Authors: Ben Elton
Life at Inspiration Towers now changed dramatically for
Trafford and Chantorria. Trafford had half feared that their
good fortune over the measles epidemic would provoke
resentment among the other parents in their community
and he was at first extremely relieved to discover that the
opposite was the case. He and Chantorria suddenly
found themselves being admired as people who had been
especially favoured by the Lord.
Confessor Bailey set the tone by mentioning Caitlin
Happymeal's miraculous survival from the pulpit at the
first weekly Confession after the lifting of the quarantine.
'As you all know,' he said, 'the Inspiration Towers estate
recently suffered a terrible reckoning. But in his wisdom
the Lord favoured one baby girl to survive. I want to tell
you that all the lost children live on in her. I say to the
bereaved mummies and daddies of Inspiration Towers,
when you see Caitlin Happymeal, see in her the spark of
what is gone but which you will find again. Who knows
the Love's purpose in preserving Caitlin Happymeal, but it
is my belief that he has preserved her for some higher duty
which is a mystery to us.'
Bailey pointed his finger to where Chantorria and
Trafford sat.
'Nurture her, Chantorria, protect her, Trafford, for she is
truly blessed and you are blessed to be the parents of such
a child. So let us hear no more talk of divorce!' he added.
'The Lord and the Love has saved your baby. He has saved
her for a purpose. He loves your family. He believes in
your family. Go home in peace. Dance like there's nobody
watching, sing like there's nobody listening and tonight
make love like it's the first time.'
Out of the blue, Trafford and Chantorria became
celebrities in their tenement. The gang of which Chantorria
had previously been the most peripheral member now
came knocking on her door. Any person whom Confessor
Bailey saw fit to acknowledge from the pulpit was a big
figure in the community and must be courted. Tinkerbell
visited all the time now, having announced on her video
blog that Chantorria was her new best friend.
'Would you like Lexus to pop down and look at that
shower for you? I know Trafford's not much of a
handyman, bless him, and I'm sure Lexus could get it
working for you.' Tinkerbell always made a big point of
holding and hugging Caitlin Happymeal and saying over
and over again that being so close to Caitlin made up in
some small way for the loss of KitKat.
'I just know that Gucci KitKat and Caitlin Happymeal
would have been the bestest bestest mates,' she said,
wiping away her tears. Then she added, with heavy
emphasis, 'Does Caitlin have a godmother?'
'Only Barbieheart,' Chantorria admitted with some
embarrassment. Barbieheart was godmother to all the
children in the tenement so having her was nothing
special. Chantorria could probably have assembled a
better show if she had tried; most women were happy to
take on the role of godmother because apart from getting
drunk at the christening the post carried no special duties
or responsibilities. When Caitlin was born, however,
Chantorria had not been brave enough to ask anyone for
fear of rejection. Even now she could not quite summon
up the courage to ask directly.
'I mean, perhaps you . . . would you . . . ?' she stuttered.
'Oh my God!' Tinkerbell shrieked. 'Oh – my – God, I'd
be honoured! We'll have to have her christened!'
'Well, she's been christened of course . . .'
'We'll do it again! But properly this time! A really big
party! We'll get all the girls and just fucking go for it.'
Tinkerbell was as good as her word and a large
celebration was organized in which all the women in the
tenement queued up to offer their services as godmothers
and to hug the last surviving baby in their building, no
doubt in the hope that somehow Caitlin's luck or divine
favour would rub off on them and that their future babies
might also be protected by the Love.
Chantorria did her best not to appear too exultant at her
new status – after all, it was only weeks since the plague
had ended and the building was still in mourning – but
with so many visits and gifts of cake and chocolate it was
difficult for her to hide her delight. Barbieheart took to
organizing her social diary, acting as an indulgent mother
to a wild effervescent daughter.
'You've got Velvet Secret for coffee at eleven but you
must get rid of her by twelve because Tinks and Flaming
Ruby are taking you to lunch at McDonald's, no less, so
Caitlin can have her first McFlurry.'
Chantorria's days passed in a whirlwind of visits. There
was always chocolate and cake and usually plenty of fizzy
wine, and always the golden daughter must be hugged for
the Lord and the Love had selected her to survive.
