Purple People
Page 40
‘Tell him I loved Pam at the hairdressers!’
‘Getting her lilac rinse washed out.’
‘Yes, that was brilliant.’ Annie was taking a jacket out of a dry cleaners’ bag. ‘How’s Duncan? It must be odd for him, being back to normal, mustn’t it?’
‘Yes – though that kind of odd he can live with.’ Eve laughed. ‘And he’s become rather partial to wearing shorts.’
Annie put the jacket to one side and gave Eve a hug goodbye.
‘Keep me posted on everything.’
‘Of course!’
Eve put the Pepper mug next to the champagne bottle, and made her way into the corridor.
She was handing her visitor’s pass back to the receptionist when Theo Fletcher arrived. He approached the desk, a pair of aides two steps behind him. He stopped when he saw Eve.
‘Miss Baxter,’ he said.
‘Hello, Prime Minister. You’re looking very well.’
A pause. ‘Thank you. What brings you here?’
‘Just hopping about, you know. Places to go, people to see.’
‘I can imagine. What’s next for you?’
‘Goodness knows,’ said Eve.
‘How’s your friend?’
‘Friend?’ Was he referring to Womble? Was this about to be some kind of threat?
‘The one you mentioned, who’d been Turned.’
‘Oh. Duncan. Better, thank you. Relieved.’
Theo Fletcher nodded. How peculiar, Eve thought. He was willing to Turn people, and yet he cared?
‘What’s next for you?’ she asked, almost blushing at her own unanticipated cheek.
He wagged a finger at her, with pantomime sternness.
‘Doing my job, to the best of my ability, of course.’
The aides had collected their passes from the receptionist, who – obviously a fan – looked towards Theo.
With an enlivened smile, he responded to her attention by saying, ‘Good afternoon, young lady. I’m here to see Annie Morris.’
‘Young! Aren’t you the card, Prime Minister. I haven’t been called that for thirty years!’ she said. ‘I was very sad to hear that you’re scrapping the Purpling. I know we all thought it was a bit batty to begin with, but it was going great guns, wasn’t it? There was a lad round my way – ooh, he was a devil.’
‘Was he Turned?’
‘No, but he had a friend who was, and as soon as that happened you could just see him looking over his shoulder. Barely said boo to a goose.’
‘I’m glad you shared that story with me, thank you—’ Theo Fletcher leaned forward, peering at the receptionist’s enamel name pin.
‘Betty.’
‘I do agree, Betty. It’s a terrible shame, especially considering that other countries were about to adopt the scheme too, seeing obvious value in it. But we’ll be undertaking some research, and who knows…’
‘So you might bring it back? Why don’t you put the decision to the public? It’s been so popular, and that would be democratic, Prime Minister, wouldn’t it? Let people have a think, and make up their own minds.’
Theo Fletcher said, ‘I couldn’t possibly comment on that.’
‘Well, Prime Minister, I’m sure you’ll do what’s right,’ said Betty.
‘Of course he will,’ said Eve.
‘Thank you for your help, Betty,’ said Theo, ‘it was good to talk to you.’
He took a step away from the desk, turning to address Eve before he disappeared towards the studio.
‘It was a pleasure to see you again. Perhaps you’ll be staying here in Blighty, observing how things progress while the Purple Scheme is dormant?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I’d be interested to hear your thoughts if you do. After all, you’ve not experienced how lively things are usually, have you? Let me know – we can arrange a meeting.’
Eve opened her mouth to respond, and Theo held his hands up, deflecting her answer.
‘Don’t say no now, just think about it. It’s not too much to ask, is it, under the circumstances?’ He smiled.
Then Theo Fletcher gave Betty a wave as he made his way towards the lifts, his aides behind him.
Betty swooned a little. She looked at Eve and said, ‘He’s a handsome devil, isn’t he?’
Eve nodded politely, not sure that those were the best words to describe him.
*
Helena glanced at the man behind them, smoke from his cigarette wafting towards their table as he selected tunes on the jukebox.
‘It’s been lovely having you back,’ she said to Eve, ‘irrespective of you happening to bring down an evil plot against humanity while you were here.’
Womble rolled his eyes. ‘My love, you could say that anti-social behaviour is a plot against—’
‘Stop it, you two!’ said Eve. ‘Don’t even joke about it. Besides, I might still have some work to do – I can feel Theo Fletcher already trying to butter me up for something.’
‘You don’t think he’s going to wriggle his way out of the agreement?’ Helena asked, horrified.
‘No… I mean, in theory he can’t… But—’
‘Cheeky git,’ said Helena. ‘Magnus and his crew will be on the case, legally, won’t they?’
‘Yes,’ said Eve, ‘and they’ve said multiple times that it’s watertight, that it would be foolish for him to try and go back on it.’
‘So it must be.’
Eve nodded. Theo Fletcher had something up his sleeve, she was sure, but the folk at Humane, together with some high-flying human rights lawyers and Magnus, had all insisted that they had everything they needed to keep the Purpleness at bay (‘Plus,’ Magnus had told her, ‘that video footage is absolute dynamite’).
