Spank: The Improbable Adventures of George Aloysius Brown (37 page)

George glanced up at Catherine who was studiously ignoring him.
"
They don't teach you this sort of thing in ecclesiastical college, you know.
"
He skipped a few paragraphs.

By God, the woman holds nothing back.
"
Take your punishment like a man,
"
says she,
"
and you may find relief on the final stroke.
"

The sensation was palpable, the sting exquisite. For several seconds I wait. Then swish and swish again, I am dizzy with excitement. There is a pause, then I feel her hand stroking my lance as the cane falls for the last time and I spasm in ecstasy.

"
Actually, it's not bad,
"
George concedes, handing back the folios, which Catherine tucked away in her briefcase.

"
Actually, it's rubbish,
"
she said.
"
It's a one trick pony. Read one chapter and you've read them all – they all follow similar themes. I suppose it's a difficult balance to write this sort of stuff with enough variety to make it interesting to a broader audience while at the same time satisfying the hard-core reader who really only wants on thing. You did it. I loved your book. I tell you what George, give me a few weeks to get settled in the new job and I bet I can sell it to Pandora.
"

George cleaned his plate with the last slice of bread and picked up his napkin to wipe his lips.

"
Too late, my dear, the horse has left the stable,
"
he said triumphantly.
"
I signed a contract this morning.
"

"
You didn't!
"

"
I did. And I have got the advance in my pocket.
"
George reached into his jacket and produced it with a flourish. Catherine collapsed back in her chair and put her hands to the side of her face.

"
How much, George?
"
she said.

"
Ten thousand pounds
, plus seven percent of gross sales.
"

"
Te
n
thousand?
"
She said it so loudly, half the restaurant turned in their direction.
"
That's fantastic. I'm so pleased for you.
"

She got out of her chair and gave him a hug.
"
Who's the lucky publisher?
"

George gave her his lopsided grin.
"
That's the weird part,
"
he said.
"
It's a Japanese mobile phone company.
"

Over coffee, Catherine listened with increasing amusement to his account of the meeting with Mr. Yamomoto.

It was her turn to give his leg a tug.

"
Ah so, Doctor Fry reads loyal frycatcher on melly dance,
"
she parodied, her fingers zigging and zagging over the condiments.

George laughed.
"
Actually it wasn't that way at all. His English is better than mine.
"

"
And they actually publish novels direct to people's mobiles?
"

"
Apparently, they do. Japanese teens use their phones so much that they are called
oyayubizoku
, 'the thumb tribe.' According to what I read on the internet,
"
an entire generation has grown up using cell phones to communicate, shop, watch television and movies, read books and create content in ways that we in the West are only just beginning to explore. Apparently, fans of cell-phone fiction follow their favorite authors as if they were friends.
"

"
Better watch out, George. You might find yourself mobbed by Japanese office ladies all wanting their panchira spanked.
"
She giggled.

"
Yes, the price of literary fame, I suppose,
"
said George, stoically.
"
One must endure.
"

"
Seriously, though, we have done rather well, haven't we?
"
Catherine said.
"
I wonder what Wanda would say. I bet your mates in the pub aren't laughing at you now. By the way, this is for you.
"

She pushed an envelope across the table. In it was a cheque for
£
1
0
,000, payable to George Aloysius Brown, half the prize money awarded to a first-time novelist from their creative writing class.

"
Catherine, no, please. I won't take it. This is your money. You won it fair and square.
"

"
But we had a deal, remember? It's too late to back out now.
"
George knew that nothing he could say would make her take the money back.

"
Tell you what
"
he said,
"
I've been giving this some thought. Let's form a writers' support group – you and me – call it JB Enterprizes – whatever. We will offer financial assistance to first-time authors, sponsor new talent, give something back to the literary community. If any of our writers makes it big we'll take a share of the profit. What do you think?
"

"
I think it's a great idea. We'll be patrons of the arts like your friend Catherine de Medici, but I don't exactly have the money right now to throw at other writers.
"

George put his hand on the envelope she had given him.

