Past Mortem

by Ben Elton

  ‘Mmmm. Sadly.’

  ‘She fought it. It was amazing how she fought it. Like a tiger, I used to say. When it was diagnosed she said she wouldn’t let it beat her, and she was right, it didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, it didn’t? But that’s great! I misunderstood. I thought she was dead!’

  ‘Yes, she is dead.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘She beat it in spirit.’

  ‘Oh, right, that’s wonderful. Well done her.’

  ‘In the end she just said no to the treatment they were offering her on the NHS and fought it with the power of positive thinking. She gave it a name. She called it Candy, you know, instead of Cancer. She’d say, ‘Oh dear, Candy’s really giving me a hard time today, but I’m not going to let her get me down, I’m going to stand up to her. Candy’s not going to get the better of me, the minx.’’

  ‘And that helped, did it?’

  ‘Immensely. That and diet. Absolutely no dairy, obviously, that goes without saying, and only fruit and vegetables in season. It’s quite impressive, actually, because you can get a lot of good organic stuff in the big supermarkets these days, which has to be a positive development, don’t you think? I’m a member of the Soil Association, you know. Prince Charles is our patron.’

  ‘Look, um, I’ll be right back, but I promised I’d get Christine a drink.’

  ‘Oh, right. I never really spoke to her when we were at school.’

  ‘Hmmm. Right.’ Newson got to the bar, having failed to avoid catching Kieran Beattie’s eye as he stood alone against the far wall.

  ‘Um…two glasses of champagne, please,’ he said. A sweet-looking girl in a Hilton waistcoat reached into an ice bucket and fossicked for a bottle of Moët.

  There was a pop as she opened it and everybody turned to see the flash git ordering champagne.

  ‘Pay well in the police, then, Ed? Ha ha,’ said a man who Newson thought may once have been Roland ‘piss stain’ Cuthbert.

  ‘Ha ha, yeah,’ Newson replied. ‘Gotta do it, eh? Yeah.’

  ‘Piss stain’, if indeed it was he, rewarded Newson with a raised glass. ‘Good work!’ he said. ‘Rock on, Tommy my son!’

  ‘Fifteen pounds, please,’ said the girl in the waistcoat.

  ‘Wow. Seven fifty a glass?’ Newson enquired.

  ‘Yes. It’s champagne.’

  ‘Yes, right, of course.’ He picked up the small flutes and started to make his way back towards Christine.

  ‘Ed? Ed Newson,’ said a woman, whom Newson knew had once been Sheila Keaton, a bookish, swotty sort of girl who had organized knit-ins for Oxfam.

  ‘Hi, Sheila,’ Newson said. ‘Don’t have to look at your tits to remember who you are, ha ha.’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Sheila.

  ‘The name tags,’ Newson said quickly. ‘I find them really embarrassing. It means you spend your time peering at people’s chests; you know, to find out who they are…Except, of course, I knew who you were, and not that I’d have minded anyway…I mean, peering at your chest…Happy to.’

  ‘Oh…good. Well. Any time.’

  ‘Ah, goodoh.’ Newson did not know whether this was a joke or not. He flicked his eyes down comically for a moment before looking up again. ‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Very nice,’ and Sheila laughed loudly.

  ‘Same old Edward Newson. Always made us giggle. You’ve done well, haven’t you?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I’m doing something I enjoy, which is important.’

  ‘Yes, you’re lucky. Not many people can say that they’re doing something they enjoy, can they?’

  ‘Can’t they? I don’t know. Aren’t you enjoying…um.’

  ‘Online travel. I assemble cheap flight packages for Lastminute.com.’

  ‘Oh, great. Well, that sounds interesting, all those exotic places…

  ‘I don’t go to them, I just assemble the packages and we sell them over the net. It could be toilet rolls or frozen peas.’

  ‘Yes…I suppose you’re right, but…Look, I promised this drink to Christine.’

  ‘Ah yes, beautiful Christine, eh? Still gorgeous. Good luck to her, I say. Some girls just have it, don’t they? You got off with her once, didn’t you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I did. Long time ago, though.’

  ‘I remember it happening. Everybody was talking about it and Helen Smart crying in the loos.’

