Craig has a two-minute shower and pulls on jeans and a hoody. He bangs on Mark’s door, tells him to get up, and says he’s off to get the van.
When he returns an hour later, Mark’s bedroom door is still shut. Craig mutters swear words, knocks twice and when there is no answer, goes in.
All of Mark’s clothes and possessions are boxed and labelled. The bed has been stripped, there’s nothing on the walls, and the bathroom has been cleaned. The wardrobe doors are open, as are the windows.
‘Meant to do this on my own, am I?’ Craig says to himself. He sends Mark a text and walks out to the kitchen.
All the kitchenware is packed up, the cupboards have been emptied, and the fridge and oven are spotless. Craig searches through the boxes, finds a glass wrapped in newspaper and has a drink of water.
Mark has left a note on the table: Gone to Tower Bridge. Go on without me as I may be some time - I know you’re strong enough. Take care of my stuff. Sorry for doing this to you. I’ll make it up to you in another life. M
‘Oh my fucking god, what’s he…’ Craig says, starting to panic. He stands holding the note and reads it back to himself again and again before stuffing it into his pocket and grabbing the van keys.
He gets behind the wheel of the rented Volkswagen and leaves Amy a message asking her to call him straight away as he hurtles up to Lavender Hill. It’s a gloomy, overcast morning and the roads through Clapham are relatively clear. He gets a call as he reaches Battersea.
‘AMY,’ he shouts, switching the phone to speaker and placing it on the passenger seat. ‘CAN YOU HEAR ME? IT’S MARK.’
‘Mark? Craig? What about Mark? I’m on my way to a meeting.’
‘Shit,’ he says, just making it through a red light.
‘Craig, are you driving? I can’t hear you very well, the reception’s awful.’
‘AMY, I THINK MARK’S GONE TO THROW HIMSELF OFF A BRIDGE.’
‘What? What do you mean?’ she asks calmly.
‘WE WERE MEANT TO BE MOVING OUT THIS MORNING BUT HE’S DISAPPEARED AND HE’S LEFT ME A NOTE SAYING HE’S SORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING AND THAT HE’LL SEE ME IN ANOTHER LIFE.’
‘Craig I can’t really hear you. Are you sure? I can’t imagine Mark-’
‘HE’S LEFT ME A NOTE SAYING HE’S GOING TO TOWER BRIDGE,’ he shouts louder. ‘WHERE’S TOWER BRIDGE?’
‘Where are you?’
‘BATTERSEA.’
‘You need to go towards the City. Craig, are you sure he’s there?’ she says, sounding increasingly anxious.
‘YES! YES, I’M SURE. I’M VERY SURE. HIS PHONE’S SWITCHED OFF AND HE’S CLEARED HIS ROOM OUT. AMY, I NEED YOU TO MEET ME THERE.’
‘OK, OK. I’m in Kings Cross, but I’ll leave now. Craig, don’t panic. And be careful. Ring me as soon as you’re there. I’ll keep trying his phone.’
Craig speeds across Battersea Bridge and turns right onto Chelsea Embankment narrowly missing a taxi whose driver slams on the brakes and beeps furiously as Craig accelerates away. He follows the signs for Central London but gets held up at the traffic lights by Albert Bridge. Once they turn green, he powers along the tree-lined road, the Thames on his right and Battersea Power Station rapidly approaching in the distance.
‘Where the hell’s this?’ he says as he passes Chelsea Bridge and drives down into Pimlico. He reaches the junction of Millbank and Vauxhall Bridge Road and goes straight ahead, but there are roadworks and he ends up tailgating a Mercedes people carrier.
He continues past rows of Georgian mansions and uses the drop-off area outside the Tate Gallery to overtake the Mercedes and a Royal Mail van.
As he approaches Westminster, the traffic is heavy and he’s stuck behind a lorry loaded with timber. The roads around Parliament Square are slow and Craig tells himself to stay calm. His hands are sweating on the steering wheel. He tries Mark’s mobile again at traffic lights on the Victoria Embankment but the call cuts out without ringing.
