Get Into The Light: Chapter Five- I've Got A Face Like a Goat you Know

‘Do you think Pete’s met someone else?’ Lynette asked as we cycled side by side. The trams roared past and I tried to focus on how normal this was - me cycling, not getting off the bike, actually behaving like a real Amsterdam native and not another wobbling tourist with a bright yellow basket on the front that said ‘Rent-A-Bike’. I wasn’t really listening. I screened most of what other people said out unless it had immediate impact on my health or wellbeing. And again I didn’t really understand where Lynette was coming from. From the outside, she seemed to have everything - a cool boyfriend (he was a bit arrogant but you had to compromise when your partner had such amazing cheekbones ). And she was pretty. And thin. And these seemed to be all the ingredients you needed to be happy. And I’d never been a good listener. I found it hard to imagine what went on inside other people’s heads. My own overflowed with the things people said that could have been interpreted as critical, things they'd said that were definitely critical and things I'd said to myself that were out and out abusive.
‘Pete’s obviously really keen,’ I said trying to hold onto the handlebar with one hand and leaning back so I looked more European - Look, I’m actually cycling with one hand. I’m not some English, monkey imbecile. I can smoke and ride a bicycle and I’m not eating chips or barfing into a rubbish bin.
‘He’s so lazy. He can’t be bothered with anything. I sometimes feel like he can’t even be bothered with our relationship,’ Lynette said, getting off her bike and pushing it towards one of the cycle stands outside the coffee shop.
People were sitting outside in the sunshine. They were discussing politics, art and why there were so many annoying English tourists everywhere these days.
‘It must be hard when you’re in your thirties,’ I said swerving to avoid some dog crap, ‘It must be hard to realise that it’s only going to get worse. That you haven’t got anything to look forward to anymore.’
Thirty felt ancient back then. It was sad to see someone who was thirty and still wearing trainers and a baseball cap.
‘He hasn’t been in a band for two years and all he talks about is how he wasn’t given the right chance, how it was everyone elses’s fault and how he would have been successful if he’d just met the right people.’
‘Well he’s right. It’s just like Carl. He didn’t meet the right people either,’ I said.
I locked my bike and squinted into the sunlight. Spring was coming. It was no longer necessary to tie your scarf round your nose to stop icicles forming on the tip. Soon the buds would be pushing their way up towards the energy of the sun; the fields of tulips slowly revealing their daydream colours, the windmills gathering speed next to the dappled, canals and there were lyrics that needed to be written about all of these phenomenon – in fact I needed to take a pen and paper, write things down, really cloak myself in the raw creative talent I’d discovered rather than just flirting with it every now and then.
‘Perhaps he needs something he can feel passionate about’ I said.

Since I’d discovered my new ‘speaking’ talent, I felt like it was easy to doll out advice. I’d forgotten the owl flapping round trying to escape my useless brain. I was one of the success stories. People would lean in when I whispered. And I was already rehearsing my interview style… Yes that’s right I was working as a cleaner when I was discovered. Yes I did see Lenny Kravitz out the window one time but unfortunately he was busy and had to fly. I know, it’s ridiculous that he never heard me speak. I was actually cleaning up man-wee all day until I got in front of that microphone. And I’d never done it before. Of course it felt natural. Completely natural. And since then it just happens. Like right now I want to whisper something to you. I’m actually writing lyrics in my mind as we speak. Do you think ‘creativity’ rhymes with ‘believability’? Is that even a word? There I’m doing it again. I can’t help it. Like I said, it’s natural and I just have to run with it as best I can.
Lynette came into focus - ‘I feel like being in your twenties is bad enough,’ she said.
‘What do mean?’ I said.
Like I said, selective hearing.

The pressure was off during the next recording studio. If you’re only speaking then you don’t have to worry too much. People have strong opinions on singing, what constitutes a great voice but it’s rare that someone really doesn’t like the sound of someone speaking. And they piled on so many effects that my voice sounded completely different anyway. It was like a more aspirational version of myself- one that didn’t pee her pants on the catwalk and knew what to say when it met other celebrities.
‘That’s great,’ Carl said through the headphones, ‘We’re almost finished. Well done!’
This was an amazing dream. And this time I wasn’t going to wake up with the taste of sick in my mouth. I only hoped that my relationship with Carl wouldn’t become imbalanced. I didn’t want to be Stevie Nicks to his Lindsey Buckingham. And I swore never to use my newfound creativity as an outlet for any relationship issues. I’d never write lyrics about how his dry shampoo made me cough in the mornings. And there’d never be any competition between us. It was important that once we became successful, we kept level-headed. Luckily Carl had already been through this once before. And he seemed genuinely excited that I was getting involved. And as long as I didn’t expand my ego too much and start ordering wigs, left right and centre, things would be fine. And I wasn’t even thinking about my anymore. The image of Mum with the pigeons at Victoria station had disappeared like a bubble imploding on the end of a knife.

