Chali and I were in the shop, gassing away as usual, as I threw the roses together. I hated doing roses. One, they hurt, and two, they were only bought by teenagers and men who weren’t very nice to their wives. Chali had decided to plait her hair with all the different-coloured ribbons in the shop and was intent on that, and chewing gum in the face of anyone who came in looking for service, so I was hovering near the front.
It was about a month since the party, although we were still finding bits of broken glass beside the washing machine. I had just about bitten down my embarrassment – i.e., whenever I thought about Finn, or Kate mentioned him, I didn’t have to stuff my fingers in my mouth to stop myself from screeching out loud. Poor Kate, however, was on a huge anti-man mission, after John had failed to phone her again. She’d even shout at newsreaders on the TV, calling them ‘lying bastards’ apropos of nothing at all, and as for Americans, they were in serious trouble as a continent. Infuriatingly, Sophie had developed a habit of ‘popping in’ around dinner time, eating like Hector the Hungry Horse, dumping a pile of work on Josh, then disappearing. One night I thought I heard him cry. Kate accused him of being so emasculated his penis would disappear, ‘which would be no bad thing, given the evilness of your entire gender.’
I had hardly seen Addison at all. After his momentary outburst of sociability, he seemed to have retreated again, and although I hovered late at night, the door was never open. I suspected I had frightened him – it was like Badger Watch. He might not reappear for months.
Chali had done better out of the party than anyone, though, as it turned out that the stinky guy really was connected to the music business, and had got her a gig doing backing vocals for a new band. So she was extremely excited and convinced her time had finally come.
‘Loads of people start off being backing singers, you know.’
‘Oh yes, I know,’ I said. ‘Alison Moyet did.’
‘Who?’
‘You know, “Alf” – Alison Moyet.’
‘Nup. Was it pre-war?’
‘Fuck off. Ehm, and that girl out of Fairground Attraction. She was a backing singer for the Eurythmics.’
Chali looked blank. I swore she did this on purpose.
‘You have heard of the Eurythmics?’
‘Holl, right, don’t take this the wrong way, right, but maybe you shouldn’t come to this gig.’
‘Of course I’m coming. We all are. You might get plucked out from the backing singers like … who were you thinking of?’
‘Lauryn Hill, of course.’
‘Oh, yeh, I knew that.’
‘Do you have to bring that girly blond mate of yours?’
‘Who, Sophie? No, she’s not a friend of mine.’
‘No, not her, the bloke.’
‘Josh?’
‘Yeh. He’ll stand out like a prat.’
‘Wow. You’re almost as horrible as a real star already!’
‘Do you think you’ll ever find a boyfriend?’
I was giving her the V’s when the door opened with a ting, and I glanced up without enthusiasm. Chali didn’t bother looking up at all. That’s pretty hard to do – you have to ignore your own basic physiological reflexes – and she had picked it up from snotty club entry policies and practised really hard.
The punter stood blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the shop after the brightness of the June day.
‘Hello,’ I yelled from the other end of the shop. ‘Can I help you?’
He looked up, and with a shock I realized it was Finn. He realized at exactly the same time, and took a step backwards in surprise. He was wearing long khaki shorts over his skinny English legs, and a flowery shirt with two pens in the top pocket.
‘Oh, er, gosh, hello!’ he said, with the expression of a man who’s just been told he’s standing next to an unexploded bomb and if he moves he’ll detonate it. ‘I didn’t know you worked here!’
‘Why would you?’
‘Ehm, no reason.’
Chali snapped up from her hair-plaiting, sniffing the air for gossip.
‘I’d like some, er, flowers, please.’
‘Oh, well, you’ve come to the right place,’ I pointed out. ‘Gerbils all recovered then?’
‘What? Oh, no. Ehm, these are for my sister; she’s just passed her exams.’
‘Cute,’ whispered Chali, nudging me hard in the ribs.
‘Shut up,’ I hissed violently, then turned back to him.
‘Right, right – driving test, is it?’
‘She’s just taken a double first at Cambridge, actually.’
‘Is that good or bad?’ I said, putting on a concerned expression, purely to annoy him.
He looked bemused. ‘Ehm, well, it’s quite good,’ he said. ‘So, you know, not funeral flowers or anything like that.’
‘OK,’ I said briskly. ‘Bouquet, or all one style? Or, if she’s a bit of a swot, she might prefer a house plant. It’s got the Latin name on it.’
‘I don’t know … whatever you think. You know, I meant to ring and say thanks for the party.’
‘Oh? Why didn’t you? Maybe I could have embarrassed myself some more on the phone for you.’
‘I don’t know … I thought you might be …’
‘Rude to you, like she’s being now?’ interjected Chali.
‘What?’ I said. ‘I’m not being rude!’
Chali and Finn exchanged a glance.
‘You are being a bit rude,’ said Finn.
‘Am I?’
‘Darling, you’re being a complete dog,’ said Chali. ‘Remember, you’re not as young as you once were. You should take every opportunity that comes your way.’
I shot her a dirty look. ‘OK, I’ll stop being rude to him, but for that last remark I’m now going to be rude to you. Piss off.’
She shrugged. ‘Like I care. You’ll be sorry when I’m famous. Won’t she?’
