Hideous Kinky Page #3

- I have a house nearby.

- You must come and visit.

- Oh, Mum, could we?

- Please, Mum.

- Oh, we'll see.

We have to go now.

Here is my card. I have many spare rooms.

- Look at that one!

- They're making funny noises.

Come on.

- Mum, shall we write to Bilal?

- Well, he'll have to write first because I don't know where he is.

So he knows where we are?

No.

If he doesn't know where WE are and we don't know

where HE is, he won't be able to write, will he?

- He probably doesn't want to write.

- Don't we have an address, Mum?

I'm sorry, Mum.

Mum, don't cry.

- Bonjour, Madame. - Bonjour. - Puis-je

vous aider? - Je cherches Mr Santoni.

If she begs for money,

I'll kill her. I'll kill her.

Hello?

Ah, Julia.

I'm afraid you missed quite an average party.

Come, come in.

This is Charlotte.

And this is Monsieur Ben Said.

Do excuse the mess.

- Can I help?

- I'm not sure if that would be an improvement.

- On the contrary - how sweet.

- I'm Bea.

Oh! My God! Why are you hiding?

Not actually hiding, we're sort of exploring.

- Hideous Kinky! - Hideous Kin... -

Bea! How long have you been in Morocco?

About a year.

Tell all.

Father Christmas!

Mussolini!

- Billy Bunter. No! Your father!

- Sheikh Ben Jalil.

- What?!

- That's where Mum's going.

Isn't it, Mum?

The Sufis. And do you know

what to expect of these Sufis?

- Knowledge, I hope. Some kind of guidance.

- Let me tell you.

To start with, sitting around on cushions,

a great deal of illogic,

and even a greater deal more incense.

Days of fasting, interminable amounts of prayer,

and a personal visit from God.

That's our country's tragedy

- this escapism.

I'm not escaping anything.

I want to understand the truth.

You think the truth will just come

and curl up on your lap like a cat?

Be warned. They're quite, quite dangerous

to the mind, these Asian frauds.

- They wouldn't be allowed in Europe.

- But Europe lacks this inner world.

The world is simply the world for

present duties or passing pleasures.

- What's so great about passing pleasures?

- They're more amusing.

Oh, sure! Which is fine, you know.

You know, it's fine for children,

like cornflakes!

Julia, ignore Ben Said

- he works for the tax department.

- Actually, Ben Said IS the tax department.

- Oh.

- Mum, it still itches.

- Oh, Lucy, don't scratch.

I bought this in the medina,

but it won't open.

Charlotte.

Man's work.

- Ben.

- Hmm?

I command you to open this tin.

Oh!

- Look, Charlotte, it's boot polish.

- Wretched country.

My God!

You look grotesque!

You know, that language will land

those children in trouble.

- You need discipline, Julia.

- I had plenty of that in my childhood.

- I can't say it did me any good.

- I'd probably say the same, unfortunately.

- Shouldn't you go home? - To a

one-room flat? - It's better than here!

Or home in the evening with them rigid

from child-minders and TV?

- 14 working hours a day for nothing?

- But...

- Charlotte, you just don't know about these things.

- Of course.

Children are a gift, but you don't have

the right to put them in danger.

I beg your pardon?

- You can't drag them round Morocco in the company of escaped criminals.

- What the bloody hell do you mean?!

Bea?

Bea, what have you been saying?

So why did he lie?

So how come the policeman knew his face?

- Whose face? Bilal?

- So what about Fatima? What about his wife?

- What wife?!

- How come we had to go to Agadir and hide at the lake?

- That was just a holiday.

- Yeah, on the run!

- Does that mean Bilal can't come and stay with us?

- Lucy! God forbid!

Thump, thump! Its fingers travelled the world, strangling its victims.

It was the Black Hand.

The Black Hand left one clue on the necks

of its victims - a sooty print of its thumb.

She ran and ran, but she couldn't escape.

No-one was waiting at home for her.

Only the hideous scissors.

Lucy?

The cheque's arrived.

Bea, you have to tell Mum, you do!

The money's come, but not enough

- we'll have to hitchhike to Algiers.

Mum?

Bea has something to say.

I've been talking to Charlotte.

She says I can stay here until you get back.

- Is that what you want?

- If you really want to go.

- What does Charlotte say?

- That it's no place for girls to run wild in.

I don't need another adventure, Mum.

I have to go to school. I have to learn things.

I'll still be here when you get back.

Fine.

I never thought she'd say that.

- Bea?

- You know, Lucy, you don't have to go either.

Not if you don't want to.

Hideous.

Kinky.

- Charlotte?

- Where are you?

- I know you're here somewhere!

Charlotte?

- Hello!

- I can't find you.

Where are you? I know you're here somewhere.

I got you!

I found you!

I got you, I got you!

Bea!

See you soon, Bea. Bye, Bea!

- Bye, darling!

- See you soon, Bea!

Algiers?

Henning... Henning.

Henning?

Algiers.

Rush hour!

Henning? Henning.

Algiers?

- Mum, that's my turban.

- It's so he won't be so mad, darling.

You've got your blue one.

Lal! Hashish! Riffraff! Ramadan!

Jellybean! Jellybo! Sastra! Akabar!

Annihi-la-tion!

Hashish! Riffraff! Ramadan!

Jellybean! Jellybo! Sastra! Akabar!

Annihi-la-tion!

Qu'est-ce-que vous faites?

Attention!

Vous etes fou!

Hold onto me, Lucy!

Stop! STOP!

Bloody hell! Are you all right, Lucy?

- Are you from London? - Yes. -

Leicester Square. - Yes. - East Acton.

- My cousin lives there - Majam. Do you know him?

- No!

Please, wait here.

- Mum, is Sheikh Ben Jalil in here?

- Yes, darling. - Is he coming out?

No, I don't think so.

- He's dead.

- Oh!

- Mum, how long are we going to stay here?

- As long as it takes, darling.

Look at you!

You've gone all blue!

- 'Mum, what do Sufis do?

- The Sufis have a key, Lucy, to another world.

'And what's in the other world?

'A kind of pure joy,

a blissful emptiness and no pain.

'No pain at all.

- 'No tummy-ache?'

- 'Yes, no tummy-ache. '

- Mum, where's the lipstick from?

- I'm meeting the new sheikh.

- One moment.

Kiss.

Bye, Mummy.

I'm so sorry about Sheikh Ben Jalil.

He was getting old and a bit unruly!

Please.

You are from London. You work there?

Oh, well, I have a family.

Sheikh Habas, I wanted to ask you about spiritual baraca.

Of course. And your age?

- And father and mother?

- They're both dead.

- And children? - Yes, two.

- And they are here with you?

One is.

- And your husband?

- Yes.

- He lives in London.

- So you are apart?

Yes.

And you still have a feeling of love for him?

Actually, he's not my husband.

And yes...

- Yes, I do.

Sorry.

Sorry.

This is a bit of a surprise.

Tears are for memory. They are a gift from God.

Without them, how could we remember ourselves?

Let the wound remember him.

I'm not ready, am I?

Thank you.

Bea!

Bea.

Bea!

BEA!

Did Charlotte bring you here?

No, I walked, because you've both forgotten about me, haven't you?

No, Bea.

- And don't worry about Bilal. - Bilal?

- I'm his favourite now. - Oh, Bea.

What the hell is that?

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