All this suited Trafford very well. Chantorria had
previously been rather a needy person, clinging on to
Trafford and demanding his attention. Now she had so
much to occupy her time that Trafford was able to find
many hours a day in which he could sit and read. It was of
course remarked upon that he seemed to have developed
an extraordinary interest in self-improvement, but this was
seen as a positive thing and evidence of the special plans
that God had for him and his family.
'He's getting himself ready,' Barbieheart remarked,
'preparing himself for whatever task the Love has waiting
for him.'
As Trafford emerged from the office lifts on the morning
of his next Fizzy Coff, his mind as usual dwelling on
Sandra Dee, he saw that he was not the only person to
be focused on her that day. Princess Lovebud was
standing before her desk. The simmering dislike
which the office bully felt for Sandra Dee was always in
danger of coming to a head and now it looked as if
Princess Lovebud had found an excuse to engineer a
major confrontation.
'Sandra Dee,' Princess Lovebud said, standing
uncomfortably close to her proposed victim, 'I notice
that you have stopped paying into the cake and
doughnuts fund.'
'Yes, that's right,' Sandra Dee replied without looking up
from her computer.
'Oi! I'm talking to you,' Princess Lovebud barked.
'Yes, I know. And I've replied. We are at work. We're paid
to process information, not to discuss doughnuts.'
'Are you disrespecting me?'
'I am trying to get on with my work.'
Trafford glanced around the office. As usual it was
divided between those in Princess Lovebud's camp who
were all ears, relishing the mayhem to come, and those
who kept their heads down, trying hard not to draw focus,
hating the scene but grateful that it was not they who were
the objects of the departmental bully's disapproval.
'Why ain't you paying into the cake and doughnut jar?'
'Because I don't eat any of the cake and doughnuts. I
never have done and yet for quite a long time, out of
politeness, I still put money in. I've paid for lots of
the cake and doughnuts you've eaten but now I've decided
to stop.'
'Don't you want to muck in? Don't you want to be a part
of the team?'
'I don't think that forcing everybody to pay for the
things that you and your mates want to eat means that
we're a team, Princess Lovebud.'
Trafford was astonished. Nobody had ever challenged
Princess Lovebud's authority before. It was utterly unprecedented
and for a moment the team loudmouth was
at a loss, clearly not knowing what to say next. Briefly there
was silence, during which Sandra Dee continued to tap
away at her computer. Then Princess Lovebud rallied.
'You think you're better than me, don't you?' she
demanded.
'No, I don't.'
'Yes, you do. You think you're better than me.'
'Actually, I don't think about you at all.'
'Are you a racist?'
Trafford was surprised. This was a very serious allegation
and took the confrontation to a whole different level.
'Of course not.'
'Because, as you know, I am a person of mixed race.'
'That is entirely irrelevant to this discussion, which is
about a cake and doughnut fund that you set up and to
which I do not wish to contribute.'
'Are you calling my race irrelevant?'
'Irrelevant in this case.'
'Which is the case we happen to be discussing!'
Princess Lovebud said triumphantly, as if she had scored
a major point.
Trafford knew it was useless for Sandra Dee to attempt
to reason with Princess Lovebud. The quarrel had taken on
a life of its own and anything that Sandra Dee said would
be wilfully misinterpreted by Princess Lovebud in support
of her own argument.
'Have you got a problem with the fact that I'm a quarter
Irish, a quarter Croatian, part Cornish and one-sixteenth
Afro-Caribbean British?' Princess Lovebud continued.
'Because I'm proud of who I am.'
'Actually, I don't care what you are.'
There was an audible gasp from the bully mob at this.
Princess Lovebud had listed her antecedents and the only
socially acceptable response to that was to gush with
ecstasy and exclaim at full volume how much one loved all
the racial and national groups that had been mentioned.
Sandra Dee should have assured Princess Lovebud that she
loved Irish people, she loved Croatian people, she loved
the Cornish and she loved Afro-Caribbean British people.
Her indifference to Princess Lovebud's pride in her racial
mix was truly shocking.
'That is totally and utterly RACIST!' Princess Lovebud
screamed. 'I can't believe you said that! I cannot BELIEVE
you said that.'
'Said what?'
'You said you didn't care about Irish and Croatian,
Cornish and Afro-Caribbean British people. You did! You
said it! You need counselling, you need re-educating!
You need to start growing, woman, because you are out
of order.'