Amy calls as he passes Temple underground station, but he accidently cancels it as he grabs at his phone and it drops between the passenger seat and handbrake. He leaves it and concentrates on the road as he flies down into Blackfriars underpass.
Craig reaches the City, where offices and commercial buildings block his view of the river. He mutters, ‘Fucking hell, how many bridges are there?’ as he passes Southwark Bridge Road and repeatedly thumps his fist on the dashboard along Lower Thames Street as he’s boxed in by courier vans, taxis and motorcycles.
The Tower of London and Tower Bridge dominate the horizon as he crawls past All Hallows Church. He tails a bus and takes a right onto Tower Bridge Approach then swings left down St Katherine’s Way, a side road running parallel to the bridge. He brakes sharply and parks on double-yellow lines in the shadow of the Tower Hotel.
He retrieves his phone, locks the van and runs down the cobbled street to the water’s edge.
There is a police boat and a black motorised dingy bobbing on the river less than a hundred feet away. A police helicopter hovers high above and a crowd has formed on the bridge at the base of the north tower.
Craig sprints up the steps and shoves his way through the onlookers, who are mainly tourists. Some of them are filming the search operation. He hangs over the ramparts and looks down into the water. A police diver on board the dingy is relaying a message to the pilot of the boat.
‘What happened?’ Craig demands to know from an elderly man in a baseball cap.
‘Someone jumped in,’ says the American.
‘Who jumped in?’
‘A woman. I saw it all. I was just walking across the bridge and then all of a sudden this lady – tall, smart lady in a suit – takes her shoes off and climbs up on the barrier by that lamppost there,’ he points over Craig’s shoulder, ‘and throws herself in. It was all over in seconds. Just like that. Boom. Straight in. We all looked down there but she just disappeared in the water.’
‘Definitely a woman?’
‘Yes. A tall, thin lady. She jumped straight down. No hesitation. Are you feeling OK, son? Do you need to sit down?’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ Craig says, swaying into the woman behind him.
He turns away from the edge, pushes his way through the pack and staggers back in the direction of the van, barely looking where he’s going. He stumbles down the steps and makes it to a bench overlooking the river. It takes a couple of minutes for him to stop panting as he sits staring vacantly at the rescue boats.
Two police frogmen resurface. There are stunned faces and a couple of camera flashes on the bridge as the divers pull a body from the water.
Craig walks to the railings on the water’s edge. There are beads of sweat on his forehead and he shivers. After several minutes of gazing down into the water, some colour returns to his face and he wanders along the river, away from the bridge, past the reception of the hotel.
Amy calls.
‘Amy.’ His voice is strained.
‘Thank fuck for that.’ He sits on a low brick wall facing the river by a statue of a sundial. He leans forward with elbows on knees and apologises for swearing.
‘Where is he?
‘I’m by the river.
‘Why didn’t he ring me? I left so many messages.
‘I got here and police divers were looking for someone in the river. They’ve just pulled a body out, I think. They’re still out there now. When I got here and saw that I-
‘No, it was a woman. I ran up onto the bridge and I saw all that happening and couldn’t help thinking the worst. God I was-
‘Well he better be. I feel like I’ve had a heart attack.
‘No, I’m OK.
‘OK.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, but I’ll show you the note…
‘When I got here and saw all the people looking into the water, part of me was just waiting for them to find him. I-
‘No, it’s fine. I might just go and get a coffee and something to eat first, then I’ll go and find him.
‘It’s my fault.
‘Thanks. I just need to sit down, my heart’s still racing. All I was thinking about was how was I going to tell people, and what I would tell people. I don’t know why but I felt like I’d caused it.
‘When I was driving here I was thinking about everything he’d said in the last few days and wondering if he’d been trying to tell me something which I’d ignored or not picked up on. And then the note this morning…
‘No, don’t worry I won’t. I’m not angry, I’m just glad he hasn’t done something stupid.
‘No. Are you sure?
‘Text me where you are and I’ll-
‘OK. I just need to sit on my own for a minute and cool down though. I think I’m still in shock. I’ll ring you if I can’t find him.