‘This record is going to be huge,’ Eddie said after they’d finished mixing it.
We were sitting in the studio. All my cleaning tools were growing dusty in the cupboard under the stairs. The mess was building up. There were no cups and there was pee escaping out of all the plant pots.
‘I might invite you upstairs to have a bath- you know to celebrate,’ Eddie continued.
Both Eddie and Carl had headphones on and were focused on the computer screen.
‘It’s okay thanks,’ I said.
‘My bath is huge. I don’t mean this in a pervy way but it’s really relaxing. You could just sit there on your own and take things easy.
‘I know what a bath is,’ I said ‘We have them in England. It’s fine honestly. I don’t need to borrow yours.’
Carl slipped his headphones off. Eddie followed.
‘I’m worried about the hi-hats at the end,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure they’re right.’
‘I don’t think it matters,’ Charles said lighting a cigarette.
‘It needs to sound original. We don’t want to be like every other cheesy, Dutch house act.’
‘There’s no danger of that,’ Eddie said, ‘Does anyone want to have an enormous bath in my gigantic bath tub?’
‘It sounds a bit like Lazer 6. Like that single- what was it called?’ Carl said.
‘Breathe?’ Charles said.
‘No not that one. The one with the girl in a bikini - the one where she’s standing in the strobe lights?’
‘Ecstasy Trance? Was that it?’ Eddie said.
‘No not that one. It’s bugging me. We need to work on the hi-hats. Make it more differentiated. I won’t be able to sleep if we leave it as it is.’
‘I’m going upstairs for a bath. If anyone wants to have one after I’ve finished then you can. I’m only offering this opportunity once,’ Eddie said.
He left the studio and went upstairs. The door slammed. I had never seen Eddie so generous. Usually his apartment on the top floor was out of bounds. Now and then I was allowed half way up the stairs to polish the banister but the door at the top stayed resolutely shut. I’d never seen the enormous bathroom and oval shaped bath. I’d only dreamt about it when I was at the flat standing under the weedy shower with feet frozen solid and shooting pains up the backs of my legs.
‘We’ll work on this a while longer and then we can try and write the next one,’ Carl said, ‘I think if we stop now, we might just lose the momentum.’
‘Surely you can stop for a while?’ I said, ‘You can’t work for twenty eight hours straight. Charles looks like he’s ready to fall off his chair.’
‘We need to keep going. Once you get in the flow like this, then it makes sense to keep going.’
‘What makes you think I can write more lyrics?’ I said.
The inner critic still piped up now and then and tickled me under the arms. It was hard to tell if he was the Gonk - the one who wanted to get tattoos on his face or someone else entirely. Charles span around in his chair, the veins pulsating vigorously through his yellow forehead. He needed fresh air and it looked like his skin was going to drop to the floor and go for a walk on its own. He shook the bottle of pills in my face, the ones that had helped get the ball rolling- he then threw two in the air and caught them in his mouth. I couldn’t help noticing that his tongue was as green as a freshly mown lawn.
Carl was hunched over the desk and didn’t seem to notice- the headphones firmly wedged back on his ears.

* * * *

‘I thought you were famous already? I’m surprised you still want to talk to us. That’s usually what happens. People change so quick,’ Pete said picking up on the first ring.
I ignored him. It was normal for people like Pete to get jealous. It was sad in a way but it was the price of becoming successful.
‘Can I speak to Lynette?’
‘I took some mushrooms this morning,’ she said sounding exactly as she usually did.
‘It’s only Wednesday. Why did you do that?’
‘It’s boring here. Nothing happens. I don’t feel inspired. I’m flat.’
‘I thought you were making our stage clothes. You had some good ideas.’
‘Pete says all my ideas are un-original.’
‘What does he know?’
‘He says that glittery mini dresses have already been done.’
‘Well I’ve never seen them. Lazer 6 always wear lycra. I’ve never seen glittery mini-dresses.’
‘That’s what I said. Wait a minute. I’m taking the phone into the bathroom so he can’t hear.’
‘You need to ignore Pete. He’s got his own agenda.’
‘Maybe. What are you up to?’
‘We finished the first song. Eddie says it’s really good! ’
‘Does he still smell like coconuts?’
‘Yes – I know. What’s that all about?’
‘I don’t know. Ask him.’
‘This is good news for you too you know Lynette.’
‘Whatever…’
‘It is good news. You’re much more creative than I am. You always seem to know what to wear. We’ll be a good team.’
‘I guess so.’
I heard a grumble in the background.
‘You can shut your face,’ she shouted at Pete, ‘He hasn’t even heard the song and already he’s slagging it off.’
‘It’s just dance music. He probably thinks it’s beneath him. It’s not Golden Earring put it that way.’