"
Here's your share, right here,
"
he said.
"
I'll match it with twenty-five grand of Mr Yamomoto's money. We can work out the details later. No arguments. I'll get my accountant to draw up the papers.
"

Catherine laughed.
"
You have an
accountant
?
"

"
No, but I'll have to find one if I'm going to be a household name in
Japan
.
"

"
And in the meantime?
"

"
I don't know, let's have some fun. For starters, we'll throw one hell of a party.
"

I see again a shining beach

Memories like polished pebbles

Hear again the brittle laugher of children

Dancing to the puppeteer
'
s strings
On
Brighton
Beach
by CM Jones
When word got around in Pimlico and environs that there was going to be a book launch party for not one but two publications and that the invitation list included three dominatrix, the vice-president casting of an East End adult movie studio, a Brixton librarian who entertains assertive older gentlemen, the lady treasurer of the Cambridge Constituency Conservative Party,
the head of western Europe for TrashTalk Mobile, the entire board of Pandora Books, the mayor and councilors of Putney& District, senior partners of Maddox, Matrix, Addison Camberwell, the celebrated English poet Wanda Gravely, and a maker of high-end rattan canes together with her franchise partner from Los Angeles, it suddenly became the hottest ticket in town.

Catherine and George found they had a host of new friends and others they hadn
'
t heard from for a while. Several Chelsea Pensioners wrote to say they didn
'
t get out much and would love to meet the new neighbors, the Lambeth Girls Choir offered to entertain, Victoria Barnes, proprietor of Everything Spanking New, offered as a door prize two tickets to an upcoming over-50s fetish event in Reading, and Dr. Steed Blondin phoned Catherine to see if he and his mates from Guy
'
s Hospital could drop by.

"
You bastard, you didn
'
t tell me you were coming to
London
,
"
she admonished him.

"
Didn
'
t know myself until a week ago. I
'
m here on a research exchange program for six months.
"
He paused.
"
It would be great to see you.
"

Catherine flushed, memories of a hot afternoon in Surry Hills.

"
I didn
'
t think I would see you again.
"

"
I don
'
t think you saw me the first time.
"

Catherine laughed. She loved the easy Aussie banter.

"
You still got those flip flops with cleats on?
"

"
Better than that. I bought crampons.
"

"
Sorry, they
'
re not legal in Pimlico?
"

"
Then you
'
ll have to come out to my place?
"

"
And where
'
s that?
"

"
Earls Court
.
"

Catherine laughed.
"
I might have known. Do you want to meet for a drink? There
'
s a pub called the Arab Boy….
"

"
I know it, it
'
s just down the road from where I live.
"

"
I
'
ll meet you there at six.
"

"
Don
'
t be late
"
.

George had of course, as a matter of courtesy, invited fellow members of the Pimlico Literary Appreciation Society and they agreed to put his invitation on the agenda for discussion at the next meeting. The events coordinator Mrs. Prenderghast, who is slightly hard of hearing, phoned him to discuss it, but didn
'
t seem quite clear on the concept.

"
Fly
On
The
Wall,
is that what you're calling it? Weird sort of title, what? Sounds entomological. What's it about?
"

"
Spanking,
"
George replied, emphatically. He didn't have a lot of patience with Mrs. Prenderghast.

"
What was that, dear? Spelunking? That's climbing about in caves and things, isn't it? Good show. I love a good adventure story.
"

Dolly Bloom, who offered to provide floral arrangements for the party, had read the first draft of his manuscript and had made several useful suggestions. He had asked her to join his editorial advisory committee, but she had politely declined.

"
Sounds like you're in good hands with those young ladies, naughty boy.
"
She paused. George pictured her blushing prettily, fanning herself with a floral hankie.

"
By the way, George,
"
she added.
"
Just in case you were wondering, my new furniture has arrived. Solid as a rock, if you would care to pop round for tea.
"

Pandora Books and TrashTalk Mobile, who were jointly funding the launch party, chose an upmarket wine bar in
Sloane Square
and did not stint on the cost. There was an open bar between seven and midnight and a lavish buffet table decorated with a magnificent life-sized ice sculpture of Botticelli's Venus emerging from the sea. The shell beneath her feet was piled high with shucked oysters, mussels on the half shell, cherrystone clams imported from New England and chunks of
Nova Scotia
lobster.

Catherine and George were the first to arrive, nursing their drinks, standing together at the buffet, admiring the opulence of it all and wondering how they came to deserve it.

"
Wow, that's some serious ice,
"
said a voice in Catherine's ear. She spun around and screamed in disbelief.

"
Jen! My God! I don't believe it. You told me you couldn't make it.
"

She hugged her friend, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. Then she hugged Jen's mum.

"
Ruth, lovely to see you, too. Did you do this, convince your errant daughter I couldn't get through this evening without her?
"