by Ben Elton
‘So instead I asks if I can sit in her doorway with her for a while since I’d been on me feet for hours, an’ she moves over an’ I sit down next to her on the dirty tiles. I’d found that I still had a soft pack o’ Marlboro Lights squashed in me back pocket and on the streets you’re always welcome if you’ve got a pack of fags.
‘So we’re smokin’ fags an’ talkin’ an’ I’m askin’ her about where she comes from, being as how she’s a long way from home, what wi’ her obviously being Scottish an’ all, an’ I’m tellin’ her how I love all them mountains they have up there an’ one day I’m gonna climb ‘em, an’ she says she feels the same. She says she reckons she’s goin’ t’wash herself in one o’ the little lakes they have at the top, which sounds fookin’ horrible t’me, besides which I don’t think you get lakes at the top o’ mountains.
‘Anyway, after a while she starts t’tell me about her life an’ about her stepfather comin’ into her room, an’ how for years she reckoned it were all her fault because her mum never protected her, an’ as we’re talkin’…I’m thinkin’, see…an’ secretly…deep inside…I’m coming to a decision.
‘Because in that first hour or so I was in Jessie’s company, that’s her name, by the way, Jessie, I decided I was going to save her. That’s right, I was going to save her. And then she could save me. ‘Epiphany, y’see. You don’t fook wi’ it when it ‘appens. It taps you on the shoulder and says, ‘Hallo, all change please, different agenda, let’s be ‘avin’ you now! Stand by your beds!’
‘I think actually it must have all started with Gemma the night before. I mean it sounds pathetic, but I had really trusted that bird and she done me over big time. I were talkin’ to her about how I had no friends an’ couldn’t make any and then bang! I wake up wi’ a camera in my face and she proves my whole fookin’ point, don’t she? Then, the very next morning, I bump into Jessie.
‘There I was, fookin’ blunderin’ about the place, wallowin’ in self-pity, hatin’ everythin’, trustin’ nobody, comin’ t’the depressin’ conclusion that absolutely nothin’ in my fooked-up world is real, including myself, an’ suddenly I meet a bird who’s so real it en’t funny. This bird’s got nothing, right? Nowt. Absolutely fook all. But for all that, for all the fact that she’s half skin an’ bone, it’s totally clear to me that there is more actual substance to her than everything else currently happenin’ in my life put together times ten. Real? This girl is so real she’s actually got a bayonet. What’s more, a bayonet which she seems to be prepared to use. ‘How fookin’ real is that}
‘So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ her smoke me fags an’ listenin’ to her talk, an’ like I say, I realize that my new mission in life has leapt fully formed inta me brain. I am goin’ to save this girl. I am goin’ to transform her life fookin’ big time.
‘What can I say? You probably think I’m being pathetic. Maybe I am. Maybe we see only what we want to see an’ chuck out the rest. Maybe we’re all carryin’ pedestals round wi’ us, lookin’ for someone to put on ‘em. Maybe after gettin’ stitched up by Gemma what I wanted to see was a lost girl that I could love and who would love me. Maybe all I wanted was somebody I could trust.
‘But, you see, I think that’s the point. Trust. The thing that first started me on the course I’m now on and intend to remain on until it’s finished. This girl did not know who I was. She didn’t know and she didn’t care. That were an amazin’ feelin’ for me. Call me an overindulged whining little cont if you like, but I can’t tell you how relaxin’ I found it.
‘What’s more, she was beautiful. Oh, I see, you’re all thinkin’ so that’s what this is all about. Tommy got all romantic about sufferin’ an’ wanted to shag her.
‘Well no, as it happens. That weren’t what it was about at all. I’m just sayin’ that she was beautiful, all right? Because it’s true. For all the fact that she was dirty an’ pale an’ her skin weren’t in the best of nick an’ I could see from the bones at her neck an’ the way her tits hung that she were very underweight, for all that and more, she was beautiful. Big, big dark eyes, delicate features, cute little legs curled up under her coat, an’…an’…wellIdon’t fookin’ know, do I? All I know is that as I sat there in that doorway talkin’ to her, I found her beautiful. And I will never forget those big dark eyes set in that pale face as long as I live.’
KFC, THE BULL RING, BIRMINGHAM
You really done the turkey…in a brothel?’
