London Noir - [Anthology]

by Edited by Maxim Jakubowski

  She said, ‘You’ll fall over and make a fool of yourself. You always do something silly. I could be a better Josie Farraday than you could.’

  I said, ‘But you’re fair.’

  She said, ‘I’m blonde actually. I could dye my hair.’

  ‘You’re too short.’

  ‘I’m petite. I could wear high heels.’ And Caro stood on her toes to bring herself up to Josie Farraday’s height - my height - and she tiptoed across Cleaver Square trying to look like Josie Farraday.

  I said, ‘Don’t, stupid! Josie’s mum’s looking at you out of the window.’ She wasn’t, but I wanted to shut Caro up, and immediately she put on a sorrowful expression and started to walk properly.

  There were three reporters outside Mrs Farraday’s door.

  Caro said, ‘Don’t stare.’ Then she said, ‘Shall I tell them you’re going to be the new improved Josie Farraday? Shall I?’

  ‘Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you.’

  ‘Shall I tell Mrs Farraday? Maybe she’ll have you in for tea. Maybe she’ll put you to bed in Josie’s bed, and never let you out again. She’ll cry and slobber all over you. And she’ll say, “Here’s my little girl back from the grave. I’ll never let you out of my sight again.’”

  I said, ‘Shut up, Caro. You can be so immature - it’s unbelievable.’ And I walked off quickly.

  The Farradays have a pink front door with a brass door knocker like a dolphin.

  At night, even with all the TV lights, the door looks grey and the brass knocker looks like iron and the dolphin looks like a shark. In fact, it’s worse with the TV lights, because although the light bits are bright and clear, the dark bits go solid black. They disappear altogether.

  The shadows from the trees are so black they look like great long cracks in the paving. You could imagine walking into one, falling and tumbling like a diver, all the way down to the core of the earth.

  I stand with my back to the TV van. The lady policeman gave me some hot chocolate in a plastic cup. It burned my hands, but my feet are cold.

  She said, ‘Don’t be nervous.’ And she went away.

  I’m not nervous, or I wasn’t before I saw Mrs Farraday.

  My mum said, ‘Oh dear, there’s Mrs Farraday.’

  I said, ‘Pretend you haven’t seen her.’

  But Mum said, ‘I can’t. I’ll have to go and talk to her, poor thing.’

  I said, ‘Don’t go. You can’t leave me by myself.’ But she went. She never thinks how I feel.

  So I stood all alone with everyone watching, like the first time I went to a school disco and none of the boys asked me to dance.

  Caro said, ‘Come and dance with us.’ But I wouldn’t. It looks stupid, two girls dancing with one boy.

  Caro said, ‘She’s too stuck-up to dance with us. She’d rather be a wallflower.’

  I said, ‘What’s a wallflower?’ I was only eleven then.

  But I would have danced if a boy asked me to. Most of the boys stood around jeering and didn’t ask anyone to dance. It wasn’t just me.

  It was just me who stood by the TV van, though. Nobody came to talk to me. The police and the TV people were busy. Everyone else was outside the police cordon, outside the light. I could just see them. A lot of the girls from school were there. But none of them said anything to me. It was as if I really was Josie Farraday. Everyone could see me but I didn’t exist. Like I was Josie Farraday’s ghost.

  And then this really excruciating thing happened. Mum brought Mrs Farraday over. How could she?

  Mrs Farraday was crying, just like Caro said she would.

  Mrs Farraday said, ‘I wanted to thank you. It’s so kind of you to do this for Josephine.’

  I looked at Josie’s horrible black shoes because I didn’t want to see her mother’s crying face. I wished she’d go away. She was spoiling everything.

  And Mum said, ‘It’s the least we could do. We were all so terribly sorry.’

  I don’t know why she said that. She never said she was sorry before. She just kept walking round the house saying, ‘My God. Oh my God.’ But she never cried or anything, like you do when you’re sorry. She didn’t know Josie Farraday because Josie never came to my house.

  Mrs Farraday said, ‘Josephine told me about you. She said you always got good marks in History and English.’ And that was a big surprise. I never knew Josie cared any more about me than I cared about Josie.

  Then Mrs Farraday said, ‘This must be awfully upsetting for you. I’m so very sorry.’ And she walked away.

  Mum said, ‘What’s the matter with you? Why didn’t you say something?’ Her voice sort of slithered like a snake. She does that when she’s angry. She ran off after Mrs Farraday.

  It’s her own fault, bringing Mrs Farraday over. What did she want? Seeing people cry always makes me want to cry too, even if I’m not upset. And I’m not upset. I’m going to be on TV. This is the best day of my life.

  Then I thought, maybe I ought to look upset for TV. Like you always have to look serious in school assembly. And when the Head stood up after the Lord’s Prayer and said, ‘Now, I’m afraid I have some tragic news for you all . . .’You could see everyone standing straighter and arranging their faces. But you just knew they were dying of excitement and curiosity.

  That afternoon we were all given envelopes to take home to our parents. And a teacher came to stand at the gate. Another stood at the entrance to the park.

