The Watermark (part 2 of 5)

 As the night progressed to early morning, Thomas began to feel very tired, and rather drunk. He said his good-nights and went into his small room, fumbled out of his clothes and lay on the bed listening to the conversation, until he heard someone suggested they all go to some place to hear some Fado. Then it was quiet, accept for the sound of music coming over the roof from the main square. Thomas drifted into sleep.

 He was awoken a few hours later by gales of laughter coming from the rooms downstairs. He could hear the voices of several people. There would be moments of silence, followed by squirting sniggers, then shrieks of subversive merriment, and laughter that leapt like leopards. Thomas listened till it went quiet again, and he could sleep further.

 He awoke once more with the urge to go to toilet. The house was quiet, so he got up pulled on his trousers and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen.

 There, to his utter shock, lay a blonde girl on the couch, out cold, naked except for a very small pair of pink panties, with her hands and feet trust up with layers of brown duck-tape. And what a mess someone had made of her...! There were all kinds of ornaments, ashtrays, candlesticks, and such, heavily taped to parts of her body, giving her a half robot look! And the whole of her milky white body had been illustrated with graffiti and childish drawings!

 They had given her a clown's face with lipstick. On her large breasts were drawn squadrons of Second World War aeroplanes involved in a dog-fight! Intricately drawn, in coloured pens: front views of on-coming Spitfires; propellers spinning, spiting red tracer bullets before them. Planes with swastikas spiralling down in flames off the curve of her breasts!

 Thomas was aghast, and didn't know how to react, he was embarrassed by her nakedness, he wanted to go back to his room, but the pressure on his bladder forced him into the toilet.

 By the time he came out he had decided he would free her – he couldn't just leave her like that! He bent over her and began trying to pull the tape from her hands, but was getting nowhere. He looked around the kitchen and saw a large knife on one of the worktops. He took it up and tried getting the blade behind the tape to cut through it without hurting her. But it was difficult because of all the stuff taped to her. As he was pulling at the tape the clown's face suddenly came to life, the eyes sprang open, saw the knife in the hand of a stranger—a semi-naked stranger – and began to scream like a burning soprano, which deafened Thomas and made him jump back!

 He tried to calm her. But her panic stricken eyes saw only him and the knife. She struggled frantically, but unable to move she screamed ever louder for her life, she thought she was about to lose!

 Suddenly, the doors to the kitchen began to burst open and there was Carl, Greg, and Kent, standing in their boxer shorts, and from the stairs below came the guy called Ron, followed by Amanda wearing a very short red satin wrap.

 As Carl took in the situation, he removed the knife from Thomas' hand, while Amanda ran to Maggie's side – for that was who the weeping girl was. Greg and Kent had looked at each other, and burst into uncontrolled laughter. Thomas was shaking. Carl was trying to tell, the now sobbing Maggie, that Thomas was the new lodger. Thomas began apologizing, telling her he had meant her no harm; he was only trying to cut her free. It took a long time to calm her down, and get her loose.

So that was how life was at 'The Love Shack,' as it had started to be known around the scene. From that first day the house – a mix of bar workers and artists, and hangers-on – to Thomas became  curiouser and curiouser! It could from day to day swing from merely strange to utter madness!

 The next day after the above incedent, it seems Carl had had words with Greg and Kent, and one or two others from the Hot Rats, about the stunt they'd pulled on Maggie. He told them they had gone too far! And they say, it had almost come to blows, when one of the bar staff made a sick joke about Maggie and Carl! Well, that was at least typical of the old Carl, thought Thomas; he was always chivalrous! And he hated bullies!

 Over the following days Carl showed Thomas around the town, taking him in the bars and introducing him to whoever they met. Sunday after taking coffee on the square, they strolled down to the beach to one of the beach-bars – the place to be – where every Sunday a lot of the off-duty bar crews hung out, drinking, playing volleyball, or swimming.