‘I expect so,’ said Finn.
‘See?’ She nudged me. ‘A nice bloke comes in to ask you out, you can at least be civil.’
‘I didn’t …’ he began, then he stopped and smiled suddenly. ‘This seems to keep happening, doesn’t it?’ he said to me.
‘What?’ I asked nervously.
‘We’re mistaken for … you know.’
‘No … normally what happens is that I think we might be, then you gently point out that you don’t like me.’
‘I don’t not like you!’
‘You say such sweet things.’
His brow furrowed in concentration. Then he obviously made some internal decision and put his hand on the counter.
‘Ehm, Holl, maybe, I don’t know – would you like to … sometime … you know?’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know, maybe … you know …?’
‘Look, Finn, unless you absolutely spell it out for me, I’ll probably take it the wrong way and it will all end up horribly, OK?’
‘Absolutely, yes, I see your problem.’
He took a deep breath and his eyes darted around the shop. Chali had grabbed my elbow in a fit of excitement.
‘Holly, would you like to … consider … coming out on a date with me?’
‘Yes, she would,’ yelled Chali. ‘In fact, she would like to bring you as a guest to my gig.’ And she thrust a badly photocopied leaflet into his face advertising her band, the Bhangpigs.
Finn considered it closely, until I realized he was actually waiting for me to say something.
‘What kind of music are you into normally, like?’ asked Chali.
‘Ehmm … Vaughan Williams?’
‘Oh God, you’re not a poof, are you? That would be so embarrassing, if I’d got Holl a date with a poof.’
‘Why, would it make any difference if I was?’ said Finn, stiffly.
‘If you were going out on a date with me, it would,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes … sorry. I’m so used to City people being awful homophobes all the time.’
‘That’s OK. They can’t help it; it’s all that buggering at school. They liked it, and now they’re ashamed.’
‘Right. Yes. Anyway – well?’
‘What about that woman who handles the insides of dead animals?’
‘What about her?’ said Finn.
‘Are you inserting your penis into her vagina on a regular basis?’ I wanted to ask him, but couldn’t.
‘She’s not my girlfriend, if that’s what you mean,’ he said.
What was she then? Casual shag? Bridge partner? Wife? But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Finn was not, I reckoned, a typical Lothario.
‘A proper date?’ I asked.
‘Well … what does that entail?’
‘Snogging,’ said Chali promptly.
‘Dinner,’ I said simultaneously.
‘Dancing,’ yelled Chali.
‘Flowers and chocolates.’
‘Multiple choice, then,’ he said.
‘Yes, but it can be, you know, “all of the above”.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
I smiled. ‘See you at the gig?’
‘Then dinner afterwards?’
‘That sounds nice.’
He smiled shyly, then retreated out the door.
‘Oh God, Holl, I’m so sorry, yeh? I really didn’t mean to call him a poof, right, it was just, with that flowery shirt and everything … I mean, not that I mind poofs, right, loads of my mates are. But, you know, if I’d asked him out for you … He’s nice, though, inny?’
Chali harangued me as I ignored her and took out a nice bunch of daisies and started wrapping them up, so that I could put them in Finn’s hand with minimum embarrassment when he reappeared two seconds later to collect what he’d come in for. Which, of course, he did, blushing like a demon.
Later, I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about all this. I had to admit, though, that there was something about a person who had seemed so immune to my charms, however average they might be, then changed their mind. I definitely felt like I’d achieved something – made some kind of stand for every girl who has ever made a fool of herself in front of a bloke whilst a bit pissed. They didn’t usually come back after that, but this one had.
Kate and Josh took it with less than ecstatic excitement. Josh barely tilted his head from the sofa, where he was frantically working on a case. I’d never seen him do that before, but, clearly, it was Sophie. She was in Barbados. With whom, I didn’t dare ask.
‘Is this the guy you already haven’t got off with twice?’
‘Uh huh. So, you know, playing hard to get is not the only way!’
‘Holl, are you sure he didn’t just ask you the time or something, and you misinterpreted?’
‘Ha ha ha. He actually came in to see me, remember?’
Kate put her head up. She too was up to the eyeballs, having thrown herself into her work to try and forget thingummy. It was annoying for us, because in her quest for the annihilation of all things American we weren’t allowed to watch ER or drink Diet Coke.
‘How did he know where you worked? He didn’t ask me.’
‘Well, OK, he happened to walk into the shop …’
‘Oh, so you were lying?’
‘…But he couldn’t bear to walk out again without a date from me.’
‘Wow, he’s lucky he didn’t decide just to pick up a bunch of daffs at the petrol station. You get some right boilers working in there.’
‘Thank you, Josh. How’s your lifetime of servitude coming along?’
‘I think I’m earning Sophie’s love, thank you.’
‘Love is a very close emotion to contempt, isn’t it?’ mused Kate. ‘As in, “How contemptuous am I of John?”’
‘Truly madly deeply?’
She sighed. ‘Yes, dammit. Did I hear the phone ring just then?’
‘No,’ we chorused.
‘I’m so glad we spent all that money on the singles party,’ I said.
‘Well, it gave me one wonderful night,’ sighed Kate.
‘And me,’ said Josh.
‘And it got me a date, I suppose.’
