks. And he’s so heavy.

‘Hold me,’ he murmurs like a lover.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Lola, but before she can stop him he kisses her and slides his tongue into her mouth. Ugh! She heaves Apasmara off her but he grabs the CD, flattens himself, and dives through the letterbox with the CD in his hand. Lola hears it land on the mat inside.

‘Whatever,’ she says. She wipes her mouth with no memory of how it got wet, no recall of the whole encounter. She’s shaking all over but she manages to drive back to Belgravia safely where she opens the door, steps inside, and faints.