'I said I didn't care about you.'
'Yes, well, I am all them things and if you don't care
about something then you don't have any respect for it
and that is being disrespectful and disrespecting someone
because of their race is racism and I am going to blog you
up! I am going to complain to the tribunal.'
This was a very heavy threat indeed. Ostensibly
workplace tribunals existed to provide 'arbitration'
and 'reconciliation' services to employees who felt
uncomfortable or threatened by the behaviour of a
colleague. In reality they were kangaroo courts transparently
manipulated by office bullies to settle scores and secure
advancement, mini show trials in which Temple favourites
could destroy anybody they wished to, simply by accusing
them of socially unacceptable thinking. Any person at any
time could find themselves accused suddenly of racism or
sexism and be forced to appear before these tribunals,
usually without understanding what it was they were
supposed to have done. The charges were impossible to
deny because over the years the words had come to be so
widely and loosely interpreted as to be almost meaningless.
In fact blatant racial discrimination and sexual harassment
continued unchallenged, entirely separately to these trials,
and often perpetrated by the very people who were
claiming to be their victims.
Trafford decided that he must intervene. If Princess
Lovebud were to take her complaint to a tribunal there was
every chance that she would destroy Sandra Dee. She
could with ease assemble many witnesses to support her
grievance and if Sandra Dee was deemed to have made a
racist remark the minimum punishment would be a
course of re-education. She might easily lose her job.
'Princess Lovebud,' said Trafford, rising to his feet, 'I
totally respect you big time and sincerely applaud the
pride you take in who you are and where you came
from. As a strong woman of Irish, Croatian, Cornish and
Afro-Caribbean British heritage you are totally beautiful.
However, I suggest that no way was Sandra Dee being
racist and that you are well out of order, missus, so deal
with it.'
Princess Lovebud swung round on Trafford in full attack
mode. But then, just as the verbal assault was about to
begin, she paused. Even a few weeks earlier she would
have destroyed him. She was queen bee in their workspace
and nobody told her she was out of order or to deal with
it. She would have unleashed an expletive-ridden stream of
invective that would have resulted in Trafford's total
ostracism, and he might even have found himself being
bundled into some dark stationery cupboard and physically
attacked. However, things were different now. Trafford was
no longer an irritating nonentity, a saddo and a weirdo
who could, if the mob chose, be bullied at will. He was a
Temple favourite. He had been mentioned from the pulpit
by his Confessor and singled out for the Lord and the
Love's special purpose. His child had survived a holy
plague when all others in his building had succumbed. If
Princess Lovebud were to disrespect him she would be
disrespecting the will of the Temple, the will of the Lord
even, and in that moment all her authority would
evaporate. Suddenly it was she who would be the victim,
naked and defenceless against all those who had previously
feared her. And there were many.
'Yeah, well . . . all right,' Princess Lovebud said. 'If she
wasn't being racist then that's fine, isn't it? I was only
saying about the cake fund.'
'It is a voluntary fund though, isn't it?' Trafford asked.
'Of course it is. There ain't no rule, is there?'
'Then surely those who want to be a part of it should
pay in and eat the things you buy and those who don't
should simply opt out.'
'They can if they want.'
'Then I think I will,' Trafford said, 'if that's all right
with you.'
'Whatever,' Princess Lovebud said and, taking up her
money tin, she returned with it to the social hub where
with exaggerated indifference she ate a doughnut. Nobody
else took up the opportunity to withdraw from the fund;
the power in the office might have shifted somewhat, but
only for Trafford. For most people the idea of confronting
Princess Lovebud remained unthinkable.
Slowly the office returned to normal. Trafford looked
towards Sandra Dee many times during that day to see if
he could catch her eye but she never once looked in his
direction. He saw Cassius smile at him, though, and once
more Trafford was struck by the thought that there were
only three real, fully rounded human beings in the office.
Himself, Cassius and Sandra Dee. There must be others, of
course; he knew that. Kahlua he imagined was real and
there were one or two more whom he suspected of hiding
elements of individuality, but he could not be sure. In
Trafford's mind, evidence of humanity was the keeping of
secrets and he had no knowledge of theirs.
It was then that he had a huge and exciting thought. He
smiled, remembering how Barbieheart had suggested that
the Love had a task waiting for him. All of a sudden
Trafford knew what that task was.