Life and Soul of the Party

by Mike Gayle

  As the hymn came to a close the church fell silent and I turned to look at Chris. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and jagged. It must all be getting too much for him.

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, everything’s going to be all right,’ I whispered, taking his hand in mine.

  He didn’t speak. But his hands were shaking and he was rocking backwards and forwards just like that time in the car. And just like before he let out a groan from deep inside his chest, pulled his hands away from me and furiously rained down a cavalcade of blows against the top of his skull as though he were trying to smash his own brains out. Everyone in the vicinity watched on in bewilderment as Cooper, Melissa and I tried calm him down. He was crying now. Awful, uncontrollable sobs that wracked his entire body. We managed to get him out of the church and I persuaded the others to go back inside. I said I would look after him. When we were alone I knelt at his feet, put my arms around his legs and held on tight. Chris took his hands away from his face and fixed me with a grief-ridden stare. ‘I don’t know how to say this,’ he began. ‘You know I love you, don’t you? You, William and the baby. You’re my life.’ He stopped to wipe away the tears that were trickling down his face. ‘It kills me to know what I’ve done. It kills me in a way I can’t even tell you.’ He bent down to pull me closer to him. I didn’t resist because in an odd kind of way that I can’t even begin to explain I knew exactly what was coming next.

  Cooper

  After the first hymn the vicar said a prayer which was followed by a reading – a passage from 1 Corinthians chapter 5. I didn’t really listen to any of it though. My mind was elsewhere, wondering if my brother was okay.

  I’d never seen Chris like that before. As kids it had always been me who had been the emotional one while Chris gave the impression of being totally in control. While I had moped around in my bedroom contemplating why yet again my advances towards some unsuspecting girl had been rejected, Chris had a queue of girls desperate to go out with him. Outside the world of girls Chris always came over more confident and assured: applying for jobs for which he was way under-qualified but getting them after winning over the interview panel with his charm; talking to strangers at parties and turning them into friends who last a lifetime; and when Dad died of a heart attack it had been me and Mum who had fallen apart while Chris had held it together – contacting everyone who needed to know, making all the arrangements so that neither Mum nor I had to do a thing. So I’d always assumed that Chris was different. That he didn’t feel the things that normal people felt. That he was almost superhuman. From the evidence of the day so far this was far from true. Chris was just an ordinary person who thought he had perfected the art of suppressing his emotions only to be proven wrong by time and circumstance. He was just a guy who had lost his best friend in the most terrible way and today the hurt had been too much for him to bear.

  ‘I’m going to check on Chris and Vicky,’ I whispered to Naomi as the vicar closed his bible and announced to the congregation that we would all be singing another hymn. ‘You know, make sure they’re all right.’

  ‘Couldn’t do any harm,’ whispered Naomi. ‘I don’t think he’ll be in any condition to give the eulogy though, do you?’

  I shrugged. I looked at the order of service in my hand. After the hymn the Vicar was going to say some introductory words then it was the eulogy. ‘I’d better go. I haven’t got much time if this whole thing isn’t going to turn into a disaster.’

  ‘It won’t be a disaster,’ said Naomi. ‘I’ll come with you and help make sure everything’s okay.’

  The congregation rose as the organist began playing the opening notes of ‘Abide With Me’, and we made our way to the back of the church. Everyone stared at us curious about our involvement in the earlier commotion. I did my best to keep my eyes fixed on the doors at the back.

  Chris and Vicky were nowhere to be seen. I was about to check the toilets when I heard the sound of raised voices and looked through the glass doors of the church to see Chris and Vicky apparently having a violent row. A tearful Vicky was yelling at Chris to let her go while Chris was desperately clinging on to her. Over and over again he kept begging her not to go. Over and over he kept telling her that he was sorry. And while I knew that my brother would never hurt Vicky, the scene was no less disturbing especially given that she was pregnant. I stepped outside and yelled at Chris.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Just go back inside. Coop,’ he yelled. ‘This has nothing to do with you. We’re fine. Leave us alone, okay.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ I took a few steps closer. ‘Whatever’s going on there’s got to be a better way than this to solve it.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Chris, real desperation in his voice. ‘I’ve made a mess of everything. Coop. Everything. All I want is for her to listen. All I want is for us to talk.’

  ‘So that you can tell me more lies?’ spat Vicky. ‘He’s been cheating on me. Cooper. Cheating on me while I was at home looking after our child. And with Tony Palmer’s girlfriend of all people. See that? He hasn’t got a loyal bone in his body. He cheats on me, he cheats on his friends. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he’s cheated on you too some time in the past.’ She turned to face Chris. ‘You’re not worthy of being a father, a friend or even a brother. You’re the lowest of the low and I hope everyone learns the truth about you.’

  I’d never seen Chris look so cowed. Time felt as though it was standing still. No cars drove past. No people appeared. Naomi, Chris, Vicky and I stood frozen in time. There was silence except for the faint sound of singing from inside the church.