 Monday, was Thomas' first day at school, and even though he was really nervous, everything went without a hitch, just as Carl had said it would. He only had to spend a little time looking over the planed lessons to understand what was expected of the students. He had only five hours a day, three days a week. His working day was from twelve until five. The classes were small, a maximum of eight students, mostly in their twenties. The lessons were only forty five minutes long, which enabled him to sit in the garden and smoke a cigarette, and prepare for the next lesson. It only took a couple of weeks for Thomas to really get the heft and hang of it, and he found himself actually enjoying it. His days were from Monday to Wednesday, from two till seven, while Carl worked from ten until three – Tuesday till Thursday, so sometimes they met over coffee in the school garden. He got the impression Carl was a little aloof from everyone there, which he couldn't understand.

 Greg and Kent had, after the incident with Maggie, started referring to Thomas as Norman Bates, or just Norman. Whenever he appeared they would mimic the music from the Psycho shower scene; 'DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!' Thomas took it stiffly, would force a sliced smile; he felt uncomfortable around them. He was becoming an easy tease. Greg was dry and sarcastic, while Kent was more jolly with his banjo-playing-smile. It seems they were a couple of blades with the ladies. Whenever he came home he never knew what would await him; they seemed to have an unending reportage! A theatre of indiscretion and bad taste! But he also realized they were just young, and weren't really bad guys. And when they were alone each became more an agreeable characters.

 Amanda, the painter lady, Thomas thought interesting, but they rarely met. She spent a lot of her time in her studio on the ground floor, or trying to sell her work from a stall in the square. She was reserved, and except for Carl – the only one invited into her studio -- she didn't mix much with the people in the house. Thomas would say hello when he saw her on the square, surrounded by her pictures; mostly of the harbour. But Sundays, she was always a part of the scene at the beach-bar. Always wearing a skimpy light blue bikini. Thomas couldn't keep his eyes off her, and she always swam topless.

After a week or so, Carl stopped taking Thomas out. He said he was cutting him free – leaving him to his own devices – that he should start to explore Lagos for himself.

 Thomas thought Carl had really changed over the years. He thought about how he used to be – how they used to be, and then how he was now. He thought about that first night on the patio – had Carl put on a show for him—with all that talk of Quantum Physics and stuff – was it all to impress him? It was obvious Carl was popular here, as he would be anywhere. He always seemed to have people to meet, or somewhere to be. Sometimes he would be gone for a couple of days – or for a long weekend on the West Coast; 'to get away from the tourists,' he'd say. He would always show up just in time for his lessons at the school. Greg or Kent would tell Thomas, 'Carl is having another dirty weekend teaching beach!' Or 'He's getting jiggy, or throwing shapes on the West Coast with one of his students!'

 Thomas was also having trouble with the weather. He was always too hot! The sweat would run into his eyes, and his shirt would stick to him, sometimes it was just so irritating..., and at night it was difficult to sleep.... He would lay on the bed with the window and door open, trying to let some air into the hot little room, which would also let in all the sounds coming from the packed square: the monotonous sound of the panpipes of the Peruvian musicians, or the bars playing loud rock and roll, and the voices of the crowds from the square humming like a hive of giant bees.

 When it all became too much, Thomas would walk down to the beach, or to the Rooftop; a bar Carl had shown him, which was actually on a roof top, and was cooler, and you could listen to the Fado singers till the early morning. This was where many of the bar workers came after work – another one of the places to be!

 The streets were crowded with tourists – so full you had to walk very slowly among them. Carl would sometimes suggest different places for Thomas to go – where he could eat at reasonable prices. Thomas would follow his instructions of how to get there, and he would end up in some god-awful, grubby, little place in the back streets, where no one spoke English, and he didn't feel safe. At which, Carl would laugh when Thomas told him.

 So he begun eating at the more expensive places in the square, or along the promenade. He had his redundancy money, and the money from the school, so felt he didn't have to economise. During the day, when he wasn't working, he would hang out in the cafés or go to the beach bars, or to Lost Nights to drink a beer and chat with whoever was working there.

 Evenings, Carl would often turn-up at The Rooftop with a woman, or a group of friends, whom Thomas had never seen before. Carl would introduce him to them, as his friend from England. Most of them would ask him if he was on holiday. He would make a point of saying he worked here – it sounded good not to be a tourist. These people were always arty types, who Thomas found hard to talk to. He felt something was being measured in him, or against Carl. He wasn't sure if he was up to that....

