Bill & Astrid
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"I'll tell you what's wrong! It's something in the bathroom. Something
crawling.
A
spider."
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Bill Wyman stood squarely in front of me, looking me straight in the
eye. He seemed rooted to a terrain he was willing to defend at all
costs. He was mad. "You're the owner of this place, right?"
"Yes, Bill," I said. "I am."
"Well, there's something terribly wrong down there in the 'Cottage', as
you call it, and I'm asking you to do something about it, right away."
"Bill," I said, "what is it? What's wrong?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong! It's something in the bathroom. Something
crawling. A spider."
"There's a spider in the bathroom?"
"A spider. Came right down on Astrid from the ceiling, just as she was
using the toilet. She's very upset, and so am I, I might add."
"If there's a spider in the bathroom, then I'm upset, too, Bill. But
don't worry, we'll get after it right away. How's everything else down
there?"
"T.V. set's a bit dodgy. Can't get all the stations. Pity, too, since
I'm here to do some taping off the air."
"No problem, Bill. We'll have that attended to, as well. Besides that,
how are things?"
"Well, otherwise O.K., I guess. One thing I'm going to need is a good
cassette deck down there. I've some interviews of my own to give, and
we'll want to record on cassettes."
"No problem, Bill. We'll do that, too. In the meanwhile, let me get the
anti-spider division in motion."
"That would be very helpful. Very helpful indeed. I would be further
obliged if you'd give your assurances to Astrid, as well. She's on her
way over here now." Bill did a crisp right-face, and disappeared out
the door. Within seconds, lovely Astrid was standing in his place,
looking fairly put out herself.
"Astrid," I said. "Did Bill tell you we were going to paint your
bathroom today?"
"Oh, Geel!"
Astrid called me "Geel" — pronounced "eel" with a hard
"g" out front
— not Gil. Maybe that's the way "Gil" translates into Swedish. I don't
know.
"Oh, Geel," she said. "What about the spider?"
"Won't paint him, Astrid. We'll take him out first. Sorry about that,
really."
"Geel... " she began again.
"Astrid," I interrupted. "Look at me. You don't recognize me, do
you?
We've met before, you know."
Astrid stopped in midstream, forgot about the spider, and stood looking
at me. Her right-hand index finger was wagging at me, slowly, and she
attempted to solve this little puzzle.
"Astrid, you won't believe this, but it was twelve years ago — in
London — at Olympic Studios. In the control room. They were recording
'Sweet Virginia' and I was there as a friend of Jimmy Miller's."
"Jimm-eee. Oh, Jimm-ee," Astrid sang.
"A friend of Jimmy's, I was. We hung out in the control room for half
the night, you and me. I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had
ever seen. Ever
seen,
mind you, Astrid. I remember it as though
it were yesterday."
Astrid was to claim starting that very evening that she remembered me,
too, but I know she didn't. It was a great beginning, though, for the
two of us. She moved a step or two closer to me, and the mood changed.
"Geel," she said. "I knew there was something, how to say, special
about you. Now I know, we're old
friends!
Oh, Geel, it's so good
to have a
friend
here. I just didn't know what I was going to
do
for a while." Astrid's right hand dabbed at an eye with a
handkerchief, and she moved a step closer still.
"It's them!" she said. "Them. I just don't know what I'm going
to do
when
they
get here."
"They? Who's 'they'?"
"You know, Keith and Woody. Why, do you know where Keith's bedroom is?
Well!"
"Down in the barn, right? The Gold Room?"
The Gold Room was a favorite of the stars. We could have named it after
Cat Stevens, Arlo Guthrie, James Coburn, John Belushi, or a host of
others. But we called it the "Gold Room" instead. It's right next to
the sauna, and the Jacuzzi.
"Right next to
us,"
Astrid cried. "His bedroom's just across the
wall
from us." Astrid seemed ready to burst into tears.
"Look at me," she said. "I'm exhausted already — just the thought of
it — and he's not even
here
yet. The noise — hour after hour.
Those cassettes of his. Well, there'll be no sleep for me, I can see
that right now. Geel, you must simply
do
something. I know you
can."
Astrid now had her hand in my arm, and she was tugging at me ever so
slightly, moist eyes looking up at me, just about ready to cry real
tears. "Something, Geel! Something."
"Astrid, listen to me. I've got an idea."
Astrid perked up almost immediately.
"You need a place for all the clothes you've bought, right?"
"I can't even unpack them, Geel. There's no place to put them. I just
can't go around in, how you say,
rags,
can I?"
"Listen to me, Astrid, we'll go out and buy a bedroom set — a real
nice antique one — and we'll put the chest over there, against the
wall to Keith's room. That'll quiet things down and give you a place
for your clothes at the same time."
"Do you think, Geel... ?"
"I'm sure it will work, Astrid. And if it doesn't, we'll do something
else. I promise."
"Promise, Geel?"
"Astrid, we're old friends, right?"
With that remark, this particular scene was concluded. The next one
standing out in my memory was Astrid, in cut-offs and a kerchief around
her head, directing traffic in the doorway to the Cottage. A paint
ladder and empty paint cans were on their way out the door, carried by
two paint-spattered youths from North Brookfield. A large moving van
was parked just outside the Cottage, on the gravel drive, and the rear
gate was open. Half the antique bedroom set had already been lowered to
the ground. The other half was still in the truck, being shuffled about
by two cursing and temporarily stymied moving men. A large Sony TV set
was waiting in the arms of two burly technicians, who were themselves
waiting for the boys with the paint ladder to get out of the way. A
representative from
Preview
— the local pay TV concession —
was busy stringing UHF cable to a point just outside the stained glass
window. Jesse had just hooked up a cassette deck to the Cottage hi-fi.
Two female attendants were busying about inside the Cottage, exchanging
the existing curtains for those of another color — Astrid's favorite color.
The spider had been removed. Astrid was in her glory.
"Geel!" She waved to me from across the driveway. Ebullient. Happy.
Pretty beyond words.
"Geel! Look!"
She waved her arms about in wide circles, in an effort to encompass,
enclose, and demonstrate the activity which raged around her.
I smiled, waved back, and counted this incident over.
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