  ‘I never want to see you again,’ said Vicky wrenching her arms from his grip. ‘I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to talk to you ever again.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘You don’t know me if you think that I don’t mean what I’m saying. You don’t know me at all.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me the car keys now or you will regret it more than you’ve regretted anything in your life.’ Chris held out the car keys and Vicky snatched them from his open hand. ‘This is your best friend’s funeral, and you turn it into a mockery.’

  ‘I just want the chance to make things right.’

  ‘I don’t care what you want,’ said Vicky. ‘Your wants. Your needs. They don’t register with me any more. If you need anything at all from now on talk to a solicitor because I know I will be.’

  Vicky walked away but Chris quickly caught up with her. ‘What about you and the baby? What about William? I need to see him.’ Vicky wrenched herself free again.

  I decided that this had gone on long enough and grabbed my brother before he could catch up with her. Chris was taller and three years older than me and the last time we had fought had been the best part of twenty years ago. I’d barely got a single blow in before Chris had tackled me to the ground and punched me so hard in the face that my nose bled. I would have ended up with much worse had Dad not come home early from work and heard the commotion. Belting both of us around the head he managed to separate us before too much damage was done. Still, it was weeks before Chris would even sit in the same room as me and months before we exchanged a single word.

  But that was then.

  I’d filled out since my teenage years. I was taller, broader and stockier than he had been in his youth. If it came to blows now I was in no doubt which one of us would come off worse.

  ‘Let her go. I mean it, Chris. Just let her go.’

  I could see the dilemma play out across Chris’s features. The loss of face in backing down to me, his desperate need to keep hold of Vicky, the desire to not have the whole situation spiral out of control.

  ‘Just let her go, Chris,’ I spoke, more forcefully this time. ‘What if she falls? You’d never forgive yourself. So let her go while you have the chance.’

  For a moment I was afraid that I was going to have to hit him but then he stepped away fro
m us both.

  ‘You’re right, I shouldn’t be like this. I’m sorry.’

  He sounded defeated. As if he had nothing left to live for. Naomi put her arm round Vicky.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she replied. ‘Things just got out of hand.’

  I was unsure what to do next. I looked to Chris in the hope that he might offer some guidance but there was none. It was up to me.

  ‘Go home, Chris. Go home before you make things worse than they already are.’

  Hannah

  The hymn was coming to a close when I spotted Cooper and Naomi returning to the hall. I looked around for Chris as he was supposed to be giving the eulogy but I couldn’t see him anywhere. As Cooper and Naomi took their seats the vicar announced that he was now going to call on Mr Chris Cooper to come forward and share a few thoughts on behalf of all Paul’s friends and family. Cooper stood up and made his way to the microphone at the front of the church, seemingly unaware of the murmurs of disquiet around him.

  ‘Hi,’ he began. ‘I’m not Chris Cooper. I’m Chris Cooper’s kid brother, Jamie. People don’t call me Jamie though. They call me Cooper. I don’t know why. I’m standing here today because my brother can’t be here. I think the truth of the matter is that it got too much for him to handle. You see, Chris loved Paul like a brother. And as his actual brother I know exactly what that kind of love feels like and believe me I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m guessing that if it was me who was supposed to be up here talking to a room full of people about how much I missed Chris . . . well, I doubt whether I’d be able to do it either. Sometimes you can be too close. Sometimes it can be a bit too raw. Love is like that. That’s why Paul meant so much to us all. And all of us – his partner Hannah, his mum Eileen, dad John, and brothers Matt and Alex, his extended family back in Telford and the family of friends that he made here in Manchester – we’ll all miss him every single day for the rest of our lives.’ Cooper looked up from the microphone for the first time. ‘Things will never be the same without Paul being here with us and nor should they. We want to miss him. We need to miss him. Because we all know this: the only things you truly miss are those that mean the world to you.’

  Melissa

  From the moment that Cooper said that about Chris loving Paul like a brother I had found it impossible not to keep the turmoil I was feeling in any more. I wasn’t the only one. Sounds of grief were audible all around the church, from both men and women. I had never felt sadness like this before. It felt different. Sharper. More real. And the fact that I was sharing it with so many others made the emotion more intense.

  As Cooper returned to his seat the vicar waited a few minutes for people to compose themselves before he stood up to address the congregation again. On behalf of Paul’s family he thanked everyone for coming, gave out the address of the cemetery and signalled with a nod to the undertakers standing at the rear of the church to come to the front and remove the casket containing Paul’s body. I didn’t want to think about him lying in a box. I didn’t want that to be the last image in my head so much that I kept my eyes fixed to the ground until I was sure the coffin had gone.

  The vicar announced the final hymn, ‘Amazing Grace’, and as one we all rose and sang. When the vicar asked everyone to remain standing for a final prayer I said my own. I talked internally about how much I missed Paul; how I felt his absence like an ache in my heart that would never be relieved; about my regret at not having told him how much I loved him the last time we had seen each other and finally how much I wished that he was still there to talk to. As the vicar concluded his prayer with an amen I said a loud amen of my own.

  I was so wrapped in thought that I wasn’t even aware that the service had finished until Naomi touched my arm. Startled, I shook my head as though trying to clear a fog but it didn’t seem to want to go. People were moving around. The collective volume of a hundred separate conversations rose to deafening proportions.