Womble quietly drank his pint.
‘So, what are you going to do now?’ Helena asked Eve.
‘There’s a job going at Helena’s,’ said Womble.
Helena groaned.
‘You know the only animals I can deal with are ones with comedic talent or bus passes,’ said Eve.
‘Seriously, though,’ said Helena, ‘people in the know are contacting you. Annie’s got you some fancy meetings. Do you think you’ll stay?’
Eve looked at the lime slice floating in her whisky glass. She kept thinking about this, considering the possibilities. What to do?
‘What do you think?’ she asked Duncan. ‘I know your work is here, but do you fancy a spell in New York?’
‘What do you want to do?’ Duncan asked, attentively – and tickled pink.
‘I don’t know,’ said Eve, with most certain uncertainty. ‘Me and Adio – we’re partners in crime. We’ve rustled up some pretty exciting new prospects at Say Fantastique!, but maybe there’s room for other things too.’
She glanced towards a television mounted on the wall above the bar, where the ticker sliding across the screen declared the last Purple antidote would be administered by the end of the following week. When she turned back, Duncan was removing a hand from his pocket. He smiled.
‘Heads or tails?’
Eve thought of tipping ducks, dipping upside-down in the water.
‘Tails.’
Duncan tossed the coin into the air.
*
Eve had her eye on the half-pence piece about to be uncovered, suitably distracted from the muted television screen in the corner, where a newsreader in a pussy-bow blouse silently announced headlines, her words tip-toeing, typed, as subtitles:
*
In Westminster there have been reports of a prohibition-style alcohol ban being considered for the UK, for ‘health and behavioural reasons’. The rumours are unsubstantiated, however, and ministers have yet to comment. There’s no word yet as to whether that’s something he’ll be addressing, but the prime minister is scheduled to give a press conference in an hour…’
Acknowledgements
It’s been quite the journey getting to the point where you’re holding this book in your hands, and here are some sort-of chrono
logical thank yous.
*
Anna Davis and Chris Wakeling at Curtis Brown Creative, thank you for your wisdom, and belief in this daft dystopia.
The CBC gang, aka the novel-writing class of 2011. I know I’m the soppy nit who always says this, but you all are the best. It’s been truly life-changing to have a bunch of brilliant writerly souls to share things with – and the group has become so much more than that. I hope when we’re ninety we end up in an old folks’ home together (Emily and Julia, you’ll just have to visit us, with bags of Murray Mints, until you’re elderly enough to move in).
Some early readers provided thoughtful, insightful notes on the whole shebang: Kate Hamer, Lisa Berry, Theresa Howes, Annabelle Thorpe, Katie Gordon, Sarah Box and James Burt. Kate Hamer – thank you, too, for being a super champion of the book, and providing an ace endorsement.
I started this book with a question – why do people commit the thoughtless, violent crimes they do? – and as I neared the end of the first draft, I was fretting about not having answered that. Thank you James Box for the sage advice that sometimes what’s actually most important is not finding the answers so much as (hopefully) asking the right questions.
Michael Thomas – thank you for taking time to ponder the possibilities of why folk commit criminal acts, and having sought out useful research papers in advance of our meeting. Also for ‘purpetrators’! (Thank you, too, to Eric Drass for that introduction.)
*
To John Mitchinson, Kwaku Osei-Afrifa and Xander Cansell at Unbound for taking a chance on this book, and me (and to Port Eliot Festival for being the magical place where those wheels were set in motion…).
Also at Unbound HQ, thank you Georgia Odd, Sara Magness, Caitlin Harvey and Anna Simpson for support and exceptionally efficient author air traffic control.
Craig Taylor, Andrew Chapman and Mary Chesshyre, you all are excellent, and exceedingly patient, editors – thank you for making this such a better book.
Thank you Mark Ecob, Unbound’s alchemy-conjuring Creative Director, for the absolute corker of a cover. I can only hope that folk judge the book by it!
The Unbound Social Club for always-on-tap wisdom and merriment. What a fountain of knowledge! What a pool of talent!
Claude Annels – those Purple People cupcakes were delicious and persuasive – thank you! (I still get cravings for them…)
Katch Skinner – thank you so much for the beautiful, quote-rustling, lilac lass eggcups.
*
I’ve been extremely lucky in always having been encouraged with my writing. Teachers at infant school (Mrs Ranaboldo), junior school (Mrs Knight) and secondary school (Mrs Mead, Mrs O’Sullivan, Miss Lobban, Mrs Churchward) showed a belief in me that I wouldn’t understand or appreciate till much later.
Over the years, writers whose work I love have been incredibly gracious: a handwritten letter from Millie Murray; the cheery welcome and offer of breakfast – when faced with an unexpected interview, no less – from Kathy Lette; long-running kindness from Jonathan Trigell (and thanks for the fortuitous tweet that led me to Curtis Brown Creative); loveliness from Sylvia Patterson; tip top-ness (and what a quote, merci buckets!) from David Quantick; kindly effusiveness from Emma Jane Unsworth (what a brain-fizzing treat to receive!)… I’m very grateful that people I admire would generously give time and encouragement, and receiving it always feels like a fantastical treat. Thank you.