Lynette called back later the same day. It was time we went out to celebrate. She wasn’t going to let Pete bring her down to his level. Up until then I hadn’t been to any Amsterdam clubs. We usually just stayed in or went over to Lynette’s and drank or smoked a few joints. Ultimately Carl and I were happiest when we were watching Chevy Chase just the two of us and eating mashed potato. At this point I knew nothing about DJ’s – I’d come from an environment where the DJ was someone you knew by their first name and usually played records off your parents stereo. Now that Carl had finished mixing the first single ( ‘I Call Upon,’), he needed to relax. When Carl really wanted to relax, then he went through all his classical CD’s and catalogued them so they were in the right order- from Bach through to Hildegard Von Bingen. This is what I loved about Carl. He was cultured and didn’t think reading the joke on the pack of Monster Munch was big fun.

‘Lynette wants to join the band,’ I said.
‘Lynette? What would she do?’ he said looking up.
‘She can make our clothes. She’s really good with a sewing machine and you’ve seen her dance. She’s much better than me.’
‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’ Carl said popping a CD into the player.
‘It would feel less scary if there was someone on the stage with me. You know another girl.’
On the one hand, it was good to have a female friend who could support me in the band and it was obvious she had different talents. My talent was writing slightly clumsy Dance lyrics under the influence of speed tablets. Lynette was the eye candy. But was I perhaps stabbing myself in the foot? There was a danger I’d end up like Christine McVie in Fleetwood Mac. But then again, she was really talented and had written amazing songs and I wasn’t Stevie Nicks. And Lynette wasn’t either- in the shower when she was singing she sounded like an old man with a bad cold. For now, I wanted my new friend to be involved and there was too much man everywhere anyway. If she didn’t join, we’d end up in army uniforms.

The Milky Way smelt like a toilet. The queue for the loos was ten people deep. People had no power over their bodily functions. Many people seemed to look lost and slightly afraid. But it was still early. The party was themed around ‘Scratch and Sniff’- some walls smelt like peanut butter. Others like cheese. It was the first time I’d taken an ecstasy tablet. Back in London, I’d always steered away from it (not that it was readily on offer at the Capital Radio Junior Best Disco anyway). I felt like this new drug was unpredictable. It certainly made your stomach unpredictable. Unfortunately it wasn’t that unpredictable as everyone headed for the toilet queue in the same moment. I waited and tried to remember what I was waiting for. The smell in the toilets was bad. A man dressed in silver foil walked past.

‘How you feeling?’ Lynette asked jumping in front of me.
Several girls rolled their eyes at her. Or perhaps they were just rolling them anyway. I didn’t feel too nice. Luckily I found a receptacle just in time.
‘Stand up! What are you doing?’
‘Oh dear.’
‘You’ve been sick in my handbag,’ Lynette said.
I stood up and wiped my face with the back of my hand.
‘Only a little bit.’
‘It’s only ten and you’ve already been sick. Great.’
Lynette’s expression gave nothing away- she looked just like she usually did- like a squirrel just about to dash across a motorway. So far I wasn’t cool. I’d rolled forward to page ninety eight of the rock and roll book of bad behaviour clichés. At least I hadn’t choked. I didn’t dare look in the mirror. Something rare was happening to my visage. Where was Carl? It was important that there was someone friendly now. And the man dressed in silver foil looked vaguely creepy.

‘ Drink this,’ Lynette said handing me a plastic bottle, ‘I’ll go and find Carl.’
Carl had changed tonight. There was Loving Carl, then there was Headphone Carl and then there was this Carl who would have to be flagged up as Totally Disinterested In Me Carl. I needed to tell him all about my shoes because they’d been so uncomfortable on the way here, in fact he’d tried to discourage me from wearing them but now it felt like they were cloven to my feet. I had two little hooves. And I liked the way they made my feet all pointy. I didn’t need to go to the toilet anymore. I was free. The people had congregated some place else and they were dancing - their pointy hooves galloping across the dancefloor.

‘You need to calm down,’ Pete said later.
There seemed to be a consensus - Carl had gone and I needed to stop dancing.
‘It’s easier said than done.’
‘I don’t like seeing you like this,’ Pete said.
‘I don’t like seeing you like this either,’ I said taking a glug of water.
‘You’ve got a face like a goat,’ he said.
Except when I turned to face him, he wasn’t there anymore.
Had he really said anything at all?