  ‘Was she?’

  ‘Yes, sitting in a cubicle sobbing for ages. I suppose it must have been a shock. We all thought you were an item.’

  ‘Well, we weren’t.’

  ‘We all thought you were.

  Newson excused himself and began again to make his way back to Christine. He did not get far before he was stopped by two extremely well-groomed men who were rather self-consciously holding hands.

  ‘Ed?’

  ‘Hello, Gary. Long time no see.’

  ‘I suppose you could say that to anybody today, couldn’t you? This is Brad. I know we weren’t supposed to bring partners, but I decided sod that. Didn’t we, Brad?’

  Newson sensed that perhaps Brad was not quite as enthusiastic about attending Gary’s grammar school reunion as Gary would have liked him to be.

  ‘I’m glad you came, Gary,’ said Newson.

  ‘I was a bit nervous after what I said on the web, blaming everybody for me getting bullied and all. I feel embarrassed about it now.’

  ‘It was perfectly fair,’ Newson assured him. ‘Yes,’ said Brad. ‘I told him he shouldn’t bother to see any of you bastards ever again.’

  ‘Brad! Behave!’ Gary scolded. ‘He’s more defensive for me than I am. No, really he is. Which is lovely, of course.’

  ‘Brad’s right, we were bastards. And I just want to say, Gary, that I’m sorry I stood by while Roger Jameson bullied you.’

  ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘It isn’t really all right. Bullies only get away with what they do because everyone else ignores it, and I’ve always felt guilty about ignoring what happened to you.

  ‘I never said anything when they called you ‘period head’, though, did I?’

  But Newson knew that it had been different. He had not been a victim and Gary had.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I was really pleased to hear how happy you both are.’

  Finally he found his way back to Christine.

  ‘Coo, a girl could die of thirst,’ she said, taking the glass he offered her. ‘Mmm, just love champers.’

  ‘Sorry, people were saying hello.’

  ‘Of course they were. Everybody’s talking about you, Ed. You’re the class success.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘No, really. You seem to be the only one of us who’s doing anything interesting, apart from me, of course. I mean, let’s face it, being a detective is pretty cool. That arsehole Paul Thorogood was pretending to be all distant and up himself, but I could see he was jealous of you. He used to think he was so great and what is he now?’

  ‘I don’t know. What is he now?’

  ‘A warehouse foreman at Tesco. Can you believe it?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘It’s not very cool, is it, Ed?’

  ‘In my experience, Christine, when you come down to it, very little is.’

  Christine shrieked as if Newson had just said the wittiest thing imaginable. Newson thought her a ridiculous snob, but there could be no doubt that she was paying him a gratifying amount of attention. And she was right, people were certainly treating him differently from the way they’d done at school. On the status market his stock was trading much higher than expected.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Christine. ‘Don’t go away.’ There was a chair behind Christine’s little admin table and she now stood on it, giving every man in the room the opportunity to appreciate the fact that her tanned legs were still slim and attractive and every woman the opportunity to be jealous.

  ‘Ching, ching, ching,’ she said, pretending to tap a glass. ‘H
i, everybody! Christine here! I just wanted to say a few things before we all get too pissed! First of all, it’s just so great to see you all here. Yay! And yah boo sucks to all the boring ones who decided not to come. All right! Now, for all of you who’re attending the concert I’ve got your tickets here and as you know they’re forty pounds each, but I would remind you that I managed to negotiate this room and the staff for free, so thanks for that, Cindy.’ Christine nodded at the girl behind the bar as if she was in charge of the Hilton’s hospitality pricings rather than being one of its wage slaves.

  ‘I should hope the room is free at four pounds a Heineken,’ said a voice from the back.

  ‘Well, that’s fine, Pete,’ Christine replied, ‘but if anyone thinks things could have been better organized then they’re welcome to tell me how.’

  ‘No, no,’ Newson said. ‘You’ve done great, Christine.’ He led a small round of applause and Christine smiled at him prettily.