‘So, there you go. Well worth four hundred quid.’
‘And the weeks of anguish.’
‘And all the cleaning up.’
‘And the loss of Pet Sounds.’
‘And …’
‘OK, everyone, shut up now,’ ordered Josh.
‘Please come,’ I said to Addison for the four hundredth time. This was my secret pact with myself. If Addison wouldn’t come to the gig, I was going to get off with Finn. But if he came, I would save myself for him. If he said he was going to come and then didn’t turn up, I would still save myself for him. But if he point-blank turned me down – well, he might as well just thrust me into Finn’s arms. I couldn’t say I wasn’t giving him a chance.
‘Pleeeeese come. They use a drum machine.’
‘But I don’t want to.’
‘How do you know? They might be fantastic.’
‘Then I’ll download their album on MP3.’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. Look, I just don’t feel like going out, OK?’
‘Addison, you know, everyone goes out sometimes.’
‘Not me.’
‘Did you …’ I couldn’t bring myself to ask him directly. ‘Did you always stay in a lot?’
‘No. I just like it now.’
He clammed up. I didn’t feel I could pursue the matter, but I was burning – unfortunate phrase – to know what had happened. Also, if I’d been in a house fire I’d probably live out in the middle of an enormous field and never go indoors at all. I just didn’t get it.
‘How’s Claudia?’
‘I think she’s forgiven me for the party thing.’
‘But you didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘I frightened her, and I didn’t mean to.’
‘She’s a mentalist!’ I thought, but I kept it to myself.
‘She sounds like, you know, she has a few problems.’
‘No, she can be quite funny, really. The other day, she told this … OK, how does Captain Jean-Luc Picard change a lightbulb?’
‘What?’
‘“Make it glow!”’ He laughed heartily.
‘That is hilarious,’ I said gravely. ‘Addy, pleeese come to this gig. Otherwise, you know, I can’t answer for the consequences.’
‘What consequences?’
‘Well, you know, I won’t necessarily be your next-door flatmate forever. I might, you know, go to the gig, meet someone nice, get married, move away. And who would you talk to then?’
‘Claudia?’
As if in reply to some sub-ether summons, the grotesque face suddenly appeared on screen. Addison had obviously done something to it, because now the head rotated in 3-D. It was like that scene from The Exorcist, only Claudia didn’t need the Oscar-winning make-up job.
‘Ahh!’ I yelped.
‘Oh, there she is.’
Words started appearing on screen in upper case. I couldn’t help reading them.
‘IS SHE THERE?’ it said.
‘Whoops,’ I said. ‘Guess someone’s a bit jealous.’
‘No,’ typed Addison.
‘No? Why don’t you tell her the truth? That makes me feel like I’m invisible.’
He shrugged at me.
‘It’s OK! You can talk, you know – she can’t hear you!’
‘OK. Ehm, I’m sorry – she does get a bit jealous.’
‘Ha! Better not go and visit her – have you ever seen the film Misery? You’ll come back with no legs.’
He didn’t respond, and started typing away heartily.
‘Well, GOODBYE THEN!’ I said loudly. ‘I’m off to the gig ON MY OWN. DON’T WAIT UP! BYE, CLAUDIA!’
He turned round briefly.
‘Have a good time.’
‘THANK YOU. I will try and have a good time ALL BY MYSELF.’
‘I hope you meet someone nice. I liked that person that was at the party. Someone like him would be all right.’
I stomped out, leaving him rather puzzled.
I wasn’t going by myself, of course. Josh and Kate were coming; (1) because they were interested in seeing Chali in a band and pretending they were hip young things, and (2) I needed the back-up in case it all went wrong with Finn.
I’d expected to be able to have a good laugh at Kate when she turned up for a gig in an Emporio Armani suit, but annoyingly she was wearing fashionably short jeans and a little top, and looked fantastic – there obviously was something in all this gym stuff after all. Josh wore a dark suit with a slightly louder tie than normal, but it wasn’t as much fun to laugh at him.
It had suddenly turned cold, in typical English summer style, and the sky was grey and overcast. The gig was in a really nasty, scary pub in King’s Cross, and didn’t even start until ten. Lots of people who looked like they might have razors secreted about their person mooched about in front of us, and Scottish people yelled at us incoherently.
‘Why are there so many drunk Scottish people here?’ asked Josh loudly in his clipped accent.
‘Shut up!’ I pinched him hard, before we all got taken into a dark alley and duffed up. ‘It’s an exchange scheme. Edinburgh’s full of pissed Cockneys asking people for ten pee for an eel pie.’
Chali had been nominally working today, but had spent the entire day in a fit of excitement, asking me whether I preferred the bolt or the hoop skewered through her eyebrow. She’d even tried to rope Mrs Bigelow into coming, who’d said she hadn’t missed Coronation Street since Charles and Diana’s wedding, and wasn’t Chali a bit worried that people might mistake her for a professional, dressed like that?
At the door we were charged a revolting ten pounds to get in. Josh and Kate just handed it over as if it were nothing – which it was to them – so I tried not to grumble too much, but I did just have to try…
‘Am I on the guest list?’
The bouncer, who was built like a brick factory for making shithouses, laughed in a way designed to show me how unfunny that was – like the Master does just after he’s captured Dr Who and been offered a jelly baby.