I sat on the floor with a good view of the dance floor (Carl dancing in a way I’d never seen him move before - his arms conducting an invisible orchestra but still not interested in me, that was a theme this evening). All the rough edges were gone and I no longer cared.
‘I met a really nice guy. His name’s Joost - he’s a photographer,’ Lynette said settling in next to me, ‘And I found tomato in my handbag,’
‘Pete called me a goat,’ I said.
‘That’s weird. You must be mistaken. He’d never say something like that.’
‘I don’t mind. I am a goat. Look at my hooves.’
I pointed my toes and bent my legs so Lynette could see properly.
She shook her head.
‘I’m tired,’ I said, ‘I had a good dance. I enjoyed it more than usual.’
‘I saw you. You were on top of that podium with the silver foil man.’
‘I don’t usually like dancing. I don’t think I’m particularly good at it.’
Lynette scanned the crowd. Carl had gone.
‘Where’s Carl?’ she said.
‘And where’s Pete?’
It was like we’d been tossed inside a snowstorm ornament and none of us could see further than the end of our noses.
‘Listen- Joost- he’s coming back with some drinks in a minute. If Pete turns up, will you introduce him as your friend?’
‘But Pete’s not my friend. He said I had a face like a goat.’
‘I mean Joost,’ she said impatiently, her eyes darting all over the place, ‘Say that Joost is your friend.’
‘But what about Carl?’
‘No one knows where Carl is so it doesn’t matter.’
‘Hi ladies, hows it going?’ a short guy with muscular arms settled onto the floor on the other side of Lynette.
I bent my legs straight again. The hooves were turning back into ordinary feet again.
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ he said.
‘More than usual,’ I said.
His eyes were green. He had a pronounced Cupid’s bow – there was something very appealing about his face. Lynette tossed her hair and smiled.
‘Are you students?’ he said.
‘We’re in a band,’ Lynette said, ‘She speaks in our band,’ she nudged me with her foot.
The hooves had definitely gone now. Things had been good with Carl. It was a shame he wasn’t interested in me anymore.
‘I’m the choreographer and costume designer,’ Lynette said.
‘Apparently I have a face like a goat,’ I said.
Lynette nudged me with her elbow. I took a cigarette from my handbag and lit it.
‘Wow,’ Joost said, ‘I’d like to take some photographs of you guys one day. I’ve taken a few photos of different Dutch bands – usually live photos. It’s something I’d like to develop.’
Lynette was forwards as if she was just about to kiss him.
‘Here’s my number,’ Joost said hurriedly, scribbling it on a piece of paper and handing it to her.
She put it in her pocket. Her handbag was full of tomato. I felt bad about that.
‘I usually arrange everything,’ she said, ‘I guess you could say I’m the organised one,’ I gave her a weird look because this was clearly untrue, but then again sacrifices needed to be made if your friend wanted to pull someone that wasn’t their grumpy boyfriend who went around insulting people and trying to bring them down to their level, ‘I’ll call you in a couple of days and we can set something up.’
It was time for the goat to take off now. It needed to get outside and breath fresh air.
‘Where you going?’ Lynette said.
‘Off.’

‘Have you seen Merlin The Mixmaster?’ someone asked outside.
‘Is he the silver foil man?’
‘Yes.’
‘I danced with him.’
The sky was beginning to brighten- it must have been five. For some reason I started thinking about the parents wrinkled foreheads again. They would be asleep now. They wouldn’t be worried. It was good that I’d taken myself away someplace else.
‘You look like you need a seat,’ someone else said.
‘Not at all. I’m fine.’
‘You’re English?’
‘Has anyone seen a thin man with ladies ankles?’
‘You sound English.’
‘I’ve been here a long time. I can cycle with no hands just like you.’
Some laughter. Then he appeared. Like the moment when ET stands on the steps of his spacecraft, a halo of light coming from behind. It was difficult to tell if he was coming over or going back inside.
‘I was looking for you all night,’ he said putting his hand on my shoulder, ‘I walked round in circles looking for you.’
‘I don’t believe that for one second.’
Carl took the cigarette from my hand and took a drag.
‘I want to go home now if that’s okay.’
‘Of course.’
Lynette ran out of the club. Her face was unearthly pale.
‘You can’t go home now. People are coming back to mine,’ she gestured towards Joost who was standing behind, ‘We’re going to watch movies and drink tea.’
Carl was already locking the bike. We’d only bought one with us tonight. Carl got on and as he pushed down, I sat down on the back. It was a worrying moment especially with so many Dutch natives eyeing up my athletic abilities. For a moment, I felt like I might fall, the steel platform munching up my backside.
‘Hold on,’ Carl said.
‘Come back!’ Lynette called.
I waved.
The sound of the wheels turning and the squeak of the spokes. There were no other cyclists ahead. The wind whipped my hair and I pulled my jacket up so it covered my face. As soon as I closed my eyes I was in another place where colours rained down hard.
‘If you don’t hold on properly then you’re going to fall off,’ Carl said as we reached Leidseplein.
‘Where did Pete go?’ I said.
My voice sounded small in the cold night.
‘Where did he go?’