A change of face - Poem

I was five pounds short of the two hundred I needed by Thursday, and I had only two days to make it up.

"Why do you need two hundred pounds?" asked Ingrid, my room-mate.

"Let's say I promised myself that amount."

"That explains everything," she said. "I once promised myself a holiday in Majorca, but things don't always work out."

"In your case things never work out."

"I think you're crazy," said Ingrid. "What good is money to you anyway.?" Her fatuity was maddening, but I kept calm.

"Lend me a fiver. You won't regret it."

Her tinny laugh pierced my ear. "What me--with scarcely a bean!"

"Get out," I said, "before I cripple you."

She folded down her tartan skirt and walked out the door with a hoity-toity air, ludicrous, I thought, in a down-and-out whore. I waited a good five minutes to make sure she was gone before I fetched the briefcase from under my bed. I never failed to be impressed by the look of it. Good quality leather was more in my line than the trash Ingrid flaunted. The briefcase had originally belonged to one of her clients. I remembered his piggish stamp of respectability. Mind you that was ten years before when Ingrid was in better condition. He had left it by the side of the bed, complete with lock and key and containing two stale sandwiches, while Ingrid slept off her labours. I explained later I had found it in a dustbin. Once again I counted the money acquired in pounds and pence but it still totalled only one hundred and ninety-five.

In Joe's Eats Cafe I leaned over the counter. "Joe," I asked, "how's about lending me a couple of quid--five to be exact. Until the Giro comes on Saturday."

Joe kept his eyes on the trickle of heavy tea he was pouring. He breathed hard. "What for?"

"Oh I don't know. Who needs money."

"It don't pay to lend money. I should know."

"Of course, never a borrower or a lender be," I said, fishing for ten pence.

"I've been done before. No reflection on you."

I looked round, then leaned over and whispered. "You can have a free shot and I'll still owe you the fiver."

He recoiled then hooted with laughter. "You must be joking--not even with a bag over your head."

I shrugged and put on what passed for a smile. "It's your loss.

I know some new tricks."

Joe patted my shoulder. "I know you mean well, Lolly, but you're not my taste--nothing personal."

We brooded together for a bit. Finally Joe said, "Ingrid might lend it to you."

"Not her."

"Oh well ..." He turned to pour water into the pot.

"I've got one hundred and ninety-five pounds," I threw at him. His back stiffened.

"What's the problem then?"

I knew I was wasting my time but I explained. "I need two hundred by Thursday. It would alter my whole life."

He chortled. "You paying for a face lift or something?"

"Better than that."

He shook his head. "Sorry kid, you seem"

I took my cup of tea over to the table without listening. Ten minutes later I was strolling along a quiet part of the city occupied mainly by decaying mansions.

"I'm short of a fiver," I explained to the tall man in the black suit.

His eyes glowed with regret. "I'm sorry. Two hundred is the price. I can't accept less."

"Will it be too late after Thursday?"

"I'm afraid so." He could not have been more sympathetic.

"What should I do--steal?"

"I can give you no advice."

He closed the door gently in my face and left me staring at the peeling paint. A cat leapt on to the step and wound itself round my legs. I picked it up and forced it to look at my face. "Stupid animal," I said as it purred its pleasure. I threw it away from me and returned home.

I walked into the bedroom and grabbed Ingrid by her sparse hair as she lay splayed over Jimmy Font, identifiable by his dirty boots.

"Out," I shouted.

She pulled on her grey vest screaming, "I'll kill you."

Jimmy thrashed about like a tortoise on its back clutching his privates as if they were gold.

I towered above him. "Hurry!" He gained his feet, made the sign of the cross, grabbed his trousers and ran.

"May you burn in hell," moaned Ingrid, rubbing a bald patch on her head.

I tossed over a handful of hair. "Before you go, take that filth with you."

"Where can I go?" she sobbed.

"The gutter, the river, the madhouse. Take your choice."

She pulled on her dress. "I don't feel well." I didn't answer. "Anyway," she added, "if you had let Jimmy stay I might have earned a fiver to lend you."

I was not swayed by her logic. A drink from Jimmy's bottle would have been the price. I walked out of the room to escape from her staleness.

At one time they had told me in the hospital, plastic surgery could eventually work wonders. I did not like the word `eventually.' Civilly I had requested that they terminate my breath, but they merely pointed out how lucky I was to be given the opportunity. Suspecting they would only transform me into a different kind of monster I had left them studying diagrams. That happened a long time ago, but I still had my dreams of strolling along an avenue of trees holding up a perfect profile to the sun.