‘Are you from a record company, darlin’?’
‘Yes!’ I said immediately. Confidence is all. Josh stifled a giggle behind me.
‘Which company is that then?’
‘Ehm … Cross Scot’s Records?’
He bent down and looked me straight in the eye. His one enormous eyebrow cast a shadow underneath his eyes. I tried to stare him out.
‘Really?’
‘Sure. Haven’t you heard our latest number one –’ I cast around for inspiration – “Piss in the Gutter”?’
He clasped an enormous paw on to my shoulder.
‘No. Did you hear my last record, “Blood in the Gutter”?’
‘No,’ I gulped.
‘No, sir,’ I heard from Josh behind me.
‘Well then, fuck off.’
I stared hard at the ground.
‘Can I pay the ten pounds?’
‘You can pay fifteen for cheek.’
‘I’ll get it,’ said Josh rushing in. I squeezed his arm gratefully as he handed over twenty and waved away the change.
‘Thank you for saving me, oh wimpy one,’ I said, once we were safely inside.
‘I only did it because I thought he was going to eat you.’
‘So did I. This is going to be a great evening, I can tell.’
Inside it was boiling hot and absolutely heaving with people in weird trendy gear who looked much younger and immeasurably more self-confident than I did. I sighed. I was clearly missing the gene that made me want to hang about in places where the walls were wet with condensation. Right now I would kill to sit down.
Josh was fighting his way through the crowds to get to the bar, and the teenagers behind him were pointing and giggling at him as he went. After about six hours he returned with three slopping pints of watery lager in plastic glasses, and an extremely pained expression on his face.
‘Well, it’s not Harry’s Bar,’ was the only thing he said, sipping his pint with as much dignity as he could muster as we stood out like three banjos at a funeral.
‘God, here’s to not being students any more,’ said Kate. ‘They have to come here.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ said Josh. ‘That round cost me eight sixty.’
‘Yes, but they put on added tie tax for you,’ I said.
‘This had better be the Beatles at the Cavern Club,’ said Kate morosely.
‘More like The Roaring Boys at Guildford Town Hall,’ said Josh.
‘Who?’
‘Exactly. 1986. They were shit. And I tell you, it wasn’t three pounds a pint, either.’
I looked around faintly anxiously for Finn. I wasn’t going to get panicky quite yet, but I smoothed down my shirt and was vaguely conscious that my hands were sweaty.
‘I’m going to give it five minutes, then I’m going home,’ said Kate.
‘You can’t! You can’t leave me! You paid ten pounds!’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Josh.
‘But you paid thirty!’
In front of us, a bald bloke with enormous Doc Martens and braces slipped up on a pool of beer and what might have been sick, and fell on his arse. Instead of leaping up, he sat there, howling with laughter, as all his mates pointed at him and screamed, as if he’d just pulled off a spectacular comic coup.
‘I’d pay a hundred to get out,’ said Josh.
I glanced nervously towards the door again. The enormous bloke happened to be looking in at the same time. He caught my eye and sneered at me.
‘You might have to,’ I said.
Josh followed my gaze. ‘I’m not scared of him.’
‘Ehm … yes you are.’
‘You didn’t let me finish: I’m not scared of him more than I’m scared of everyone else in here.’
We huddled together for safety. The band were showing no sign of starting, and there were people wandering all over the stage and knocking into the drum kit. I hadn’t seen Chali at all. I had a sudden premonition of a really terrible evening ahead and me being blamed for everything – whether we stayed or went.
Suddenly, stumbling slightly as he entered, Finn appeared. My overwhelming relief at seeing his handsome face was tempered with the fact that I wished he wasn’t wearing a duffel coat and carrying a large satchel. It was like going on a date with Tucker Jenkins, without the raw sex appeal.
‘Hello,’ he said, forcing his way through the throng with the satchel. Then he was standing in front of me, pink-cheeked and messy-looking, his black curly hair all over the place.
‘Hello,’ I said, suddenly shy. It seemed for a second as though he was going to kiss me on the cheek, and he kind of leaned forward, and I jerked backwards at the wrong moment and hit my nose on his glasses.
Kate started to giggle.
‘Hello, Finn.’
He turned to see her with her little tight trousers on.
‘Oh, hello – you look, ehm, nice.’
‘I don’t sleep at the office you know.’
‘Yes, well, OK,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want my date walking in and flirting with my flatmate, if that was all right with everyone.
‘You look nice, too,’ he said to me instantly. ‘Here, I brought you these.’
He opened his satchel and brought out a box of chocolates. I stared at him in amazement.
‘Well, if it’s going to be a “proper” date,’ he said, apologetically, and pushed them into my hands.
‘Chocks! Top hole!’ said Josh. ‘I mean, ehm, wicked!’
I stood there in the crowded pub, holding the slightly battered box. ‘Thank you. But, you know, where’s my corsage?’
‘Aha,’ he said, and reached into his satchel again, fishing out a tiny sprig of heather wrapped in tinfoil.
‘Some mad old Scottish woman outside wouldn’t leave me alone.’
‘Sounds like’, whispered Josh to me, ‘the mad old Scottish woman knew a good thing when she saw it.’
