Part 15 (2/2)

She looked a little pale, but hardly at death's door. Moira said, *There's a bug going around.' She felt Christine's brow. *Normal,' she said. *Christine. Do you remember Dan? This is the man who jumped in front of the bike? Remember the woman who nearly crashed into you?'

Christine nodded.

*What do you say?'

Christine shrugged.

*How about thank you?'

*Thank you.'

*No problem,' I said.

As we were going back down the stairs I said, *I'm a little concerned.'

*She's fine.'

*No,' I said, *about the Cliff Richard posters.'

Moira giggled. It was a nice giggle. *You're not a fan?'

*Sue Barker's made better records. Though she hasn't.' She paused, mid-step. *I'm sorry, you've lost me.'

I cleared my throat. *It's a joke lost in the mists of time.'

*Please explain it to me. Who's Sue Barker?'

*It doesn't matter.' I smiled. *There's nothing worse than explaining a joke. Especially a weak one.'

We continued on through to the kitchen. It was a little after 10 a.m. Ten seven, to be precise. I remember the time because it has historical significance. It was the time that Moira opened the fridge and said, *Do you fancy a beer?'

I was staring through the door. There was a crate of Tennent's, with only three or four missing from the torn plastic wrap. I was mesmerised. It's not that I'm an alcoholic, you understand. It was just the surprise of it. *I thought . . .'

Moira smiled. *Do you think any of them have the b.a.l.l.s to stop me?'

I shook my head.

*As far as I'm aware,' Moira said, removing two cans from the wrapper, *these are the last on the island.'

*I feel very privileged.'

She was just handing one to me when she stopped and a mischievous grin crossed her face. *So who's Sue Barker?' she asked, then tilted the can temptingly towards me, then away again.

*It's no secret,' I said.

*Tell.'

I gave her a nervous smile. *Now she's a television sports presenter. But way back she was a tennis player, reasonably good in a British way, hopeless on the world stage. She was close friends with Cliff Richard. All the tabloids claimed they were having an affair, but they both denied it. Still do a but as far as the greater public is concerned, it's the closest he's ever come to having s.e.x.'

Moira nodded, handed me the can, then sat at the kitchen table and popped her Tennent's. I sat opposite her, and popped mine. *Cheers,' I said.

*Cheers.' She gave me a quizzical little look. *Do you know,' she said, *that Cliff Richard is Christine's father?'

I spluttered some.

She laughed and took a drink. *Thought that would get you going.'

*Cliff . . .'

*Not physically . . .'

*Oh . . .' I nodded, and looked for the emergency exit.

*I mean . . . the night she was born, I went to see his gig in Belfast. He shook my hand. There was something pa.s.sed between us . . . a warmth . . . a feeling . . . something . . . and later that night I gave birth. I've always felt that he was in some way responsible, that a little bit of him was . . .' She trailed off into a shrug. *You know what I mean.' I nodded, although I had no idea. *He's so spiritual . . . I mean, he's been like the stopgap between Jesus and Christine . . .'

*And he's been crucified too,' I contributed, *although only by the critics. But then he does keep coming back . . .' I smiled.

*You're taking the p.i.s.s.'

I shook my head vehemently, then smiled again. *Partly,' I admitted. I looked about the kitchen. It was modern, new; there was an Aga, a dishwasher, a was.h.i.+ng machine, a microwave with grill facility. They were looking after her. She was watching me. I put down the can and produced the tape recorder from my pocket. *Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?' She shook her head.

I don't know why it surprised me, but Moira had her head screwed on pretty tight. I mean, clearly she was deranged, thinking that about her daughter, but that aside, she was pretty well clued in. She knew what she wanted to do, where she was going, and how best to protect herself. *The way I figure it,' she said, *it's all a matter of keeping control. It's like the Spice Girls times a million. The reason they were so big, they had a good manager, they kept control, they had a piece of everything . . .'

*We're talking girl power?'

*After a fas.h.i.+on. Dan, life isn't a charity a or it isn't yet.'

I sat back and smiled. *Now there's a frightening thought a the world being run by Combat Cancer and Dr Barnardo's and everyone having to wear little pink ribbons on f.u.c.king Aids Day. They don't even call it Dr Barnardo's any more because it doesn't fit in with some f.u.c.king marketing . . .'

*Dan . . . you're interviewing me.'

*Of course. Where were we . . .?'

*I . . . don't know.' She laughed. She got me another can, and one for herself. She sat, thought for a moment. *Back in Jesus Christ's day,' she began again, *it took literally decades, maybe hundreds of years for his message to spread . . . but now, y'know, with television and satellite and the Internet, I mean, once we let this out everyone's going to know about it in a matter of, like, minutes. There's going to be pandemonium.'

*I thought the idea was to keep it secret?'

*It is a until she's old enough. Doesn't mean things can't be set up in advance. Deals and things.'

*Deals . . .?'

*I can't just stick her on a soap box and say, ”Here's the Messiah.” She'll be swamped. Or destroyed. She'll need to be protected. Represented. We'll need someone who knows television rights, someone who's promoted rock festivals a y'know, Woodstock or Glas...o...b..ry or something . . . we need to do it big, and we need to do it right.'

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