But maybe if you’ve been following this blog since the start you might have guessed.
I was sitting on the bus this morning thinking about it all. There’d been some accident up ahead, somewhere – ambulance, police, someone on a motorbike, I think, the awful rubberneckers craning to catch a glimpse of whatever. I’d been slowly coming to the conclusion that I should stop hankering after moments that have gone and start using the ones that are here.
Is that what you’d say? ‘Using’ them? It sounds weird but I don’t know what else to put.
On that note, a man tried to pick me up today by sitting very close to me on the bus and accidentally brushing his hand against mine so that he could apologise and then say, ‘Wow, did you feel that? The electricity!’ but maybe it’s a testament to my current state of mind that my first thought was, ‘I hope I don’t get a rash.’
I think the face I made must have made him stop short of his next conversational gambit because then he kept himself to himself and weirdly I felt a bit sad about that.
So I’ve had another chat with HR, about the idea. Apparently there are ‘ways and means’. Mum always praises my practical side; it was Dad who liked the risks I took. But with the year I’ve had … with Dad, with ‘him’ …
I hold I no grudges against ‘him’, by the way. Because really, now that I think about it, maybe it’s made me stronger. I wouldn’t now be wondering whether I should do something, or get out there, without having the year I’d never have chosen.
You can buckle, in life, I think, or you can bend.
I thought about my camera again this morning as I got off the bus near Charlotte Street. Would I have developed that film or those memories? Yes. In a moment of weakness. But I like to think maybe I’d have been strong and made the choice not to.
It’s the year of choosing for myself. But: will I?
Maybe I’m just in a weekend vibe, but if I do, I promise to be far more open with you. Yeah? You deserve that. And I’ll share one embarrassing secret as penance for my secrecy in a selfless act of friendship towards you.
I might even tell you my name.
Sx
TWENTY-FOUR
Or ‘Children Go Where I Send Thee’
The weekend was over and I was weighed down by books as I trudged down the corridor towards room 3Gc again. There was the odd snigger as I did.
‘Oi, sir, you makin’ it happen?’ called out Trey Stoddard.
‘Piss off!’ I said, because I’m a supply teacher, and no one told me I couldn’t.
Trey slapped his hand to his thigh and laughed, then ran off to tell his mates.
‘Jason,’ said a voice behind me, scuttling closer. It was Mrs Woollacombe. ‘Laura’s looking for you.’
Laura? Mrs Abercrombie? What for? To offer me more work? Or to tell me my work here was done? I had a contract with St John’s, but there’d never been any hint that it was rolling. I sighed to myself. If the work here dried up, it’d be other inner city schools for me, other faces, longer journeys, shorter nights.
‘I’ll pop in to see her at break,’ I said.
The kids were being good today. I liked to think maybe I’d calmed them with my wisdom during that assembly, but more likely, they were knackered from PE. They were attentive, though, and when I asked them to open their books, they did so without protest or sigh, and now we sat quietly, and I listened to them read.
Then, without warning and out of nowhere, some noise outside. I jolted, quickly recomposed.
It had been loud and fast. A car backfire, maybe, or bin lid slamming, or some other kind of crack or bang. A couple of kids looked outside, stretched their necks to look up or down the street, but my eyes were scanning the windows of the estate.
Nothing.
I looked back at the class, who were already back in their books.
I got back to work, too.
‘Basically, you were a hit,’ said Mrs Abercrombie. ‘A huge, massive hit. So well done and thank you.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said, genuinely confused.
Perhaps the kids had had a vote and decided I was terrific.
‘The inspector,’ she said. ‘Loved your assembly. Said you were inspirational. Said you had a keen grasp on the language of the kids, and you used it to motivate. Said she was impressed you’d put the time in, that most people would have just printed something off the Internet and read it out.’
‘Well, I mean, it sort of started that way, but I added to it, you know. Put in some personal experience. Made it a bit anecdotal.’
‘Mr Cole just used to do his about Arsenal.’
‘I heard.’
‘I should thank Mr Willis, too. He said it was his idea to get you to do it.’