  ‘Now look, everybody, the thing I really wanted to say was this. Obviously everybody here checks out the Friends Reunited site or else you wouldn’t be here, and so you all know that a few days ago a girl from our year, Helen Smart, posted up a notice and sent a circular email making some very unpleasant allegations against me and some of the other girls.’

  Silence fell in the room. Nobody had expected Christine to tackle this situation so head-on. Newson understood and could not help but admire Christine’s nerve. She’d spent time and effort arranging this reunion, of which she clearly intended to be the star, and at the last minute some half-remembered nobody had tried to spoil it. If she ignored the accusations they would hang over the whole day and therefore ruin it. Somehow the boil had to be lanced and she had the chutzpah to go for it.

  ‘Now, what I wanted to say was this — ’

  The door swung open and Sally Warren appeared with her huge stomach and baby buggy before her. Josh, for the moment, was quiet, having been rendered briefly submissive by the application of sweets and crisps.

  ‘Hi, everybody!’ Sally said as she barged her way in. ‘How are you? This is Josh! Hope you like kids…Oh…’

  Only now did Sally notice Christine. ‘Wow, Christine, you look fantastic! Did I interrupt something?’

  ‘Well, yes, kind of. Hello, Sally.’

  ‘You mean you’ve started without me?’

  ‘Well, I was just — ’

  ‘You said one o’clock in your email, Christine. It’s only twenty past now. You could have given me a chance to get here, you know, at least waited till half past.’

  ‘I just wanted to say a few words, that was all.’

  ‘I have got a kid, you know. It isn’t easy.’

  It was clear to Newson that Sally Warren was a woman on a very short fuse. Hardly surprising, he thought, considering the state she was in and the kind of volume that Josh was capable of generating.

  ‘Why don’t I get you a drink, Sally?’ Newson said. ‘I think Christine just wanted to get something off her chest.’

  There was a general good-humoured ‘Woooaar’ at this from the men in the room. Christine reddened but did not let herself be thrown. Sally thanked Newson and said that she’d have a gin and tonic, and finally Christine was able to continue.

  ‘I was talking about Helen Smart and what she wrote on the internet. What I wanted to say was that it didn’t happen that way and I know that all the other girls will back me up. Yes, Helen could be a bit of a pain and I’m sure we teased her quite badly, which was wrong, but I don’t remember anybody ever actually attacking her, and certainly not with a…well, in the way she says we did. Anyway, as you know, Friends Reunited is self-regulating and so I’ve contacted the organizers and asked them to remove the note from the notice board because I consider it libellous, and they’ve agreed to do so. So that’s it, I’ll say no more about it. We’re all here to celebrate the class of ‘eighty-one to ‘eighty-eight, so I suggest we charge our glasses and drink to our decade, the one we grew up in, the best decade of the last century! The eighties!’

  Everybody cheered and Christine got off her chair. Newson wondered if she believed what she had said about Helen. He thought that she probably did. People who feel guilty will jump through any number of hoops to justify themselves. Perhaps there was even some truth in her protestations of innocence. After all, in his own case Helen certainly thought that he had done her far more harm than he believed he had.

  Just as Newson was about to rejoin Christine a loud voice rang out from the doorway.

  ‘I’d like to say something if I may.’ The voice was deep and the accent pure New Jersey, but there was no doubting who its owner was. The big American standing in the doorway had once been an English schoolboy. Roger Jameson had come to the reunion.

  ‘That’s right, everybody, it’s Roger. Roger Jameson, sometime of New York City Police Department, currently on extended vacation.’ Jameson did not need to stand on a chair to command attention. He was six foot four and his fancy leather boots had heels.

  ‘Now, we all know that Christine isn’t the only person who’s been accused of stuff on our little page of the Friends site. Oh yeah, I copped a whole heap of it too. I’m sure you all know what’s been said and who said it, so I guess there’s no need for me to ask Gary to go repeating it now. Hi, Gary.’

  Newson turned to look at Gary, who had been standing at the front of the group. The years had fallen away and once more Gary was terrified. It was as if he expected Jameson to pull out a ruler and start prodding him again right where he had left off more than twenty years earlier.