‘That’s right. Ah did it.’
‘That’s…well, that’s just fookin’ incredible.’
‘Aye, Ah know.’
‘So what happened after you escaped?’
‘Well, like Ah told ye, Ah blagged these clothes offa the Oxfam man an’ headed off tae start ma new life. Ah was out o’ whore’s clothes for the first time since Ah’d met Francois an’ Ah felt so uplifted and lightheaded Ah think Ah could ha’ flown away if Ah’d wanted. tae be straight an’ free an’ not being screwed by a stranger seemed tae me tae be about the highest possible summit o’ human happiness.’
‘Well, I can fookin’ understand that, quite frankly.’
‘Ah keep thinkin’ about all the poor girls Ah left behind. Ah’ve thought about goin’ tae the police, but the pathetic thing is, Ah’ve no idea where Goldie’s place is. Ah just ran and ran from it. Ah could no retrace ma steps if Ah tried.’
‘So what now, then?’ Tommy asked.
‘Ah have tae be very clear about that. Getting out from under isnae easy. Everything ye need tae climb up from the pit is up there above ye where you’re trying tae get. Can’t get a job without ID, can’t get ID without an address, can’t get an address without ID. It’s catch twenty-two. There’s a ladder all right, but it’s on the next floor up. There’s a safety net for sure but we’re under-fuckin’—neath it.’
‘So what are you going t’do?’
‘Well, Ah have a little list, see. It’s no written down because Ah don’t have a pen. Ah can’t remember the last time Ah wrote anything down. Ah don’t know if Ah can still write! It’s in my head, see, and number one, at the very top, is stay straight. One thing Ah know is that being offa drugs won’t necessarily get a person back tae the planet they came from, but being on them will stop ye for sure. So ye have tae stay straight.’
‘Well, you’ve proved you can do that, haven’t you? I mean, it can’t get any worse than cold turkey, can it? Not the way you did it.’
‘Ah can see ye weren’t lyin’ about the number o’ nights ye’ve spent on the streets. It gets cold, believe me, even now in May. Cold and very lonely. Ah can’t tell ye what a comfort it would a’ been last night huddled in that doorway tae hit masel’ up, oh Jesus, it would a’ passed them long, lonely terrifying hours, for sure. But I mustnae. If I’m tae get off the streets Ah have tae stay straight.’
‘What’s next on the list?’
Tommy looked at the clock above the counter. One thirty. In twenty hours or so Jessie could write ‘Get whisked away to paradise by famous rock star’ on her list and chuck the rest away.
FALLOWFIELD COMMUNITY HALL, MANCHESTER
I hadn’t changed my mind, see. No way. My sense o’ purpose was gatherin’ wi’ every moment I spent wi’ Jessie. I’m not sayin’ it were love at first sight or anythin’, because quite frankly I don’t know what that means, but it were definitely a commitment, that’s for sure. An emotional commitment, an’ if you want t’laugh at that then go ahead. Believe me, I’ve heard all the arguments about why this is all just my fantasy, that in effect I’ve made this girl up. Made her what I want her to be. Created a damsel in distress who I can save to assuage me own feelin’s o’ fookin’ inadequacy. I’ve got a therapist. He’s told me what a wanker I’m being. I pay a hundred quid an hour to get dissed by a bloke wi’ all the romance an’ passion o’ Steps’ greatest hits. How stupid is that?
‘I know that I’ve invented this fookin’ bird in me ‘ead. I know that it’s all a reflection of me own need to compensate for me f
eelings of self-loathing. I also know that I fookin’ love ‘er an’ I always will. Whatever ‘appens.’
KFC, THE BULL RING, BIRMINGHAM
OK, so point one is to stay straight. I’ll buy that. What’s point two?’
‘The next priority is definitely tae get off the streets. Ye cannae make any improvement in your life until you’re off the street. Ye’ll learn that very quickly, Tommy. It’s My Fair Lady, isn’t it? The ultimate dream. ‘All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air.’ If ye can get off the streets ye can sign on, ye can get a job, ye can keep away from pimps.’
‘Right, so you need a room somewhere.’
But where? Tommy was thinking. Mustique? The Seychelles? Florida? He would offer her a world of choice.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, when he could get to his people.