‘Call me when you get to Tower Hill.’
Craig wipes his forehead and watches as the rescue boats disappear down river. The crowd on Tower Bridge has dispersed. He gets to his feet and crosses the lock into St Katherine Docks.
The marina – bordered by the back of the Tower Hotel and a Victorian-era warehouse which has been converted into shops and offices – is teeming with multi-million pound yachts. Beyond them are two larger docks full of equally expensive vessels, surrounded by modern apartments and a decked piazza of shops and restaurants. Facing Craig across the cobbles is the Sir Frances Drake, a timber-framed pub with verandas overlooking the marina. After stopping to admire the boats, he starts to walk towards Starbucks but then heads to the pub instead. As he approaches the entrance, something catches his attention in the window: Mark, drinking a pint.
Mark does a double-take and grabs The Daily Telegraph from the next table as Craig bounds up the steps. Craig turns the corner to see him, arms outstretched, trying to hide behind the newspaper.
Craig walks up to him and stands there.
Mark brings the paper closer to his face.
‘Put the paper down, Mark.’ Nothing happens. ‘Mark, stop being a prick,’ Craig says grabbing The Telegraph out of his hands.
‘Sorry mate,’ he says sheepishly. He’s had his hair cut and is wearing a smart suit and tie. ‘I swear I was only having one pint and I was coming straight back. Please don’t go mental at me.’
Craig sits down. His face is red and he’s clenching his jaw. ‘What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that? Have you-’
‘What? Really?’ Craig is instantly less agitated.
‘Yes. Sorry. I was hoping it wouldn’t last that long so I could come back and help, but it overran and then they called me back for psychometric testing. I didn’t want to tell you in case nothing came of it. I did leave you a note.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Craig says, tugging it out of his pocket. ‘Do you know what I’ve done this morning?’
‘Got angry and come looking for me?’
‘I wasn’t angry mate. I, I thought you’d thrown yourself in the river.’
‘What?’ Mark says, dumbfounded. ‘Why did you think that?’
‘Look at what the note says.’ Craig flicks it over to him.
Mark reads it. ‘What made you think I’d thrown myself in the river?’ he says half-laughing.
‘Gone to Tower Bridge.’
‘I had gone to Tower Bridge.’
‘Yes, but why didn’t you write, Gone for an interview near Tower Bridge? This makes it sound like you’re standing on the bridge.’
‘Mate, I meant the Tower Bridge area, why did you take it so literally? And what made you think I was going to throw myself off?’ Mark says open-mouthed.
‘Go on without me. I may be some time.’
‘I didn’t want you to be sitting around waiting, that’s all. I didn’t know what time I was going to be back. I hoped I’d be back quickly; I was just warning you.’
‘Yes, but I may be some time was what that explorer said before he walked off into an Arctic storm to die.’
‘What explorer? When was this?’
‘I can’t think of his name, but it’s a famous quote. It was probably about a hundred years ago. He thought he was slowing the team down, so to give the others a better chance of surviving, he killed himself.’
‘Really? I’ve never heard that before.’
‘It’s a famous story. Google it. Anyway, how about all this about me being strong and take care of my stuff?
‘I was talking about carrying boxes! Some of my stuff’s a bit delicate. I didn’t want you chucking it around and breaking it. Not that you’d do that, but I just wanted to tell you.’
Craig shakes his head. ‘And sorry for doing this to you.’
‘I am sorry, genuinely. I didn’t want to leave you to carry everything on your own. That’s why I did as much as I could before I left.’
‘Yes, I know but that just made me even more worried because it was so tidy, it was totally unlike you. It was like you were packing everything away and saying goodbye.’
‘That’s what I was doing. We’re moving out! What did you expect my room to look like?’
‘A tip as usual! But I… but you said you’d make it up to me in another life. Who says that? Why not write, I’ll buy you a beer or something like that?’
‘That’s just one of those sayings,’ Mark says, trying to play it down. ‘Anyway I won’t make it up to you in another life; I’ll make it up to you today. Do you want a beer?’
