Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [13]
‘Hello Ray,’ said Kitty, in a cool, noncommittal voice.
‘What’s a couple of hip chicks like you. . . ’ Ray paused, evidently losing his thread, his large face nodding like some kind of novelty candy dispenser, before he suddenly focused on Ace. He grinned at her and stared at her, a long appraising gaze that moved from her forehead to her toes and back up again.
This would have been offensive enough if he had merely been assessing her sexual attributes, but somehow the knowledge that he was actually surveying her bizarre garb made it even worse. ‘Hey, Calamity Jane,’ he said, leering.
‘I thought I was Annie Oakley,’ said Ace.
‘Calamity Oakley, Annie Jane,’ muttered Ray. ‘That’s quite some get-up.’
23
‘Haven’t you had enough to drink?’ suggested Kitty in a sweet, reasonable voice.
‘Hell man, no, no, no,’ said Ray firmly, shaking his head again.
‘Well then, hadn’t you better go and have another martini?’ said Kitty. Ace admired her adaptability. ‘The pitcher’s over there. Help yourself.’
But Ray just ignored her and kept grinning at Ace. ‘Look at you. You’re headed for the last round-up. Your spurs they jingle jangle jingle. You’ve got to throw a lassoo. You got to bust a bronco. You’re a lonesome cowpoke. You got to get along little doggie, get along. You, you, you. . . ’
‘Run out of cowboy clichés?’ said Kitty. ‘Maybe another little martini will help.’
Ray didn’t seem to hear her. The look of alcoholic puzzlement that had clouded his face suddenly abated. He stabbed a chubby finger at Ace, stopping just short of her breasts, hovering there in drunken menace. ‘It’s time you were back in the saddle!’ he chortled. Ace and Kitty exchanged a glance. The crude innuendo in the man’s remark was abundantly clear.
Kitty Oppenheimer slapped his hand away from Ace’s breasts and opened her mouth to give vent to what Ace fully expected to be blistering invective, and which Ace was rather looking forward to hearing.
Just then, though, the record player, which had fallen mercifully silent, began to blare again. Ace winced at the loud, loathsome pomposity of the classical music that poured from it. There was a simultaneous sound of wordless loathing from Ray, and Ace looked at him, surprised to see a look of disgust on his face that was identical to her own. ‘What is that crap,’ he moaned.
‘Wagner,’ said Kitty in a clipped, discursive tone. ‘Tristan and Isolde. The Liebestod.’
‘I know what it is, man,’ said Ray, his face corrugated with suffering. ‘But I mean, why are they playing it?’ He glared at a tall, thin stick insect of a man who stood over the record player, nodding with satisfaction as the music keened and thrilled. A young man with a huge, domed forehead, tiny ears and a risible little lick of hair adorning his large curve of skull. The young man’s eyebrows echoed the curve of the huge round spectacles that gave him a bug-eyed look. His Cupid’s bow mouth was bracketed by the scattered trace of scarring from adolescent acne.
‘It’s Fuchs,’ said Kitty Oppenheimer, half to Ace and half to Ray.
‘Of course it’s ficking fickle fricking Fuchs, baby,’ said Ray. ‘Making with the Germanic jive again. It’s enough to make you puke, man. Puking Fuchs.’
‘I agree,’ said Major Butcher. He stepped over and joined them, smiling. Ace wondered what the hell the man was doing, suddenly being so friendly. But Butcher seemed sincere as he joined Ray in staring with contempt at Fuchs and the record player. ‘That music ought to be banned.’
24
‘That’s right,’ crooned Ray. ‘Banned, baby, banned.’
‘It shouldn’t be played in here of all places. It’s the music of the master race.
It’s Hitler’s favourite composer.’
‘Actually,’ said a familiar voice, ‘Hitler’s favourite composer was Franz Lehár.’
Ace looked up to see that the Doctor had also joined them. He smiled and tipped his hat at Kitty before turning to address Butcher again. ‘Lehár is a composer of light operettas. Musical meringues, so to speak. Much more to the Führer’s taste than the highly spiced meats of Wagner. I believe Hitler’s absolute favourite among Leh