‘Ah’ve already spied out a couple o’ drop-in centres and got ma name down for an interview for a halfway house hostel. Ah managed that Friday, straight after Ah left the Oxfam shop. They didnae like the look o’ ma arms, but Ah assured them that Ah was clean an’ my plan was tae get indoors somewhere an’ then work ma arse off tae save. Ah’ll have no problem getting work, crap work but work. Ah scrub up well an’ Ah know how tae catch the eye o’ a McDonald’s recruitment manager. Not that Ah’ll ever do more than flutter ma eyelashes, Ah can assure ye, Tom. A subsection o’ point one on ma list, the one about gettin’ straight, is tae never ever whore again.’
‘Good plan.’
‘Then once Ah’ve got a job Ah’ll be able to rent masel’ that room an’ Ah’ll work days an’ evenings an’ weekends and sleep on ma own in ma own room in between times. That’s all point two. Get in a hostel, get work, get a room, get more work an’ every second Ah’m no’ workin’ an’ savin’ up ma money, sleep — alone. Quite frankly, Ah can think o’ nothing better than point two…except for point three.’
‘What could possibly be better than living in one room on your own and working yourself to death?’
‘Are ye taking the piss?’
‘Sorry.’
‘When Ah was a wee girl at home Ah had ma own room until one day ma daddy fucked off an’ ma stepfather moved in, an’ he reckoned that room was his too. After Ah run away Ah had doorways an’ Ah can tell ye Ah made sure that Ah was never on ma own in them, because getting raped in the entrance tae Marks an’ Sparks is no’ ma idea of a great night. Then after Francois gotta hold o’ me Ah spent ma nights on pavements and inside o’ kerb crawlers’ cars. Since then Ah’ve shared a ten-bunk dormitory in a brothel wi’ a bunch o’ birds from the Balkans who don’t speak English. So don’t and Ah mean don’t fuckin’ laugh at me when Ah tells ye that ma dream is the same as Eliza fuckin’ Doolittle’s, OK? Particularly when Ah’m buyin’ the fuckin’ coffee.’
‘Yeah. OK, fair enough. Like I said, sorry.’
‘Apology accepted. Ya twat.’
Tommy smiled at Jessie. The puppy-dog eyes still held their power, even under the bruises. Jessie smiled back.
‘So what’s point three, then?’ Tommy asked.
‘A holiday! That’s point three. A holiday…‘ Jessie’s smile broadened at the very thought of it.
‘Wi’ sunshine…Sunshine! Oh ma Goad, how Ah long tae feel the sunshine. Not just a little bit, but endless, endless sunshine, all-day sunshine, sunshine everywhere, dappling the ground, rippling in your clothes, getting caught up in your hair…like havin’ a bath in it…’
Such was the intensity of Jessie’s fantasy that it almost seemed to Tommy as if the sun was inside her already, shining through those dark, haunted eyes, glowing beneath the pale skin at her neck.
‘An’ a beach! A long, long, long lonely beach o’ glistening white sand, sand so white it hurts your eyes. Sand so fine ye cannae feel the grains…sand like talcum powder…wi’ an ocean o’ turquoise blue lapping upon it. A warm ocean, but cooler than the sand, so getting in it just makes your skin feel alive…an’ no one, an’ Ah mean no one, botherin’ me at all. Not one single solitary person tae have any single solitary thing tae do wi’ me lessen Ah tells them it’s OK, that it’s what Ah want. That’s ma point three, Tommy Boy. Ah’ll work an’ work until Ah can afford it, an’ then Ah’ll send a solicitor’s letter tae ma ma, demanding ma birth certificate or some other proof o’ ma existence so Ah can get me a passport, just like a real fuckin’ proper human person, and Ah’ll fly away for three weeks or whatever Ah can afford, no less than two, tha’s for sure. Ah’m not goin’ anywhere jus’ for a week. An’ when Ah return Ah’ll be returning tae a world of which Ah’m a member. An then Ah’ll begin tae consider point four, which will be tae get trained up somehow or other, maybe study, get a proper job an’ a house an’ find some way or other o’ bringin’ justice taste the bastard that ma ma brought into our lives an’ let intae ma room an’ who completely an’ utterly fucked up ma entire life.’