I slapped him away like a fly, and let Finn stick the heather in my buttonhole. Then we stared at each other again, grinning like idiots. I was ridiculously chuffed.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I finally asked him.
‘Let the lady buy a drink on our first date? Of course not!’
‘You know this is a “proper” date, not a “sexist” date, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes, I forgot. Let the woman buy a drink on the first date?’
‘Let the man get kneed in the bollocks on the first date?’
‘Pint of bitter?’
‘You’ll be lucky. Warm watery lager?’
‘Mmm, yes, please.’
As I got back from the bar, there was an enormous roar from the other end of the pub, and masses of people swarmed across the room. We followed in their wake, ending up in the crush down one end, where the stage was set up – the stage being about the size of a bath, into which had somehow been crammed a frontman, two big stacks of keyboards, a DJ with turntables and, at the back, Chali – a vision in see-through scarlet (part of me thought ‘I wonder if she knows it’s see-through?’ before mentally hitting myself on the forehead for being an idiot) – and an extremely tall black woman, also in scarlet. They looked fantastic. The two boys on the keyboard and the frontman, however, looked ridiculous. It was impossible to see the DJ, because he had a hat pulled down over his face, but the frontman was wearing a silver suit c/o Martin Fry 1984 and had hugely magnified pores. I glanced at the others, warily, but before anyone had a chance to say anything, the guy in the silver suit leaned over the front of the stage, propped one skinny shank on the speaker and yelled:
‘AAAAAGH! FLAY ME! SLAY ME! DON’T FORGET TO PAY ME! SHOVE ME! LOVE ME! WITH A PLASTIC GLOVE – EE!’
‘Cripes,’ I heard Josh say behind me.
The DJ made some retro scratching noises.
‘BITE ME! FIGHT ME! TRY AND EXTRADITE ME!’
Finn and I nodded in appreciation at his syllable count.
‘USE ME! ABUSE ME! PUT MY FINGERS IN THE SOCKET AND FUSE ME …’
‘Ooh, nasty scan.’
The noise was unbelievable. I could hear my eardrums rattle up and down. I kept an eye on Chali to see when she got to do her bit, but she was languidly dancing as if she was the most pissed-off person in the world – i.e., like a proper backing singer.
‘PRICK ME! LICK ME! YOU CAN TRY AND DICK ME …’
‘Here comes the catchy chorus,’ I predicted to Finn.
‘’COS I HATE MYSELF AND I WANNA DIE/I CUT MYSELF AND I WANNA DIE/I HATE MYSELF AND I WANNA DIE/I’M ALL ALONE AND I WANNA DIE!’
The crashing keyboards rose to a great crescendo.
‘WANNA DIE!’ trilled Chali and the tall girl. ‘WANNA DIE! WANNA DIE!’
Then everything cut off in a big wail of fake feedback. The singer took an elaborate bow.
‘HELLO, KING’S CROSS!’ he shouted ‘IT’S GREAT TO BE HERE!’
The crowd went wild, except for us four, who just stared at him.
‘I don’t think that man wants to die at all,’ said Kate eventually. ‘Which is disappointing, as I, for one, would be very happy to see him dead.’
‘It’s kind of like Nirvana, isn’t it?’ said Finn. ‘If they had never learned to play the guitar and, ehm, were, you know … shit.’
‘Chali’s good, though,’ I said loyally.
‘Yes, she is … I especially liked her “wanna dies”.’
I nodded.
‘Now!’ The singer was still yelling. ‘This is a song about how the state, right, it really tries to grind you down, right. So, just do your own thing, yeh?’
‘I thought so,’ said Josh.
‘No, really, I’m sure those O-levels were quite handy,’ I assured him.
‘No, no, I mean, I thought I recognized him.’
‘What?’
‘He sounded different, of course, but, yes … it’s Bladen-Start all right. I was in his house at school!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, definitely. What was his first name again …? Bladen-Start, Bladen-Start. Oh, yes – Tristram, that’s it.’
‘Really?’ I said again. ‘Fantastic!’
Onstage, Tristram was hollering over a drum and bass back beat:
‘DON’T LISTEN TO WHAT THEY SAY/ IT’S ONLY BULLSHIT ANYWAY/SO GO GET PISSED AND HAVE SOME FUN/DON’T MAKE YOUR BED OR PHONE YOUR MUM …’
The crowd was going crazy.
‘Thick as two short planks,’ yelled Josh. ‘His dad had to practically build a new college to get him into Oxford.’
‘SCHOOL’S FOR WIMPS AND THE CONFORMERS/FUCK ALL STUDENTS AND SIXTH FORMERS/LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE ON THE STREETS/ALL YOU NEED ARE DRUGS AND BEATS!’
‘Yayy,’ shouted the crowd.
‘This sucks demon cock,’ said Kate. I filled her in on what Josh had told me and her eyes gleamed.
‘Go, Tristram!’ she yelled, and burst out laughing.
‘YOU DON’T HAVE TO! YOU DON’T HAVE TO! YOU DON’T HAVE TO! IF YOU DON’T FEEL LIKE IT!’
‘Yeh!’ yelled Chali, elegantly raising her arms.
‘Shall we dance?’ said Finn at my elbow.