Craig ignores the question. ‘Do you realise I almost caused about four accidents driving over here and I’ve probably been done for speeding. And when I arrived they were pulling someone out of the river!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ Craig snaps. ‘I thought it might have been you. I thought I was going to have to identify your body and call your mum and dad to tell them that you’re dead!’
Mark starts laughing.
‘It’s not funny Mark. I was going mad.’
‘OK, OK, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just never thought you’d jump to such a mental conclusion. I’m really sorry. I never meant to cause all this fuss. Honestly.’ He looks out towards the water. ‘Who was in the river?’
‘A woman,’ Craig says, calming down.
‘How old was she?’
‘Not that old I don’t think.’
There’s a long, reflective silence.
‘I still don’t understand though mate, why did you think I’d want to kill myself?’ Mark asks, lowering his voice towards the end of the sentence. ‘I’m a bit… hurt to be honest.’
Craig sighs. ‘I don’t know. Because of how you’ve been recently I suppose.’
‘What do you mean? I’ve not been that bad mate.’
‘Mate, since you stopped working, you’ve been like a different person, like a ghost.’
‘I thought you’d think that was a good thing.’
Craig shakes his head. ‘No, not completely. I was worried. And Amy was. I didn’t actually think you’d kill yourself, at least I hoped not, but think of it from my point of view. You’ve seemed so down for the last couple of months, you’ve barely spoken to me, and apart from seeing Amy or going to the gym you’ve just been in the house all day. You’ve not been yourself and then when I saw the note, my mind just went into overdrive.’
Mark frowns. ‘Sorry,’ he says eventually.
‘And I know when people feel a bit depressed they can do things that are completely out of character.’
‘I suppose so.’ Mark reaches for his glass and huffs. ‘I understand. I’ve not been depressed though. It’s just… the last couple of months have been a bit of a shock. It’s all been a bit… confusing. You know? Everything was going really well and then suddenly… nothing. I wasn’t sure what to do. I had loads of ideas, obviously, but…’
‘I know how it feels.’
Craig goes to the bar to get an orange juice. Mark looks deep in thought when he returns.
‘I remember how I felt all the time I was at Cinq,’ Craig says. ‘Not having any money, not being able to get another job. I felt so anxious all the time. I could have a few beers to forget about it, but the feeling always came back the next morning.’
‘At least you had work to keep your mind occupied though.’
‘But work was the problem. I couldn’t escape it.’
The boys sit quietly with their drinks, barely talking, until Amy arrives. Her cheeks are bright red and her hair has been blown about in the wind. Mark stands up to greet her but she sits down next to Craig and asks if he’s OK.
‘I’m better now,’ Craig says.
‘You didn’t think I’d done anything crazy did you?’ Mark asks her.
‘You shouldn’t have just gone off like that,’ Amy says bluntly.
Mark’s smile fades. ‘I did leave a note.’
‘Yeah and look what it says.’ Craig shows it to Amy.
‘Bloody hell, Mark. You could have chosen your words a bit more carefully.’ She tuts and passes it back.
‘Look, I’m sorry, OK? I really didn’t mean for both of you to get in such a panic. I thought I’d be out and back quickly and everything would be fine.’
‘Yeah but it wasn’t fine was it,’ Craig says.
‘I’ve said sorry about a hundred times now. What more can I do? Anyway why has nobody asked me how the interview went?’
‘How did it go then?’ Amy asks. ‘You look smart. Your hair looks better.’
‘Thanks. It went well.’
‘What’s it for?’ Craig asks.
‘It’s a corporate partnership manager role.’
‘For who?’
‘The Royal Military Trust. They’re a charity that raises money for wounded soldiers and their families. They want someone with financial experience to deal with their corporate donors and, if possible, wring more money out of them.’
Craig looks at Amy. ‘That’s-’
‘That sounds great,’ Amy says, kicking Craig under the table. ‘When did you apply for that?’
‘I didn’t. I got a phone call from a recruitment agent who’d seen my LinkedIn profile and he arranged an interview.’
‘Did you have to send your CV in?’