‘You’re going to report him to the police?’
‘If Ah feel Ah can punish him that way then Ah will, but unless there’s others who’ll come forward an’ back me up then it’s his word against mine an’ Ah’m an ex-whore an’ junkie, don’t forget.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘Somethin’, Ah don’t know. Ma fantasy is tae stick knitting needles in his eyes, but Ah won’t, he’s taken five years o’ ma life already, Ah shan’t go tae prison for him. Ma current idea is taste stand outside his house every morning and then follow him taste work shouting that he fucks little girls while they’re tryin’ taste sleep.’
Not necessary, thought Tommy. Because he would personally be putting the biggest, best, must humungously expensive, fuck off, scorched-earth, attrition, predator, bastard legal team in the country at Jessie’s disposal on the very following morning. Every lawyer in Scotland would be immediately bought off their current cases and pressed into the sole service of bringing that molesting little shit to justice.
Tomorrow morning. Everything would be all right in the morning.
They sat in the KFC for as long as they could. It was so warm and bright. Jessie had taken off her big coat. She still wore the tight little top in which she had run away. Once more Tommy noted the delicacy of her shoulders, the small, elegant bones about her neck, the slim white damaged arms, the curve of her breast, and he thought again that Jessie was beautiful.
How she’d have laughed if she’d read his mind and known the truth, that he, Tommy Hanson, who had famously slept with half the supermodels at London Fashion Week, should find her beautiful. Of course, being able to read his thoughts would not have been enough. Even if she’d read them she’d never have believed them.
FALLOWFIELD COMMUNITY HALL, MANCHESTER
Jessie was just so…I don’t know, different. She was honest an’ funny an’ she didn’t give a fook about anythin’ except being’ left alone. It were…what can I say?…Look, I know I thought I’d been in love only the night before with that lying slag Gemma, but I don’t care. A man can get it absolutely wrong and absolutely right in the space of a day, can’t he? I’ve done that loads o’ times. I’m telling you. Jessie was…riveting. I could not take my eyes off her, an’ the more I looked at her an’ listened to her, the more beautiful she got. Even the old track marks on her arms were beautiful to me, not least because I intended to ensure that those tracks would be the last ever made on Jessie’s lovely skin and also because I knew that once the plastic surgeon I was going to pay for had done his work that soft alabaster surface would be perfect again.
‘But that too was going to ‘ave to wait until the Monday. Everything was going to be all right in the morning.’
THE BULL RING, BIRMINGHAM
Oh my Goad!’ Jessie remarked suddenly in mockingly dramatic tones. ‘There’s you on the front o’ that paper, Tom Boy! What have you been up to, you naughty naughty thing!’
Sure enough, there it was, left behind by another diner who had had his fill of sport and scandal. Yet another Tommy Hanson front-page exclusive. And what an ex
clusive it was.
Slept with Pop Hero Judge to Win…Tortured Tommy weeps as he confesses gay affair with record boss.’ ‘Fookin’—’ell.’ Tommy snatched up the paper on the front of which was a photograph of a rather surprised-looking Tommy wrapped around an intrepid investigative journalist.
He had never imagined that Gemma would have been able to move so fast, but these days of course to email a photograph is the work of an instant and for such an incredible exclusive all presses had been held. The editor, who had put the paper to bed the previous evening, had been woken in the small hours and knew immediately that he had to remake the front page. The banner headlines about the Home Secretary’s call to arms on drugs policy would have to be pushed back to page eight or nine, as would the associated news that the paper’s own doctors had confirmed Robert Nunn the junkie’s continuing clean bill of health. The Tommy Hanson exclusive needed the first eight pages at least, and it needed them now. The editor knew only too well that if he let the story lie for a week Tommy’s publicists would quickly do their muddying work, spinning countless other contradictory and misleading Tommy exclusives into rival newspapers, dropping veiled hints about stitch-ups and conspiracies until nobody would know what to believe.
Tommy put the paper down. He always tried not to read the things that were written about him. They only depressed him, and this one looked particularly depressing. Besides, why would he be interested? That newspaper was reporting on the last night of his old life. He was a different person now. That Tommy was yesterday’s news. Not to Jessie, of course, who devoured the article hungrily just as eight million other people had done that morning.