‘Oh.’
‘And Deepa Dristi, you know her?’
I nodded. She was the senior student.
‘She told the inspector that moments like that gave her hope.’
Bloody hell. I knew how she’d have done it, too. With doe-eyed drama. She was always on about auditioning for Hollyoaks if university didn’t work out. She’d have made me look good, albeit in a Hollyoaks way.
‘Tanya Myers is the inspector’s name. She wanted to mention to you that there is actually an actor who shares your name.’
‘Is there? I had no idea.’
‘And she wanted to speak to you afterwards but you’d gone …’
‘Well, my best mate got run over.’
‘Oh,’ said Mrs Abercrombie. She hadn’t been expecting that. To be fair, I should probably have been a little more gentle, but all this was a bit surprising. She was probably wondering how to deal with it.
‘Anyway,’ she said, which was as good a way as any, ‘give her a call, please.’
She handed me a card.
A few nights later, outside the Den, the traffic swooshed through a wet and dismal Cally. A few kids were leaning over one of the balconies of the council flats opposite, trying to catch the rain in cupped hands to flick at their mates.
Pamela had wheeled Dev down so that we could say our own little goodbye to Power Up! It felt right. Dev made a roll-up, pressed against the side of the pub for protection, and looked at me.
‘I’m know we’re not here to say sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘But sorry. I just wanted the shop to keep going because I thought it was my dream, but one day I looked at it, and I realised that you can adapt what you want, you know? I should’ve told you, but I was just thinking about myself, and I thought, Well, whatever happens, we’ll just go somewhere else. But that was stupid and selfish. I sort of forgot it was your home. I felt like a parent or something, making sure their kid didn’t worry at night.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I needed a kick up the arse. I needed to move on. I probably never would’ve otherwise. We’d have been flatmates for ever.’
‘That would’ve been nice.’
‘That would’ve been weird.’
‘No, but … the other stuff I said, too. The stuff about The Girl—’
‘Shona?’
He looked blank.
‘What’s that mean? What’s Shona mean?’
‘Shona is a Scottish form of Joan,’ I said, ‘and also the name of a people and a language of Zimbabwe. But go on. What about The Girl?’
‘Well, I’m just saying, I was a bit thoughtless when I … hang on, what are you saying, with this Shona stuff?’
‘Her name is Shona.’
I raised my eyebrows, nodded, shrugged. It took him a second, but then he broke into a huge, Dev-smile, and tried to slap me on the shoulder, though that was fairly hard from a wheelchair.
‘You found out her name? How did you find out her name?’
‘And guess what she drives.’
‘No!’ he said, in disbelief.
‘I actually saw it one night, on Poland Street.’
‘You saw her?! Dude, that’s fate again!’
I laughed.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ I said.
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��No! Jase! Come on! Look at the evidence!’
‘Dev,’ I said. ‘I think what I should do is work on what I already have. Not chase what I don’t. That’s what I want to make happen. Does that make sense?’
He thought about it. I know he wanted to talk about it more, chase me to act. But I also know we’d turned a corner.
‘We should go,’ I said. ‘We’ll be late.’
We could see the chalkboard sign outside the Old Queen’s Head the second we turned the corner.
Live Music Tonight.
Abbey Grant.
And underneath it: ‘One to watch’ – Brighton Argus.
Nice one, Abbey.
Matt had cleared everything with his boss, Jerry, but it was a Thursday and Matt was panicked.
‘He only let me do it because it’s a Thursday and Thursdays are quiet … everyone goes to Brown’s down the road. I got a PA from college and lights and that but what if nobody comes?’
But they came. I’d made sure they’d come. I’d called, I’d texted, I’d harassed the hell out of Facebook. I was a gig promoter for one night only.
Me and Dev, of course, joining Pamela and a couple of her mates at a table in the corner.
Then Pawel, and Tomasz, and Marcin with the ankles.
Zoe came down, with an, ‘At last I can see if she’s worth the five stars!’, followed by Clem, and Jo, and Sam. They’d just found out London Now would be shut down at the end of the month. But they’d be given assurances, could coast for a few weeks, been promised other jobs within the company.
