I looked down at my red Nike T-shirt and my white Adidas trackies and my white Pumas. He was right. I mean I didn’t look like someone you’d give an administrative burden to if you didn’t want it dropped.
—Alright. What do the girls dress like round here?
—Blouses, said Terence Butcher. Black skirts. Thick stockings. Sensible shoes. Short hair. Think
Prisoner: Cell Block H
. Come here tomorrow afternoon looking the part and I’ll get you in.
—Oh god. I’m going to look like a 3-wheel trike.
Terence Butcher grinned.
—It’s like I was saying, he said. This is a war we win by ditching our principles.
* * *
Terence Butcher lent me 200 quid so I got the Victoria Line to Oxford Street and bought my
Cell Block H
clothes in H&M. I kept them on to get the feel and went looking for a place to get my hair cut. All I could find was one of those trendy places in Soho. My boy wouldn’t of liked it. For him a good hairdresser’s was where they let you put on the nylon capes backwards and run around shouting DINNER DINNER DINNER DINNER BATMAN. This place wasn’t like that at all it was a fashion hairdresser’s which is much more serious. It was all skinny girls and smoked glass in there and they were playing a club remix of ENGLAND’S HEART IS BLEEDING.
One of the girls came up to me when I walked in with my crutch and she asked would I like a drink.
—You don’t mean a G&T do you?
—Sorry, said the girl. I can offer you tea or coffee.
—Tea please then. 3 sugars.
The girl looked hard at me. There was no fat on her at all I reckon 3 sugars would of finished her off. She told me to sit down in one of the basin seats. I drank the tea they brought me and they washed my hair it was lovely. When they asked me how I wanted my hair done I said like Lady Di.
Afterwards I took the Central Line home to Bethnal Green. I couldn’t face walking down Bethnal Green Road at first. I needed something to take the edge off it all so I stopped in at The Green
Man which was a mistake on account of The Green Man is one of those pubs that never quite stops smelling of puke. It isn’t the nicest pub in the world in fact I needed a couple of drinks just to take the edge off The Green Man. In the end it was last orders before I got out of there.
It felt amazing having short hair. The wind was cold on my neck and my ears. Everything felt very fresh it was like I’d just been born.
I don’t know if you’ve ever walked with a crutch through the gangs of kids down Bethnal Green Road on your way from the tube station at 11:30 on a weeknight Osama. I should hope so. I mean we’re the kind of people you’re bombing so I would of hoped you’d of chosen us personally.
Anyway if you have ever walked through Bethnal Green at night you’ll know why it’s best to do it wearing a red Nike T-shirt with white Adidas trackies and white Pumas. You want to sort of blend in don’t you? But I was carrying all that clobber in my Asda carrier bag along with Mr. Rabbit and the bottle of Valium. What I was wearing was a white blouse and a dark-brown skirt from H&M and 40 denier hold-ups from Pretty Polly and Clarks black leather shoes. It wasn’t easy trying to look natural in that getup I don’t mind telling you. I had makeup on too. Dark-red lippie and black mascara. I felt like a tranny on her first trip outside as a woman. My new Diana hair had so much lacquer on it I swear a single spark would of left a crater where the East End used to be.
There were posters up everywhere telling you not to break curfew. They had a nice family on the posters. The kids were tucked up safe in bed and the parents were smiling and watching telly.
SAFELY INSIDE AFTER MIDNIGHT
the posters said.
WE’RE DOING OUR BIT
.
The Valium was mixing funny with the G&T. I kept seeing my boy in the lit windows above the shop fronts. I’d catch a glimpse of him and I’d think oh naughty monkey it’s well past your bedtime young man go back to sleep. Then I’d look again and the window would be empty so all you could see was the cold light from a bare
bulb and the dirty flock wallpaper on the inside of the walls. If you could of looked in my eyes you’d of seen the same thing I shouldn’t wonder.