‘What??’
‘You know … we’re on a date … Isn’t dancing the law?’
Tristram appeared to be trying to have sex with one of the speakers. The row at the front were hopping up and down trying to grab hold of his legs.
‘OK?’ I said tentatively.
Ceremoniously, Finn led me to the back of the crush. This end of the bar was comparatively quiet, away from all the spitting. Dumping the bags in a nasty pool of something, he bowed, then took me in a traditional dancing pose.
‘What?’ I said. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘Dancing,’ he said, whirling me round.
‘Finn!’
‘You’ll enjoy it more if you stop struggling.’
‘Boys always say that though,’ I yelled at him from the end of his arm, but he paid no notice and twirled me around again. Our pace was about a quarter of the beat that was lashing out from the stage, but fortunately everyone ignored us – they probably thought we were somebody’s parents. I decided to give myself up to the moment and let myself be hurled about. Finn was an unexpectedly good dancer, and I enjoyed the experience of not being self-conscious and worrying about the music – (1) because what was playing wasn’t music, and (2) we were so unhip that to this crowd we were invisible anyway.
‘Where did you learn to dance?’ I asked him breathlessly as he bent me back over his knee to the final chords of Tristram shouting:
‘FUCK! FUCK! AND THEN SOME!’
Finn shrugged.
‘Well, the boys on the football team stomped on my glasses, so my mum signed me up for dancing lessons instead.’
‘And did that help your standing with the boys on the football team?’
He winced at the memory. ‘I think I’m the reason why they took away free glasses on the NHS. I must have gone through five pairs that year alone.’
‘Well, never mind – most of those boys are probably in prison now.’
‘Actually, I keep bumping into them in the City, hollering for bottles of Cristal and slapping waitresses on the arse.’
‘Oh, did you go to private school?’
‘Scholarship.’ He grimaced. ‘Little Jewish scholarship boy. Really, you do get used to it. I wash my hair in the toilet even now.’
‘Were you a boarder?’
‘Yep. Banged up at eight for a ten stretch.’
I squeezed his arm sympathetically.
‘It’s all over now, you’re free to go.’
He smiled. ‘I know. And at least I know how to do THIS!’ Without warning, as Tristram crashed into another song, he flung me over his arms and into a dramatic bent-back pose, and held me there. I looked up at him – he was smiling at me, and his dark hair fell over his eyes. For a very short split second, everything around seemed to go very quiet, and I thought he was going to kiss me. And for a very short split second, even stranger, I found that I wanted him to.
‘Yo ho!’ yelled Josh. ‘You two seem to be having fun. Shall we join in, Skates?’
We straightened up immediately.
‘OK,’ said Kate. ‘Although I’m due in Antwerp at 10 a.m.’
‘Oh, hang on,’ said Josh, wandering off. ‘I want to say hi to Tristram again.’
‘I didn’t want to dance really,’ said Kate. ‘Can I go home now, please?’
The band stopped playing peremptorily.
‘WE’RE TAKING A SHORT BREAK NOW,’ hollered Tristram. ‘BUT I’LL BE OVER BY THE BAR IF ANYONE WANTS TO GIVE ME A BLOW JOB.’ The crowd pissed themselves.
‘UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU’RE AN A&R MAN, WHEREUPON WE’LL SUCK YOURS.’
‘Maybe I won’t go and say hello after all,’ said Josh.
Chali came dashing up to us, with her usual tribe of filthy supplicants in tow.
‘Hey there! I’m so glad you came!’
‘You were fantastic,’ I said. ‘And you look brilliant.’ Which, at least, was true.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘This is Stitches, Cockroach, Wayne and the Weed Boy.’
‘Hey.’ We nodded.
‘These are the guys that had the party,’ she explained to them. One raised his hand in an exhausted fashion.
‘Hey.’
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Chali asked Finn mischievously.
‘Very much so.’ He smiled, looking at me. ‘Thanks for asking us along. You’re singing brilliantly.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Oh, here, have you met Sha?’
Chali’s singing partner had segued up beside her, sipping a tall drink through a straw. Sha raised her eyebrows fractionally at us, which is all you have to do when you look like Naomi Campbell. Then her eyes lingered on Josh, who had just let his floppy blond fringe drop into his beer, and was wiping it out of his eyes with his fingers. She whispered something to Chali, who shrugged her shoulders and beckoned me over.
I was prepared for the question.
‘No, he’s not … probably,’ I whispered to Chali.
‘Wow – how did you …’
Josh was thoughtfully licking his beery finger and holding it up to the wind.
‘… Never mind.’ She shook her head at Sha, who walked straight up to him.
‘Are you hanging around after the gig?’ she purred.
‘What?’ said Josh. ‘Er, no, I don’t think – Ow!’
I glanced away innocently.
‘Ehm, possibly …’
‘Good. Wait for me,’ she said, then turned round and stalked off.
Josh’s eyes were on stalks. ‘Gosh – do you think …? Why do you think she wants me to wait?’
‘She’s probably a lawyer in her spare time and wants you to help with the legwork,’ said Kate snidely.
‘You’ve pulled, mate,’ said Chali.
‘Have I? I mean, do you think …? Gosh!’ said Josh, and lapsed into a happy stupefaction.
