sweetly. She pleaded, persuaded, whined, nagged, flattered and cajoled him, finally appealing to his vanity by telling him that with his fiddle under his chin, he really was a fine figure of a man.
'Do you really think so?'
Heather nodded. 'Most attractive.'
Dinnie grinned, and Heather knew that she had found a weak spot. One of Dinnie's most profound desires was to be attractive.
'I shouldn't doubt,' she continued, 'that if you learn a few more tunes and go back to that session, the young Irish colleens will be clustering round you in no time. Even last week I noticed a few of them eyeing you up.'
Dinnie picked up his fiddle.
I have excelled myself, thought Heather. I have finally made him love the fiddle. She tripped happily downstairs on her way to the bar. Cal was on the steps, talking to a young woman.
'You will be a great Titania,' he said. 'Come and audition. You'll love it. You get to be the Fairy Queen on a stage strewn with flowers.'
The mention of flowers made Heather think of her estranged friend Morag. They had both been very friendly with flowers in Scotland. She decided to fly across the road and see what she was up to.
Across the road, Morag and Kerry were listening to old Lydia Lunch tapes and drinking beer. Kerry told Morag
about her childhood in Maine and her parents, who had died when she was young, leaving her nothing but a large health-insurance policy, which turned out to be very fortunate.
'And since then I have been poor. I have tried making money from my art here in New York but without much
success. It is very dispiriting.'
Kerry's last artistic effort had been a commission from friends of Cal to draw an album cover for them for a record they were putting out with their own money.
'I drew a beautiful woman, based on Botticelli's Venus — similar to me in fact — lying on a bed of rose petals. It was lovely, but the band said it didn't go with the album's title.'
file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html
Page 26 of 99
Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
6/5/11 2:11 PM
'What was that?'
'Rock Me, Fuck Me, Kill Me. Lousy record.'
This had been Kerry's last commercial enterprise, since when she had been living on virtually no money. Now
Morag was here to help with the shoplifting and rob tills for the rent, things were a little easier.
'Now, Morag, where am I going to find a red, yellow and orange Welsh poppy? Without that flower the alphabet
will not be complete and it must be complete if I am going to beat Cal in the competition.'
At the mention of Cal, Kerry threw down her Indian headband in fury. Not only had he rejected her because of her colostomy bag, he had also sabotaged her flowers.
Magenta arrived at a small park in Houston Street and sat down to consult her copy of Xenophon. A few pigeons meandered round, picking up crumbs. Before she could begin reading she was interrupted by a tramp who knew
her well. He took some time off from washing windscreens at the traffic lights and sauntered over.
'What you got there? Xenophon?' He burst out laughing.
'Xenophon is a pile of crap. All the most recent literary— archeological authorities show that he was not as
important in the expedition as he made out.'
Magenta did not stop to listen to any more. She checked that her new booty, a priceless triple-bloomed flower, was safely tucked in her shopping bag and marched off.
'Wait till Joshua catches up with you!' he shouted after her.
'I see a sewage spill closed three Long Island beaches yesterday. Also Nassau County health authority received a flurry of calls from people who became ill after eating contaminated clams.'
Morag was reading a newspaper after a Kerry attempt at a guitar solo had ended in defeat. She was persistent in her love of the New York Dolls, though, and would never entirely give up.
'And a Brooklyn teenager was stabbed to death in Sunset Park after an argument.'
'Mmmm.'
'And two
'Do you really think so?'
Heather nodded. 'Most attractive.'
Dinnie grinned, and Heather knew that she had found a weak spot. One of Dinnie's most profound desires was to be attractive.
'I shouldn't doubt,' she continued, 'that if you learn a few more tunes and go back to that session, the young Irish colleens will be clustering round you in no time. Even last week I noticed a few of them eyeing you up.'
Dinnie picked up his fiddle.
I have excelled myself, thought Heather. I have finally made him love the fiddle. She tripped happily downstairs on her way to the bar. Cal was on the steps, talking to a young woman.
'You will be a great Titania,' he said. 'Come and audition. You'll love it. You get to be the Fairy Queen on a stage strewn with flowers.'
The mention of flowers made Heather think of her estranged friend Morag. They had both been very friendly with flowers in Scotland. She decided to fly across the road and see what she was up to.
Across the road, Morag and Kerry were listening to old Lydia Lunch tapes and drinking beer. Kerry told Morag
about her childhood in Maine and her parents, who had died when she was young, leaving her nothing but a large health-insurance policy, which turned out to be very fortunate.
'And since then I have been poor. I have tried making money from my art here in New York but without much
success. It is very dispiriting.'
Kerry's last artistic effort had been a commission from friends of Cal to draw an album cover for them for a record they were putting out with their own money.
'I drew a beautiful woman, based on Botticelli's Venus — similar to me in fact — lying on a bed of rose petals. It was lovely, but the band said it didn't go with the album's title.'
file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html
Page 26 of 99
Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
6/5/11 2:11 PM
'What was that?'
'Rock Me, Fuck Me, Kill Me. Lousy record.'
This had been Kerry's last commercial enterprise, since when she had been living on virtually no money. Now
Morag was here to help with the shoplifting and rob tills for the rent, things were a little easier.
'Now, Morag, where am I going to find a red, yellow and orange Welsh poppy? Without that flower the alphabet
will not be complete and it must be complete if I am going to beat Cal in the competition.'
At the mention of Cal, Kerry threw down her Indian headband in fury. Not only had he rejected her because of her colostomy bag, he had also sabotaged her flowers.
Magenta arrived at a small park in Houston Street and sat down to consult her copy of Xenophon. A few pigeons meandered round, picking up crumbs. Before she could begin reading she was interrupted by a tramp who knew
her well. He took some time off from washing windscreens at the traffic lights and sauntered over.
'What you got there? Xenophon?' He burst out laughing.
'Xenophon is a pile of crap. All the most recent literary— archeological authorities show that he was not as
important in the expedition as he made out.'
Magenta did not stop to listen to any more. She checked that her new booty, a priceless triple-bloomed flower, was safely tucked in her shopping bag and marched off.
'Wait till Joshua catches up with you!' he shouted after her.
'I see a sewage spill closed three Long Island beaches yesterday. Also Nassau County health authority received a flurry of calls from people who became ill after eating contaminated clams.'
Morag was reading a newspaper after a Kerry attempt at a guitar solo had ended in defeat. She was persistent in her love of the New York Dolls, though, and would never entirely give up.
'And a Brooklyn teenager was stabbed to death in Sunset Park after an argument.'
'Mmmm.'
'And two
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