  I looked over to Cooper’s empty seat and wondered where he could’ve escaped to so quickly.

  ‘Where’s Cooper?’

  ‘Outside,’ she explained. ‘He said he needed some air. His eulogy was amazing, wasn’t it? You could feel the whole church hanging on to everything he said. I think it was incredible for him to step after what happened with Chris and Vicky.’

  ‘Why, what’s happened to them? Haven’t they come back yet?’

  Naomi seemed reluctant to say anything further. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Melissa. But it’s not really my place to say what’s gone on.’

  ‘Vicky’s my oldest friend. Just tell me what happened.’

  ‘Maybe you should ask Cooper. He should tell you. Not me.’

  I began making my way to the exit to find Cooper. Every few steps I was stopped by people I knew, people who were my friends as well as Paul’s. They all said the same thing: how shocked they were by the news, how they couldn’t believe he was really gone, how difficult it must be for me given the circumstances. And all I could think was, ‘I need to get out of here. I need to make sure Vicky’s all right.’

  Eventually I made it through the rear doors and outside. Chris, Cooper and Vicky were nowhere to be seen. Standing out of the way of the stream of mourners I pulled out my phone and switched it on, conscious of its inappropriate polyphonic chime as it started up. I dialled Vicky’s number but it just rang out several times before switching to her voicemail. I left a short message telling her that I loved her and asking her to ring me back when she had the chance.

  I looked up at the midday sky. The grey start to the day had vanished and it was now a beautiful summer’s afternoon. The sun felt warm against my skin and for a few moments I enjoyed the sensation but then a huge wave of sadness crashed over me and the tears started to fall once more. The angrier I got with myself for letting go, the more furiously they came until I took a deep breath into my lungs and held on to it with a determination that surprised me. By the time I had no option but to gasp for air, the tears had subsided.

  Desperate to conceal all traces of my grief I headed towards the ladies’ toilets inside the church lobby to fix my make-up. When I was a few feet away the door opened and out stepped Hannah with a well-dressed woman in her fifties. The resemblance between them was so strong that it could only have been her mother. Hannah seemed lost in a world of her own but then she met my gaze and I saw the same anguish and despair that I felt in my own soul. I wanted to say something that might alleviate her pain. But I couldn’t. I stood back and watched as Hannah’s mother continued with her tale of some long-forgotten relative as she guided Hannah towards the exit. I hoped Hannah might stop and turn round, might acknowledge my existence, but she didn’t. As I stood there with tears of guilt welling up in my eyes, I acknowledged that had I been in Hannah’s shoes I would have behaved in exactly the same way.

  Three Months Later

  Ed and Sharon’s New Year’s Eve Party

  December 2006

  Melissa

  For a long time after the funeral I felt as though the ‘off’ button for my grief had been broken or that a gear somewhere inside me had snapped. All I wanted to do was shut myself off from the world. Things with Billy weren’t going well, either. I convinced myself that telling him about sleeping with Paul would hurt him too much to justify easing my conscience. So I tried to get on with the business of being a couple as best I could and for a while things were okay. We went away for a weekend, we spent time with his friends as well as mine and we even managed a trip to Ikea to buy a couple of table lamps. But whether it was my burgeoning sense of guilt or the fact that I felt wrong pretending to be happy when I quite clearly wasn’t, I gradually found myself sabotaging everything good that we had. It started out with small arguments but soon progressed to whole days where I would barely say a single thing. We would’ve probably carried on like that for months because even though I was being horrible to him Billy was always gentle, kind and understanding, explaining away my
mood swings by saying that I had been through a lot and that it was completely understandable that I wouldn’t be myself for a while.

  At the beginning of November, however, in the middle of a row that had started with my refusal to accompany him to a family wedding because of essay deadlines, I’d finally had enough and before I knew what I was doing I told him I’d slept with Paul on the night of Laura’s party. His look of hurt is something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. His first words as he recovered from the shock of my confession were: ‘But I thought you were different’. It was those words that hurt the most. He was right. I’d given him the impression that I was different. I’d let him believe that I was something that I wasn’t. But I wasn’t different. I wasn’t special. I was just like everybody else. I moved out the next day.

  As for Ed and Sharon’s party that year, none of us made it. Vicky and Chris were going through their separation so the last thing they wanted to do was go to a party; Cooper took up Naomi’s offer to spend a few days at her uncle’s cottage in Cornwall and as for me, my New Year’s Eve was spent looking out of the window of my childhood bedroom watching other people’s fireworks while Mum and Dad sat downstairs watching TV. When midnight came around, and rockets and explosions filled the air, I thought of the previous New Year’s Eve and how hopeful it had made me feel. Suddenly I missed my friends, I missed what we all had together and I wanted to let them know how much they meant to me. I typed out a group text message on my mobile saying everything I wanted to share. But before I could press ‘send’ an idea hit me that made me add a final PS – after a year spent going to other people’s parties, whatever my circumstances come the summer when the weather was warmer, when we’d all feel better and above all when we’d all be together, I’d finally throw a party of my own.