I turned right onto Barnet Grove. It felt weird being back on my street. It felt like coming back from a long holiday only I hadn’t been anywhere nice had I? When I reached our estate it was all quiet and dead. The light was on in our flat. I must of left it on when I rushed out. I tried not to think of the electric bill. I was feeling very tired and alone. I should of liked to pop in and say hello to Jasper Black before I went back to my flat. I wanted to tell him I was out of hospital and maybe he’d of let me stay with him for an hour or 2 if Petra wasn’t around. Not to do anything I mean. We could of just watched the telly for a bit. I looked across the street at his house but there weren’t any lights on so I turned round and went into our estate.
I went through the swing doors to the stairwell. Oh god that smell. It was like my life had been quietly waiting there for me all along. Old chip fat. That’s what my life smelled of. And BK onion rings and ciggies and hash and sweaty trainers and nappies. The smell wrapped itself around me till I was choking and I sat down on the stairs and cried and cried and cried. My crying echoed in the stairwell and outside I could hear the police cars going up and down with their loudspeakers squawking at the last stragglers to get inside for curfew.
After a while I stopped noticing the smell. I was back in my life I didn’t need any more reminding. I stood up and climbed the stairs to our flat. We were only on the third floor so it wasn’t far to climb. I stopped outside our front door. I could hear noise from inside. It sounded like the telly was on. That’s funny I thought. I could of sworn I turned the telly off before we left. It made me feel a bit poorly thinking what a lightbulb and the telly left on for 2 months was going to look like on a red electricity bill. I found my keys and I opened the front door and went inside.
There were 2 people’s coats hanging off the pegs in the hallway and they weren’t anything to do with my family. One was a man’s
Barbour jacket. You wouldn’t of caught my husband dead in one of those. The other was a woman’s coat. It was wool and dark pink with a purple silk lining it looked like it cost more than our flat. I put my carrier bag down quietly. I didn’t know what was going on. It wasn’t burglars was it? I mean burglars don’t usually come in posh coats. At least not in Bethnal Green they don’t. I tiptoed down the hallway. The lounge door was open. I sort of wish it hadn’t been and then I wouldn’t of seen what I saw next.
Jasper Black was on my sofa with a woman. The woman was wearing pink stilettos and nothing else and she was on her hands and knees and Jasper had his thing up her. The woman was shouting. Ow yeah she was shouting. Fuck me you posh bugger I deserve it it’s all I’m good for. Jasper was whacking her with the back of his hand. Her arse was all red you could see the bruises starting. The woman had one hand up underneath her she was playing with herself. I watched them going at it. I felt so confused with the pills and the booze I thought maybe I was imagining the whole thing. So I stepped back into the hallway and I went up to the coats. I touched them with my hands. I put the silk lining of the woman’s coat up against my cheek. It felt so soft and cool. I thought about putting the coat on and walking out in the night all the way to the Thames and drowning myself like a kitten in a priceless sack. I probably would of done it as well. If it hadn’t been for the curfew I mean.
I tiptoed back to the lounge and I watched them for a long time through the gap in the door. My lounge smelled of sex. The telly was showing
Murder Detectives
but neither of them was watching. There was a lot more shouting. Jasper was calling the woman a DIRTY WORKING-CLASS SLUT. Then they both just went uh uh uh. When it was finished they collapsed facedown on my sofa. Jasper was panting and the woman was giggling. She reached down for a bottle of champagne that was open on the floor. I never did like champagne. She took a long drink of it and passed it to Jasper. She giggled again. It was a horrible sound like a hacksaw going through
pipes. Jesus Christ Jasper she said you are a sick bastard that was fucking unbelievable.
—Oh hello Jasper I didn’t recognise you from behind.
They both spun round then and saw me and the woman screamed. She pulled a cushion up to cover her tits which seemed a bit silly considering I’d practically seen her insides. Jasper jumped up and he put his hands over his bits. He stared at me. He couldn’t work out who I was.
—It’s me Jasper. I’ve got a new job. This is my new look. Do you like it?