 Time seemed to be going fast. And he was spending most of it alone. He began to feel he didn't fit in! Felt excluded from everyone, and Carl just didn't seem to be Carl! He had become an unknown element. Whenever he met people, who Carl had introduced him to, they would always finish up talking about Carl! And the things they said about him never sounded like the Carl he knew. It was as if they were talking about a total stranger!

So that was how life was at 'The Love Shack,' as it started to be known around the scene. From day today Thomas found it curiouser and curiouser! The house -- a mix of bar workers and artists, and hangers-on would from day to day swing from merely strange to utter madness! The next day, it seems Carl had had words with Greg and Kent, and one or two others in the Hot Rats, about the stunt they'd pulled on Maggie. He told them they had gone too far! And they say, it had almost come to blows, when one of the bar staff made a sick joke about Maggie and Carl! Well that was at least typical of the old Carl, thought Thomas; he was always chivalrous! And he hated bullies!
Over the following days Carl showed Thomas around the town, taking him in the bars and introducing him to whoever they met. Sunday after taking coffee on the square, they strolled down to the beach to one of the beach-bars – the place to be – where every Sunday a lot of the off duty bar crews hung out, drinking, playing volleyball, or swimming.
Monday, was Thomas' first day at school, and even though he was really nervous, everything went without a hitch, just as Carl had said it would. He only had to spend a little time looking over the planed lessons to understand what was expected of the students. He had only five hours a day, three days a week. His working day was from twelve until five. The classes were small, a maximum of eight students, mostly in their twenties. The lessons were only forty five minutes long, which enabled him to sit in the garden and smoke a cigarette, and prepare for the next lesson. It only took a couple of weeks for Thomas to really get the heft and hang of it, and he found himself actually enjoying it. His days were from Monday to Wednesday, from two till seven, while Carl worked from ten until three – Tuesday till Thursday, so sometimes they met over coffee in the school garden.
He got the impression Carl was a little aloof from everyone there, which he couldn't understand.
Greg and Kent had, after the incident with Maggie, started referring to Thomas as Norman Bates, or just Norman. Whenever he appeared they would mimic the music from the Psycho shower scene; 'DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!' Thomas took it stiffly, would force a sliced smile; he felt uncomfortable around them. He was becoming an easy tease. Greg was dry and sarcastic, while Kent was more jolly with his banjo-playing-smile. Both it seems were a couple of blades with the ladies. Whenever he came home he never knew what would await him; they seemed to have an unending reportage! A theatre of indiscretion and bad taste! But he also realized they were just young, and weren't really bad guys. And when they were alone each became more agreeable characters.
Amanda, the painter lady, Thomas thought interesting, but they rarely met. She spent a lot of her time in her studio on the ground floor, or trying to sell her work from a stall in the square. She was reserved, and except for Carl – the only one invited into her studio --- she didn't mix much with the people in the house. Thomas would say hello when he saw her on the square, surrounded by her pictures; mostly of the harbour. But Sundays, she was always a part of the scene at the beach-bar. Always wearing a skimpy light blue bikini. Thomas couldn't keep his eyes off her, and she always swam topless.
After a week or so, Carl stopped taking Thomas out. He said he was cutting him free – leaving him to his own devices – that he should start to explore Lagos for himself.
Thomas thought Carl had really changed over the years. He thought about how he used to be – how they used to be, and then how he was now. He thought about that first night on the patio – had Carl put on a show for him -- with all that talk of Quantum Physics and stuff – was it all to impress him? It was obvious Carl was popular here, as he would be anywhere. He always seemed to have people to meet, or somewhere to be. Sometimes he would be gone for a couple of days – or for a long weekend on the West Coast; 'to get away from the tourists,' he'd say. He would always show up just in time for his lessons at the school. Greg would tell Thomas, 'Carl having another dirty weekend teaching beach!' Or 'He's getting jiggy, or throwing shapes on the West Coast with one of his students!'
Thomas was also having trouble with the weather. He was always too hot! The sweat would run into his eyes, and his shirt would stick to him, sometimes it was just so irritating..., and at night it was difficult to sleep...! He would lay on the bed with the window and door open, trying to let some air into the hot little room, which would also let in all the sounds coming from the packed square: the monotonous sound of the panpipes of the Peruvian musicians, or the bars playing loud rock and roll, and the voices of the crowds from the square humming like a hive of giant bees.