‘Oh God, I really am going home,’ said Kate, right in front of Chali. ‘I just can’t take it any more. Sorry, no offence.’
Chali regarded her coolly.
‘Sorry, who are you?’
Finn and I winced at each other, but Kate merely turned the chilly icemaidenometer up to eleven and announced, ‘I’ll just head out into a dangerous area and catch an unlicensed cab on my own then, shall I, Josh?’
Josh stared after her, blinking.
‘What?’
But she was gone.
The second half passed in a blur. Tristram and his band crashed through ‘THEY DESERVE TO DIE’ (a long list, including fox hunters, religious fundamentalists and white people), ‘IF DRUGS KILL, CAN WE FEED THEM TO THE PRIME MINISTER?’ and ‘I’M PROBABLY BISEXUAL, BUT I’LL KNOW FOR CERTAIN WHEN I GET ROUND TO GETTING OFF WITH A BLOKE’.
I barely noticed, however. I was standing close to Finn at the back, enjoying the closeness of us; the hairs on our arms were almost, but not quite, touching. Every so often, a lairy teenager would come crashing into us and send us hurtling into each other. I enjoyed this bit too; we would self-consciously apologize to each other, and hold each other’s gaze a little longer than necessary. My insides were squirming, I could hear my own heart even above the condemned wailing of the band, and I was finding it quite difficult to understand why, after all, this geeky, annoyingly direct chap was having this effect on me. It couldn’t just be because he was a good dancer, could it? I snuck a peek out of the corner of my eye. He was watching the band with an amused expression, but there was an aura of nervousness about him too. I assumed I was the cause of it, but I couldn’t fathom which way – was he desperate to get rid of me, and had a prank instituted by Chali gone too far? Or did he feel the same way I did – nervous but, frankly, desperate for a kiss? And not just any old kiss – a proper, movie-star, blistering yet infinitely tender kiss, the type you reach your face up for so readily, and receive so rarely. I realized suddenly that I was fantasizing about him and had my tongue hanging out like a dog, and shook my head briskly to clear it.
The band rolled off eventually, Tristram head-banging in order to spread his circle of sweat as far as possible, and taking rather more encores than the audience had strictly demanded, including ‘MY LOVE IS A FOETUS’. Finally, however, they were gone, and the audience started to drift away. Josh stayed rooted to the spot.
‘Well?’ I asked him.
‘She said stay here,’ he said rigidly.
‘I’m not sure she meant the exact square centimetre.’
‘You can’t be too careful.’ He thought for a second. ‘I’m desperate for the loo, though.’
‘Do you want Finn to stand there and pretend to be you for a minute while you get to have a wee?’
‘No, thanks, I’ll be fine.’
‘Yes, until you go to kiss her and accidentally wet yourself.’
‘That might happen anyway,’ said Josh, suddenly spotting her sashaying across the floor towards us with a purposeful expression on her face.
‘Shall we go?’ said Finn to me, subtly.
‘Oh! Yes, of course. Bye, darling. We’ll want a full report.’
‘Probably, nothing,’ said Josh, but he held up his fingers, which were tightly crossed.
I crossed mine back at him, and waved at Chali across the room, who was berating her crusty army for something.
‘See you tomorrow!’
She looked over, then laughed.
‘I will be extremely surprised,’ she yelled, ‘if either of us makes it into work tomorrow!’
I twinged with embarrassment.
‘Yes, well, whatever.’
Finn opened the door for me, and the huge doorman recognized me and laughed.
‘You know, I might have guessed you two would end up together when you came in.’
‘Matchmaker, are you?’ I was still cross with him for taking the twenty pounds.
‘Neh – you’re the only two wearing shoes.’
I glanced at my feet. Finn was wearing desert boots, and I had a pair of Startrite sandals for grown-ups on. Everyone else was in neon trainers.
‘You’re very good at your job,’ I said.
He tipped his head to me.
‘Thank you, ma’am. Have a good night now.’
Outside, it had started to rain. Finn shrugged back into his duffel coat, and immediately appeared more prosaic. Then he caught my eye and smiled warmly. My stomach started doing the samba again.
‘Now – dinner!’ he announced. I stared at him.
‘You know it’s quarter past midnight?’
‘No – is it really? I don’t wear a watch,’ he said disappointedly. ‘Time is just so completely irrelevant.’
‘Unless you’re trying to eat in London after midnight.’
‘God, if only Einstein had thought of that. It could have changed everything.’
‘It could have changed us getting food poisoning,’ I said, looking around. There were places open around the railway station, but they were frankly terrifying – unidentifiable kebab shops next to watery hamburger joints, with little tin ashtrays full of an evening’s worth of anxious cigarette butts from prostitutes, drug dealers and runaways – the standard clientele of the King’s Cross cuisine trade. I had been hungry, but one look at these places would put a scabby dog off its dinner. Also, I could have been starving to death, but if there was a possibility of kissing on the agenda later on, then I wasn’t going near the oral hygiene minefield that was a kebab. These things need careful planning.
This may also have occurred to Finn, because we wandered about for a while, unwilling to end the evening, uncertain of what our options were. Finally, thankfully, we stumbled across a late-night coffee shop, and Finn acquired two great mugs of soapy coffee and thin slabs of chocolate biscuit cake and sat down next to me on the tiny moulded plastic chairs.