*
Steve Rosenfield at American Comedy Institute – I structure all my sentences differently since studying comedy with you!
Mary & Michael, William & Suzanne, Mark and Jane at the Northbank Hotel – thank you for looking after me during my many visits, and for being the best place to escape to when there’s writing or editing to do (even if the sea view is mesmerically distracting…).
*
I don’t think I could begin to thank the amazing friends that I’m lucky enough to have. I’m often pretty sentimental, but in case I don’t tell you – or tell you enough – please know how gobsmackingly grateful I am to have you in my life.
Also, I’ve had a very topsy turvy, bruising few years – mostly snakes, rare ladders – and am not sure how I would have stayed afloat or retained much faith in humanity without the following: Jo and Matt Hardy, Rowena Price, Jane Bedwell-Mortishire, Abby Hitchcock, Selma Attride, Katie Gordon, Richard Gordon, Lisa Berry, Lorna Woolfson, Jill Kaplan, Mary Ann and Tim Le Lean, Laurie Sitzia, Josh Emerson and Kyle Bean, Mish Maudsley, Kate and Marc Hamer, Julie Nuernberg, Alex Mullen, James Bates, Rifa and Chris Thorpe-Tracey, Roger Horlock, Beth Dodson, Marja Kivisaari, and the Razavi clan. You are spectacular, and have kept me upright on the treacle-covered mountain. I so appreciate it.
(also, to Becs Ewbank and Julie Sharp: thank you for always checking in, even though I can be rubbish with smoke signals).
I wouldn’t have been able to take the Curtis Brown Creative course were it not for the typical (if heartbreaking) generosity of the extraordinary Lucy Gordon. Thank you, Lucy (and Richard, when you said you hoped that gift would mean I’d be able to do something I wouldn’t otherwise have had the chance to do – this was certainly it).
My family – the Bells, Gateses, Lauristons and Hendersons – thank you for being so super. I definitely hit the jackpot in the family lottery, getting to be related to all of you.
Grandma and Grandad – what a pair! Ever encouraging, very much missed. Hope you’re toasting this somewhere with a tea/sherry/Guinness. Grandad, your enthusiasm, optimism and lack of judgement (of anyone) was awe-inspiring. What an utterly exemplary human (also, I’m still using that thesaurus).
Dad – thank you for all the things in recent times, and for providing life-saving support during the edit! It’s much appreciated.
And Mum… you are the loveliest, most wondrous human in all the world. Always supportive, cheerleading, wise… always making me laugh, and knowing the best thing to say when I’m stuck on a treacle-covered ledge and not sure how to get up, or down. Thank you providing the best foundation a gal could have, and being a quietly shining example of kindness, empathy and positivity.
*
Most importantly, to all who pledged. This book being brought into the world with Unbound has been life-affirming in that I’ve been able to experience the enthusiasm and generosity from all who supported it. It’s felt like a crowdfunding version of This is Your Life – that lovely folk from such varied times and adventures have helped make this happen. Hopefully even for those of you far away or with whom I haven’t crossed paths for many years, I’ll get to toast you in person with an appreciative cuppa (or Old Fashioned) before too long…
And finally, to anyone who doesn’t know me but took a chance on this wonky story, thank you. It’s appreciated more than you know.
Unbound is the world’s first crowdfunding publisher, established in 2011.
We believe that wonderful things can happen when you clear a path for people who share a passion. That’s why we’ve built a platform that brings together readers and authors to crowdfund books they believe in – and give fresh ideas that don’t fit the traditional mould the chance they deserve.
This book is in your hands because readers made it possible. Everyone who pledged their support is listed at the front of the book and below. Join them by visiting unbound.com and supporting a book today.
Beth Allen
Emily Alpren
Claudine Annels
John Auckland
Emil Björklund
Tracey Booth
Tomas Cronholm
Jane Dallaway
Emma de Polnay
Louise Farrow
Barbara Feinstein
Sylvia ferreira
Matt Gibson
Tim Glencross
Thomas Godber
Geetha Gopalan
Eamonn Griffin
Robert & Shirley Hardy
Jane Hemery
Sheila Howes
Charlotte Jackson
Jo Jackson
Oscar Johnson
Kate Jordan
Jill Kaplan
Dan Kieran
Rosemary Lauriston
James Madson
Sarah Mason Walden
Lucy McCahon
Barbara Joan Meier
John Mitchinson
Jane Mortishire
Tatiana N
Carlo Navato
Molly Norris
Lewis Nyman
Ruhee Padhiar
Mick Perrin
Hugh Platt
Justin Pollard
David Quantick
Craig Reilly
Anne Rupert
Mike Scott Thomson
Julie Sharp
Remy Sharp
Mark Sykes
Amber Wilson