‘A pretty good deal, really,’ said Clem. ‘Little holiday.’
‘How’s the comedy?’ I asked.
‘I’m knocking it on the head,’ he said. ‘There was an incident to do with what I perceived as a heinous conspiracy within the judging panel at the “Ha-hamageddon” New Act of the Year competition.’
I didn’t ask.
And then: the kicker.
Through the door, holding hands: Sarah and Gary.
‘I can’t believe you came,’ I said.
‘I wasn’t going to,’ said Sarah, and I noticed Gary squeezing her hand. ‘We weren’t going to. But then I realised: all our meetings have been pretty high pressure. You know? Like we’re always trying to say the unsaid. Just thought it’d be nice to do something … normal. See a gig, or something. Like friends. And you seem pretty sold on this girl, from the sheer volume of reminders you sent everyone. Who is she?’
She’d made me wait, had Sarah. Left it a day or two. I knew she was always online. I knew she’d have got the alert as soon as it had been sent.
Jason Priestley has sent you a friend request …
And then she’d said yes. Forgiveness in a click.
‘Hello, buddy,’ said Gary, coldly, and I snapped out of it. ‘Nice little stunt you pulled.’
‘Gary, I …’
‘No, no, I get it, I get it. Student japes. You wanted to liven up a square party. I get it. Are you on drugs now?’
‘I am not on drugs. I am never on drugs.’
‘This better not be psychedelic music tonight.’
‘It’s not, I promise. Look, let me get you a drink.’
‘Orange juice for me,’ said Sarah, and I looked at her bump, and I felt so happy for her in that moment in a way that months before I just could not have been.
‘Absolutely,’ I said, and I went to the bar.
‘Well, this is awkward,’ said Zoe, staring at her drink. ‘I should go.’
‘Don’t go,’ I said. ‘What happened was my fault. Sarah knows that. And she knows you’ve helped me out, helped me get back on my feet. She thinks everything happens for a reason, and—’
And quickly – far too quickly – Sarah was there.
‘I can guess what you two are probably talking about,’ she said. ‘I knew you’d be here, Zoe.’
‘Hi, Sarah. Look, I can go, and—’
‘I don’t blame you for what happened. I wish life didn’t happen the way it happens sometimes, but we’re adults, and I’m pregnant and about to get married and I’m just exactly where I want to be. So let’s all just act like the world is a wonderful place, even if it’s just for one night. Because I’m in a good place now. And it’s a really good one.’
And I looked at Sarah, and I wondered if I would ever be as grown-up or practical as her.
The applause for Abbey when she walked out was rapturous.
From nearly everyone.
‘Are you kidding me?’ asked Sarah, her face like thunder, leaning over to me as Gary looked on aghast. ‘Are you kidding me!? Her!?’
I’d made sure Abbey would have a room full of friends, whether she knew them all or not. It was like we’d all decided in that moment that she belonged to us. I’d sort of forgotten in my enthusiasm that perhaps Sarah and Gary might remember her with something other than fondness.
‘Look, hey, that wasn’t her fault, that was mine,’ I whispered, urgently. ‘Let’s all just act like the world is a wonderful place, and …’
But Abbey did the rest for me.
‘I would’ve dedicated this first song to someone who means a lot to me, despite my meddling. I mean, he meddles as well. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be standing here if he didn’t, but I meddle the most. And with that in mind, I think it would actually be better if I dedicated it to a very lovely and lucky couple who are getting married soon, and whose engagement party I managed to solely and royally fuck up. It’s about true love, and not pressing charges.’
And she started to play. And a few minutes later, I looked over, and Gary was stroking Sarah’s bump, and she was squeezing his hand.
Later, I found myself at the head of a long table at the Talk of India.
Dev was on the other side, barking orders at the waiters in Urdu like he’d spent his whole life barking orders, as Pamela looked on, proud. Turns out as a shop manager, Dev is lost. But as a people manager, he is, to put it kindly, unusually proactive.
I cast my eye around the room.