  ‘I don’t know what happened between Christine and this Helen Smart girl, to tell you the truth I ain’t even sure I can remember who Miss Smart was. But I do know about what happened between me and Gary here and also who else was involved. I see Kieran Beattie there. How’s it going, Eatie? And one or two of you other guys too. Hi, Pete. Remember us getting puke drunk that time on stolen Scotch? Jeez, we felt bad, huh? Anyway. I guess what me and you boys all know is that every word of what Gary Whitfield wrote about us tormenting him is true and more besides, and what I want to say is that I’ve come here today to ask Gary Whitfield’s forgiveness. I did what I did and I can never undo it, and I will feel the guilt of it until the end of my days. Like I say, I became a cop and in the course of my duties on the streets of New York City I’ve come to recognize what it feels like to be a victim. What it feels like to live in fear of the violence of people to whom you mean nothing. I know the fear Gary suffered and I am ashamed. I was a shitty, heartless bastard, Gary Whitfield. And I do not deserve your forgiveness, but that is what I’m asking for. If you can’t find it in your heart to grant it to me, just say the word and I’ll leave right now so you can get on with your party in peace. But if you can forgive me, then I’d like to stay and share a drink with you.’ There was a moment’s pause before Gary stepped- forward with tears in his eyes, reached up and hugged the big New Yorker.

  ‘Thank you, Roger,’ he said. ‘Now I think we both have closure.’

  Clapping and cheering broke out around the room.

  ‘Let me buy this man a drink!’ Roger Jameson shouted. ‘Hell, I don’t care if the dollar’s gone through the floor. Let me buy everyone a drink!’ He put his arm around Gary and Gary’s partner, and together they all headed across the room to the bar. Christine hit the music. She had arranged for the hotel to put a stereo in the room and had brought along some eighties compilation albums. Whatever faults there may have been with her memory, there was no denying that she was a superb organizer.

  ‘These are Friends Reunited albums,’ Christine explained. ‘They do their own compilations. Isn’t that great? I’ve got all our years.’

  Suddenly the little room was jumping. It was partly the music and partly the booze, but there was no doubt that the real catalyst had been Roger Jameson and his extraordinary mea culpa. Until his arrival Newson had felt only tension in the room, a group of virtual strangers all concerned for their own fragile egos
, anxious not to be thought sad, anxious not to be left leaning against a wall talking to Eatie Beattie, all vaguely and uncomfortably aware that their very presence at a gathering of this kind might indicate inadequacy. Might mean that things had been better for them before they had had the chance to screw up their lives. Jameson had changed all that. He had created an event, a positive and empowering moment in the present. They had all somehow moved on. The day was no longer simply about nostalgia, it was about closure and a better future, which meant that they were now safe to wallow in the past freed from the secret fear that it was all that they had left.

  ‘That was some speech,’ Newson said to Jameson when they bumped into each other on the way back from the toilets.

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Good to see you, Spewsome. We were pretty good pals for a while back then, weren’t we?’

  ‘I was scared of you, Roger.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I think what you said to Gary did for us all. It was very brave. Very generous.’

  ‘Nah, it wasn’t generous, it was selfish. I needed to get through that for myself. Gary was the generous one to accept my apology the way he did.’

  ‘He’d have ruined the party if he hadn’t.’

  The two men did not return immediately, lingering instead in the corridor together. Jameson lit up a Marlboro from a softpack of reds.

  ‘Wow, you really have turned into an American,’ Newson said. ‘They’ll tell you to put it out, of course.’

  ‘When they do I will. I don’t want no trouble with the English authorities. Hell, I guess the English authorities is you, isn’t it, Ed? A detective inspector, no shit, that’s like a chief for us. I never got up offa pounding the sidewalk.’

  ‘Ali, but you’re an American cop. You see, to us that makes you cooler and better whatever the rank.’

  Jameson laughed; ‘Was an American cop. I ain’t actually left yet, but I very much doubt I’ll ever get back into service…There’s issues, you see.’ Newson sensed that Jameson had more to get off his chest than the speech he had made about Gary Whitfield. ‘Do you ever get like conflict of interests and loyalties at work, Ed? Like times when you know you should do one thing but you do the opposite because of other cops on the team or whatever?’