‘He said he already had it.’
‘Where did he get it from?’
‘I think I applied for something through him a while ago. He must have had it on file.’
‘Yeah, probably,’ Craig says. ‘Did they ask you any tough questions in the interview?’
‘Not really but I had a bit of a panic before I went in.’
‘What about?’
‘Well, I suddenly realised that I didn’t know which version of my CV they had, and I couldn’t remember what I’d said on what version.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I took a risk: I just told them the truth.’
Craig and Amy glance at each other.
‘What did that feel like?’ Craig asks.
‘It was easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t have to remember anything; I just told them more or less what I’d been doing. I only slipped up on one bit, which was the year I left school. I went through a spell of making it a year earlier on my CV and I’d stuck to that for so long that I confused myself about when it actually was.’
‘How did you get out of it?’
‘I said I’d got concussion from a bang on the head playing rugby at the weekend so I was a bit confused about dates.’
‘So you lied,’ Amy says.
‘Yes, but I could hardly tell them the truth could I?’
‘I suppose not. When do you find out if you’ve got it or not?’
‘Oh, I’ve found out already. That’s why I was in here having a beer. They’ve offered it to me.’
‘Well done mate,’ Craig says.
‘That’s brilliant. I’m really happy for you,’ Amy says.
‘Thanks,’ Mark says, ‘but I’m not sure if I’m going to take it.’
‘Why not? Are you serious?’ Amy says.
‘Well I’m not sure if it’s the right job for me. The bonus scheme isn’t that good and I’ve got my business interests-’
‘What business interests?’ Craig says.
‘Mark, if you turn this job down, you’re an even bigger fool that I thought you were,’ Amy says. ‘You’re in no position to be picky. How are you going to pay your rent? Your parents aren’t going to help you.’
‘They’re not even talking to me.’
‘Why not?’ Craig asks.
‘They found out about me spending the inheritance money.’
‘Oh.’
‘There are other jobs out there though, I don’t want to commit-’
‘How many other interviews have you got lined up?’ Amy asks.
‘Um, well, none at the moment, but I’m getting a few calls from recruitment people but…’
‘But what?’
‘I just want to take time and consider all my options.’
‘Mark, you’ve had the last three months to consider your options.’
‘I know, but like I said, I’m pretty sure there could be something better out there.’
‘Like what? Don’t you realise that if you don’t take this job it could be six months or a year before you get another one.’
‘Don’t be dramatic,’ Mark says. ‘I think we’ll probably be sitting here in a couple of years, in 2010, and we’ll look back at this so-called crash and we’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.’
‘Well, you’re in a minority of one,’ Amy says. ‘And I’m not being dramatic. You need money, quickly, and who knows what state the job market might be in in a few months.’
‘And I can’t pay your rent mate,’ Craig says.
‘Craig, you’d never need to pay my rent and I know some doom-mongers are saying the economy’s ruined but let’s just wait and see-’
‘No Mark, let’s not just wait and see. I’m actually getting angry now,’ Amy says, ‘We’ve been busting a gut trying to help you.’
‘How?’
‘How? Are you being serious? Who wrote your LinkedIn profile, Mark? Who’s been sending your CV to recruitment agents? Who’s been applying for jobs for you?’
‘I did LinkedIn, ages ago, and all the job-’
‘We’ve been doing it you idiot,’ Amy snaps. ‘Why do you think you’ve been getting phone calls and emails about jobs?’
‘I just thought-’
‘Just thought that if you did nothing, the jobs would come to you?’
‘No but-’
‘We spent ages rewriting your CV, and Amy has been doing all these covering letters and application forms for you,’ says Craig.
‘You don’t realise how bad the job situation is because you haven’t been trying to get one,’ Amy says. ‘You’re not immune from this, Mark. You’re not some special case.’
Mark is visibly shaken by Amy’s retort and doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. ‘But I don’t understand,’ he says finally. ‘Why would you do all this for me?’