Pawel was stuffing his face, Abbey and Matt were clinking glasses, and I broke bread with Sarah and Gary. Just as they’d wanted. As friends, on a normal night out.
‘You must be excited,’ I said. ‘Wedding next week.’
‘Yeah, about that,’ said Sarah, and Gary rubbed her back, gently, adoringly. ‘Are you still free?’
Oh.
‘I’m … yes, I’m—’
‘Because if you’re free you should come. It’s been hard, this year, with you. But I think you should come because if you don’t it’ll be like a full stop. An end to things. And let’s not make it a full stop. Let’s make it … a comma.’
‘Or an ellipsis,’ said Gary, enjoying the word. ‘How are you with that, Gary?’
‘Not particularly overjoyed,’ he said. ‘I had to buy all new carpets for the footwells, as you know. But I take Sarah’s point. No sense running away. Things change. People change.’
He made a wise face. I’d actually never heard that said in real life before.
‘And also,’ said Sarah, sensing what I was thinking and managing not to giggle. ‘Look, I know it’s been hard, watching me get on with things. And I said some harsh stuff to you. Which I meant. Totally meant. And which I stand by!’
I smiled.
‘But which I regret. You know, that stuff about the keywords to your life.’
‘Oh, yeah!’ I said. ‘Tap failure, regret, selfishness and arrogance into Google and you’ll find me!’
She smiled, embarrassed.
‘I don’t—’
‘I’ll be there,’ I said.
‘Good!’ said Sarah, grateful to be moving on. ‘If nothing else, you’ll be able to watch a disaster even greater than the engagement party.’
I laughed.
‘I’m not joking,’ she said. ‘Our wedding band has cancelled.’
‘Abba-solutely,’ said Gary. ‘They got a gig on a cruise ship.’
‘Add to that our caterers see
med to be under the impression we were getting married next year, not next week.’
‘Not guilty!’ said Gary. ‘I’ll take the former, but not the latter. That one’s Anna’s.’
I slapped the table with joy.
‘Anna messed up?’
Oh, this was terrific! Even Gary gave me a knowing glance.
‘Anyway, I have it in hand,’ he said.
‘We’re not using Greggs,’ said Sarah. ‘I am not having my wedding catered by Greggs.’
‘It’s good grub!’
Over their shoulder, as they bickered, I noticed Dev smiling at me. He raised his glass to me, and I nodded and looked back at Sarah.
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I know you’ve no reason to, but do you think you could trust me just one last time?’
‘So have you recorded your stuff?’ asked Matt, as I walked back into the restaurant. I’d been outside, on my phone, making a few enquiries. Pretty much everyone had gone by now, though Pawel was still wordlessly munching his way through the leftover naan.
‘Just, you know, in my bedroom,’ said Abbey, one hand on her glass, the other brushing her fringe from her eyes.
‘I’m off, guys,’ I said, but it was like I hadn’t said anything at all.
‘Only I’m doing a course. And, like, we need to find people to record for our final project.’
‘Oh.’
‘So, like, if you need a producer, I’m here,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’ve only just started, but—’ He was blushing.
‘I’ll see you soon, yeah?’ I said.
‘We’ve got studios and that,’ said Matt. ‘We could get other musicians in. Or it could be just you and your guitar.’
‘I’d love that,’ said Abbey. ‘Yes.’
I made a little coughing sound, like they do on TV programmes or in films, to subtly make myself known.
‘Like, a natural sound. Not forced. So you can hear the room, if you know what I mean. Like tonight.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, excited, ‘Because the room is part of it. The whole world is!’
And I smiled, and left them to talk, and I was pleased as I saw that they hardly even noticed me leave.
And this might have been the end of the story: me, walking out of a restaurant, having made up with Sarah, having come up with a plan to really help them out, having watched my friend Dev – a hero! – take control of a new business and maybe even a new life, Matt and Abbey not knowing they were just hours away from a kiss, surrounded by friends I’d helped and who I knew for certain would always help me. In control of things. Concentrating on what I had, not chasing what I didn’t.
Charlotte Street Page 33