  Caro said it was too little too late, and now all they wanted to do was to stop us talking to reporters. But she still managed to say that thing about all of us missing Josie Farraday. Then we dashed across Kennington Park Road to the newsagent to buy the Evening Standard. Because although the Head told us Josie was murdered we still didn’t know what we wanted to know about it - when, where and how. And why? That’s when we saw the headline - ‘Schoolgirl Killed in Brutal Sex Attack’. We saw that in the shop. I wanted to giggle. Because of the ‘Sex’ word.

  So we rushed out of the shop, and I said, ‘What’s a sex attack? I mean what is it really?’

  And Caro said, ‘Shut up. I’m reading.’

  So I read too, but the more I read the more mysterious it became. Of course I know what an attack is. And of course I know what sex is - we did reproduction in biology last year, and anyway you see it all the time on TV. People kissing and rolling around on beds undressed. And you see sex attacks on TV too - girls in beautiful clothes being dragged into bushes screaming before the man comes and saves them. The man is strong and beautiful, and he says something like, ‘Don’t worry. I’m here. Everything’s going to be all right.’ He has blue eyes and dark straight eyebrows.

  But sometimes the man doesn’t save the beautiful girl, and then you see a body and lots of blood, but the girl still looks beautiful, and it seems to me that sex only happens to pretty girls on TV. It doesn’t happen to plain girls like Josie in the borough of Lambeth at six o’clock at night in the middle of January.

  It’s very annoying. If only Josie had been prettier. I could feel sorrier for her if she’d been pretty. And I wouldn’t have to stand here with my hair parted in the middle and no styling mousse. I wouldn’t have to look like a freak and a frump for my first TV appearance. It’s very annoying, not being allowed to be pretty on TV.

  Even Mum thinks so. She came back from talking to Mrs Farraday and said, ‘Oh dear, your hair. Well, never mind, at least it’s clean.’

  I said, ‘I wish they’d let me wear some make-up.’

  And she said, ‘Josephine didn’t wear any. Besides you know I don’t like you in make-up. You’re too young.’

  A lot she knows. Even girls in the lower third wear make-up. But Mum is always trying to spoil things for me.

  Then she said, ‘Listen dear, the man from London Tonight wants a word with you.’

  I was so excited I couldn’t speak. So she said, ‘For goodness sake behave yourself and be sensible. Stand up straight. Take your hands out of your pockets. Stop looking at your feet.
Just answer his questions quietly and politely. Don’t squirm and look sullen like you did with poor Mrs Farraday. That was very rude and unkind. It’s not like you to be unkind.’

  I took my hands out of my pockets - out of Josie’s pockets - but they dangled by my sides and felt lost. I was looking at the man from London Tonight. I hoped he wouldn’t shake my hand, because I knew it was clammy. I wiped it on the back of the ugly blue skirt.

  The man from London Tonight is very good-looking even if he’s rather old. He’s tall and he’s got a lovely tan. His eyes are blue and his eyebrows are straight.

  When he came over to me, he smiled and looked into my eyes. And even though I couldn’t breathe I found myself smiling back. I couldn’t believe I was actually with him. He is so tall, and his eyes are so blue, no wonder he fills the screen when he’s on TV. You can’t look at anyone else.

  He said, ‘You have agreed to help out with tonight’s police reconstruction. You must be a little bit nervous.’

  Why does everyone say that? I didn’t want him to say what everyone else said. I wanted him to look into my soul and say something different. Just to me. I waited, but he said, ‘You must be just a little bit apprehensive.’

  So I said, ‘I am a little bit.’ Because that seemed to be what he wanted.

  Then he said, ‘It must have been an awful shock for you and the other girls at your school to hear about Josie Farraday,’ and he looked at me like he wanted some more.

  So I said, ‘We were all very sad. Josie Farraday never did anyone any harm.’ But I still couldn’t breathe properly, and I knew I was blushing. All I could think of to say was what Caro said to the reporters.

  He said, ‘So now you are helping the police track down your friend’s killer.’

  And I said, ‘Well, it was the least I could do.’ Which is exactly what my mum said to Mrs Farraday.

  Then he said, ‘I know the police are anxious to begin, and we don’t want to keep them waiting. So thank you very much for talking to us tonight.’

  And he turned away and started to say something else into the camera.

  My mum pulled me back, away from the TV van.

  I was ever so upset. It was my big moment and I couldn’t find my own words to talk with. And my hands had crept back into my pockets - Josie’s pockets - of their own accord.

  Mum said, ‘You were fine, dear. But I do wish you hadn’t grinned at him like that. Anyone might have thought you were enjoying yourself.’

  But I was thinking, ‘Is that all? Is that all there is?’ I thought it was going to be wonderful and special. But it wasn’t. And the man from London Tonight talked as if it was just another item of news. Not as if it was special and I was special.

  The lady policeman came over and said, ‘We’ll be ready to go in five minutes. Now, you know what to do, don’t you?’

  My mum said yes, I knew what to do.

  The lady policeman said, ‘Right, good, because we’ve been over the route, haven’t we? So all you have to do is follow it, not too fast, and do what we know Josie did. All right?’

  My mum said it was all right.