‘Because we care, Mark. Why else do you think we’d do it?’ Amy says. ‘The longer you’re out of a job, the harder it will be to get one, and we’re not going to let you fall by the wayside. And Craig needs a flatmate who can pay half the bills.’
‘Do you both think I’m that useless that I couldn’t get a job by myself?’
‘No, mate,’ Craig says. ‘But we just thought you might need a little push in the right direction.’
‘Well thanks, but today that was me, not you. It was me on my own in the interview and it was my experience and my qualifications and my personality. It wasn’t anyone else.’
‘We never said it was anyone else,’ Amy says.
‘And they thought I was the best person for the job. They seemed to like me.’
‘But why wouldn’t they like you, Mark? What’s wrong with you just being Mark rather than feeling you have to act up to this stupid City idiot persona all the time? Everyone would like this Mark; you’ve just chosen to keep him hidden. We’re not interested in what car you’ve got or what nightclubs you’ve been to-’
‘Or where you’re going skiing,’ Craig chips in.
‘We’d rather you just tried a bit less hard at trying to be someone you’re not and tried a bit harder with the people who care about you, like us two, and your family. Nobody is interested in the bullshit; not us, not your employers, not anyone.’
Mark gives Amy a sulky glance and his head drops. A waiter asks him if he’s finished with his glass. He drinks the remaining inch of his pint and hands it over.
He sniffs and says, ‘So you both think I’d be stupid to turn this job down?’
‘Yes,’ Craig and Amy say emphatically.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Mark says with a shrug. ‘I’m not ungrateful. I knew that somebody must have been doing something. I haven’t got to let the Trust know until Monday but I’ll ring later and tell them I’ll take it. I know I shouldn’t go on hoping something better will come up.’
‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since I’ve known you,’ Amy says.
Mark half-smiles. ‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I’m not a complete moron,’ he says, leaning back in his chair.
‘You’re not a moron, Mark, just a bit… misguided. But at least you won’t be unemployed. And I bet you it’ll be a better place to work than where I am at the moment.’
‘I’d hope so. But the bonus-’
‘Will you stop going on about the bonus, it’s like you’ve been brainwashed,’ Amy says.
‘I’ve never had a bonus, from any job,’ Craig says.
‘OK, sorry. I know a good bonus isn’t everything and if I don’t like it I suppose I can just get another job somewhere else.’
Amy rolls her eyes. ‘Why don’t you give the new job a few weeks before you start thinking about your next move?’
‘I suppose it’s better to be working than sitting in watching Sky all day isn’t it?’ Mark says, sounding slightly more upbeat. ‘And I’ll have more money again.’
‘Probably more than you had before now you’re not paying an astronomical rent.’
‘I hadn’t thought about that. There are some positives.’
‘There are lots of positives,’ Amy says, ‘I can’t believe it’s taken you so long to realise it.’
‘I do realise, honestly.’ Mark gets to his feet and gets his wallet out. ‘We should have a celebration drink.’
‘Mate, um, I don’t want to be a spoilsport,’ Craig says, ‘but I’ve got the van and we need to move our stuff this afternoon. We shouldn’t really-’
Mark shakes his head. ‘Craig, forget the van; I’ll sort that out later.’
‘But-’
‘Come on, don’t be boring. Amy, call work and tell them you’re not coming back this afternoon, and Craig, call Hannah and get her down here as well. Let’s have a drink; I owe you.’
‘Yes, but you don’t have to do it right now,’ Craig says. ‘We’ve got the whole weekend-’
‘We’ve got the whole weekend to move. Please, have a drink with me. I’ll sort everything out, I promise.’
‘Mark, I’ve got a meeting this afternoon,’ Amy says.
‘Make up an excuse and cancel it, please, just for me, I’m not taking no for an answer. We’re celebrating, come on. I’ve read about loads of entrepreneurs who’ve had things go wrong and lost all their money and come back stronger. That’s what I’ll do. This is the second coming of Mark Hunter. Now suddenly everything’s making sense. That must be worth a drink surely? Someone get me a wine list. They’ll do champagne here, won’t they? They must do, I’ll ask the barman. Can I borrow one of your credit cards?’