‘My ears are still ringing,’ I complained.
‘Well, it was worth it just to see the start of a new phenomenon, wasn’t it?’
‘A phenomenal pile of poo.’
‘Oh – I didn’t know you were reviewing it for Time Out.’
I sipped my coffee, looking closely at his hands. They were long and wiry, with long pale fingers. One was holding on to the cup so tightly the handle was in some danger, and the other was drumming nervously on the table top.
‘So, what do you want to do when you grow up, then?’ I asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘After I win the Nobel Prize, I thought I’d become the new Dr Who, and then go into space.’
‘Don’t you get to go into space anyway, if you’re Dr Who?’
‘Whoops, yes, I keep forgetting it’s a documentary.’
‘You’d be a good Dr Who,’ I said. He would; he was the right mix of bright, confused and severely dishevelled.
‘And you can still win the Nobel Prize, can’t you?’
He sighed, and rattled his coffee cup. ‘Not at thirty, I don’t think, unless I come up with something quick. Physicists tend to peak when they’re about twenty.’
‘Wow, just like …’
‘Yes, yes, yes, I have heard it. And I was too busy doing physics to pull … and, of course, I was doing physics, which rather limits your options in the first place.’
‘Never mind,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry: do I sound like the most moany person in the world? I feel like I’ve just been moaning all night.’
‘Well, it’s closer to singing than Tristram was.’
‘What about you? What are you going to be?’
‘Hmm. Film star, I think.’
‘Good choice.’
‘Thank you. Although I’m not looking forward to all the porn I’ll have to make before I get there.’
‘Seriously. Are you a dedicated florist?’
I fiddled with a sugar packet.
‘I don’t know. It’s OK. After my parents split up, neither of their flats had a garden, and I really missed it. This seems about the closest I can get at the moment. And I’d die if I had to work in an office. I couldn’t handle … you know, the low-denier tights.’
He nodded. ‘Why don’t you go and work in gardens then? Or at least, you could go to an evening class.’
I stuck my hands in my ears. ‘Not listening … la la la la la … I know that … la la la la … I am completely pathetic … la la la!’
He smiled, and folded his arms, waiting for me to take my hands down.
‘I’m sorry, but …’
‘La! La la la la!’
‘Or you could …’
‘La la la! La la la la!’
‘OK, OK. Ehm … do you want to go into space?’
‘You asking?’
He smiled again. ‘Well, I’m a bit busy this month.’
‘Oh, yeah, me too. Well, you know how it is.’
‘I think I’ve got a window about 2017, though.’
‘Really? That’s amazing. I’m free that decade too.’
‘Maybe we could go then, then.’
‘Only if I get the window seat.’
‘OK. But no opening the duty-free space dust until we get in to land.’
‘You’re no fun.’
Suddenly, I found myself yawning. It was after one, and the coffee-shop owner was looking at us grumpily over the top of a mop which, judging from the floor, he had no intention of using.
Finn seemed a bit crestfallen. ‘You’re right, I am no fun and am in fact boring you senseless. Can I take you home?’
I waved him away. ‘Don’t be silly, of course you’re not boring me. It’s just late, that’s all. I’ll get a night bus, don’t worry.’
‘A night bus? On our date? I think not.’
He jumped up and stuck his head outside the door and, amazingly, hailed a cab almost immediately.
‘Cab,’ he said, sticking his head back round. There was rain dripping off the front of his glasses.
The mood changed as soon as we stepped into the cab. A man, a woman, in a cab, after a date. There must have been millions of us doing exactly the same thing all over the world at that very moment, with the same nerves and worries going through all of us. All the way back we edged closer and closer together, but remained in almost complete silence. Occasionally, we’d smile nervously at one another. I wasn’t really used to doing this without rather more alcohol in me than there was at the moment, so I was feeling terribly anxious. Finally, the cab pulled up, and Finn turned to me.
‘Ehm … I’ll just ask it to wait.’
Make your mind up time.
‘You could … come in for coffee, if you like,’ I said, staring hard at my hands.
‘More coffee … ehm, great!’ said Finn, paying the driver. I hopped out of the car, mentally checking what pants I had on. As we walked up the path, he reached out and gently took my hand, and I thought my heart was going to leap out of my mouth.
We went up the flight of stairs to the front door – underneath it there was a light on. We both saw it at the same time. And, just as I took out my key, Finn took me by the shoulders, and looked at me quizzically, as if checking everything would be all right. When I assured him with my eyes that it was, he leaned in very slowly and gently, and started to kiss me.
It was an international-standard kiss. Not desperately sexual, like one of those dog-humping-your-leg ones, and not coy either; strong, and sexy and very, very good indeed.
Eventually I pulled away.
‘Your mother didn’t put you in that class at school,’ I said breathlessly.
‘It was a very progressive school,’ he said, adding, ‘No, of course not!’ when he saw my face.
I unlocked the door. ‘Come in,’ I said, taking him by both hands. ‘Please.’
He followed me through the door. And we were gazing so intently at each other that I nearly fell over Addison, who was curled up in a ball by the telephone, silently crying his eyes out.