Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [94]
It was Renshaw who broke the silence first, laughing hysterically as some part of the truth began to dawn on him. The sound galvanized Merrick into action and he made frantic, useless efforts to clear away the articles from his dressing case. When he fumbled for the ring Renshaw took two steps into the room and seized him by the cloak.
“No, no, you look lovely,” he crooned. “Don’t change a thing, darling. You look like the bleedin’ Prince of Wales.”
He seized Merrick by the neck and thrust him at the window, kicking it open. Out in the square his audience waited expectantly.
“My friends—” he declared, “… the Elephant Man.”
He moved quickly as he spoke, stripping off the cloak with one brutal movement and shoving Merrick forward to where the light was better. A noise rose from the audience, gasps of horror from those who were witnessing the spectacle for the first time, cheering and clapping from those who were back for a second or third visit.
The young man with the two whores, who had regained Jess in Renshaw’s temporary absence, stood with an arm round each one.
“Horrible,” he neighed, “I told you it was horrible—just horrible.” As if in confirmation he bestowed a smacking kiss on each one.
“Perhaps,” said Bytes, “speaking softly behind him, “the ladies would like a closer look.”
The young man began to laugh, edging the girls forward, ignoring their half-hearted resistance and sniggers of, “Come on Jack—no don’t—Jack …”
The window ledge was just low enough for them to scramble over, and before they knew it they were in the room. Renshaw had pulled Merrick back to allow them to enter. The Elephant Man was no longer struggling, but stood rigid with terror, sensing that this time a worse ordeal than usual awaited him. Renshaw held him in a tight grip, his head turned toward the girls who were making faces of disgust.
Jack had scrambled in behind them and was surveying the room. His eye fell on the mantelpiece with its multitude of pictures.
“Cor—he’s a real ladies’ man,” he exclaimed. “Come on, give the ladies’ man a kiss.”
The last words were addressed to Beattie, and as he spoke them he seized her wrists and held them behind her, edging her forward.
“Come on,” he said in her ear. “You’ll give him a kiss.”
“Go on, Jack,” she protested, still half-laughing, unwilling to believe him serious.
But a madness had descended on Jack and Renshaw at the same moment. It was as if they were the same man. As Jack pushed Beattie forward Renshaw held Merrick in place for the approaching kiss. His eyes were glittering as he watched Beattie come closer, her face distorting with fear and disgust as she realized what would happen. The crowd outside was leaning in through the window, egging them on, crazed with excitement.
Jack began to bring Beattie’s arms to the front, raising them into the position of an embrace. As she touched Merrick the girl began to scream and struggle, but Jack pressed her forward even harder, while Renshaw and the crowd roared with laughter. Merrick’s wails of fear went unnoticed.
“Here, that’s enough romance …” said Jack. “Now into bed.”
Beattie’s struggles became wilder as her disgust gave her strength. By the time Merrick had been manhandled onto the bed she had managed to escape. Renshaw let her go. His attention was drawn by Jess who had been watching the whole scene from a corner, her eyes wide, her face pale. Her beauty and her petrified terror seemed to bring a fresh charge of life to him. At any other time he would have taken her on the spot. But now a different desire—monstrous, thrilling—surged through him.
“A prince needs a harem,” he said, grabbing her and tightening his arms against her instinctive struggles. His blood seemed to be running twice as fast as he lifted her in his thick arms and jammed her, face downwards, onto Merrick. She screamed and screamed without end, and Renshaw