  So the lady policeman said, ‘Don’t be nervous. We’ll all be close by. But don’t look at us and don’t look at the cameras. Pretend you’re out on your own.’

  And Mum said thank you very much.

  Then, when we were standing by ourselves again, she said, ‘You know, what I don’t understand is, why did Josephine go the long way round? If she was going to her friend in Methley Street, why did she leave the square by the art school? Why didn’t she go up Bowden Street?’

  My mum doesn’t understand anything. I know why Josie Farraday went the long way round. It’s because she didn’t want to walk past Broadgate Estate. None of us likes walking past Broadgate Estate because the white boys shout at us, and the black boys stare at us. The square is safe, but from where I live you have to pass Broadgate Estate to get there. Usually I run. And so does Caro.

  You can hear people fighting in Broadgate Estate. The women scream with the windows open. And the men and boys hang over the balconies and shout at us when we go past.

  Once when Caro and I went past, someone shouted, ‘Does your friend fuck?’ And we started to run. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, which one of us was he talking to? And which one was the friend? Caro and I discussed it for ages, but we never could decide. It was very, very mysterious. Caro said he was on drugs. She says they all take drugs in Broadgate Estate. They must be very funny drugs if they make you lean over a balcony and shout, ‘Does your friend fuck?’

  I can remember when no one shouted anything. No one seemed to see us. But that’s all changed. Caro says it’s because nowadays we wear bras. She calls our bosoms ‘chesticles’. And she calls Cornwall Court, where we live, ‘Castle Cornwall’ because of the iron gates and the security locks. She says we’re like princesses locked in a tower. But I said, ‘If I were a princess I wouldn’t have to do the washing up.’

  And she said, ‘Or homework.’

  I am excused homework tonight because of the reconstruction. Which is another reason why this is the most special day of my life.

  My mum said, ‘I think they’re ready for you, dear. Now, do what you’ve been told, and don’t worry, I won’t be far away.’

  My mother treats me like a child. I wish she’d go home and let me enjoy myself. No one can enjoy themselves with their mother looking on.

  I started from the steps of Josie Farraday’s house. The lights were blinding. Everyone was watching. I wanted to toss my hair out of my eyes so I could see everyone watching. But it wasn’t my hair, it was Josie’s, and Josie’s always flopped in her eyes.

  I come down the steps, sort of clumping on my heels. It isn’t my fault. It’s because of the horrid black shoes. Clumping on my heels made me feel as if I actually looked like Josie. And Josie’s socks started slipping down my legs. So I pulled them up. Which is what Josie was always doing. It was one of the things that made her a nerd. And I am furious. Josie is making me look like a nerd on TV.

  All the lights were on in the art school because they have evening classes there.

  Caro and I tried to get in once, to see what they got up to, but they turned us out. One of the students told us strangers weren’t allowed in. She said it was because some dirty old men were always trying to get a peep at the nude models. I wish we could have seen a nude model but we only saw the entrance hall which was dark and dusty.

  After you walk past the art school, you get to Kennington Park Road. I turn right, because that’s what Josie did.

  Cleaver Square is like a small dark room in a house. When you leave it, it’s like going outside. Life begins outside Cleaver Square. On the main road it’s never dark, and lorries and buses rush past at all hours of the day or night.

  People were crowded at the windows of the White Bear pub to see me walk by. And just then, a number 33 bus went past and everyone stared out. The lady policeman told me they would stop the buses down by the tube station and give all the passengers leaflets with a number to ring if anyone remembered me - I mean Josie.

  Why would anyone remember Josie? She was just a nerdy girl who clumped on her heels. She didn’t look like anyone in particular. And how could anything happen on Kennington Park Road? It’s so public and ordinary.

  A policeman was standing in front of me to remind me to go down Ravendon Road. So I turned right again. Out of the light and into the dark. Ravendon Road is a creepy black corridor and I felt like a rabbit going into a hole. If Josie met a man it must have been somewhere like this. Where she couldn’t see him properly, and he couldn’t see her. If he could’ve seen her properly he’d have seen the clumpy shoes, and the socks.

  She’d have seen . . . Well she wouldn’t have seen a strong beautiful man with blue eyes. Sex attackers aren’t like that. You can always recognize a sex attacker on TV because he has piercing eyes and he stares. And while he’s staring he smiles. But it isn’t a nice smile. It’s a crocodil
e smile. Sometimes he has a scar on his cheek. If Josie could’ve seen him properly she’d have known he was a sex attacker. Except Josie was too stupid to know anything.

  This must have been where they met. Because, if Josie didn’t meet someone in Ravendon Road she would have gone to her friend’s house which is just round the corner in Methley Street. And they would have spent all evening watching TV and doing French irregular verbs. I know they would, because that’s what Caro and I were doing at Caro’s place.

  Anyway the police know she turned into Ravendon Road because someone saw her. And they know she came out again the same way because the next time she was seen it was in the newsagent opposite Kennington Park where she bought a packet of smokey bacon flavoured crisps. And that is very mysterious because her mother told the police Josie didn’t like smokey bacon flavour. So I think she bought them for the man. And that is very peculiar too. Because when she went into the newsagent there wasn’t a man. She went in alone.