I watched his eyes go even wider.
—Oh god, he said. Oh god oh god oh god. I thought you were in hospital.
—Well I was. But I’m back now aren’t I? I’m pleased you found a use for my spare keys. Make yourself at home there’s fish fingers in the freezer if you’re hungry. Don’t mind me I’ll just be tidying a few things up. This is the first time I’ve been home you see since my husband and my boy got blown up and burned to death and I ought to start putting their things into boxes.
The woman stared at me then she looked at Jasper.
—Oh Jasper you absolute cunt, she said.
She burst into tears and I turned around and went into the kitchen. It was nice and tidy in there just the way I’d left it. There was the bottle of vodka in the freezer where it always lived. I took down a glass and I poured myself a shot. The vodka was cold and lazy. It poured slowly like water in a dream. I let about an inch go into the glass and I drank it straight down. I took out 2 more of the Valiums and I put them in my mouth. They lay there hard under my tongue like I was an oyster and these were my pearls. I poured more vodka into the glass and drank down the pills. I didn’t give a monkey’s any more. I just sat at the kitchen table waiting for the pills to work. I was looking at my boy’s drawings on the wall. I wished I’d remembered to write on them what they were meant to be. After the
longest time the woman came into the kitchen. I heard her walk in and stand behind my chair but I didn’t turn around.
—Look, she said. I really don’t know what to say.
Her voice was amazing. It was comedy posh. It was the sort of voice corgis would obey without question. I laughed I couldn’t help myself.
—No please, said the woman. I think perhaps I owe you an apology.
I still didn’t turn around. I was so empty there were tears running down my face but I didn’t feel anything.
—It’s alright. I’m sure you’re very sorry and everything I don’t blame you I don’t even care really so why don’t you just fuck off?
—Um, said the woman. Well I’m afraid we can’t just fuck off. Much as we’d love to. There’s the curfew. It’s gone midnight. I realise these are absolutely appalling circumstances but I’m afraid you’re stuck with Jasper and me for the night.
I turned round then and I looked at her. I couldn’t help gasping. The woman looked just like me. She was wearing my pink bathrobe and her pink stilettos. She was about my height and she had my figure. Long legs. Small tits. Big eyes. Thin neck. Maybe a few pounds lighter. Her hair was the same colour blond as mine except it was cut very long and pretty and it shone like in the adverts. Like each hair had been individually polished by tiny angels. God knows what she used on it and it must of cost a packet. But it was her eyes that made me gasp. They were my eyes it was as simple as that. Her cheeks were pink from the sex and the champagne. She looked back at me and I could tell she could see the same thing. Even though I must of looked a state with my Lady Di hair and my mascara running. It was obvious. The woman shrugged.
—Oh dear, she said. I suppose we must be Jasper’s type. I’m Petra Sutherland by the way. I’ve heard so much about you.
—Yeah? Well. There isn’t much to say about me really.
She leaned back and put her elbows on the work surface behind her.
—I’m sure you’re right, she said. But I wish you’d tell Jasper that. The silly boy is obsessed by you. He’s in your bathroom crying his eyes out. He’s absolutely devastated. He won’t stop gibbering on about how he’s hurt you.
I looked at her. I didn’t feel hurt. In fact I didn’t feel anything. The vodka and the Valium were starting to work.
—Petra. Fancy that eh? I never thought I’d meet his girlfriend.
She sighed and looked at me like I was a ciggie she’d of liked to knock the ash off.
—Girlfriend is such a neat little word, she said.
—Yeah well what are you then?
—I am someone who is having a surreal day, she said. This afternoon I had a light lunch with Salman Rushdie. We drank Côte de Léchet. We discussed V. S. Naipaul and long hair on men.
A police helicopter flew low above the street. It was looking along the footpaths of the estate with a spotlight. The beam flashed across the window for a second. The light on Petra’s face went cold and bright as white cotton pants in the Persil ads. Suddenly I felt angry.
—You people can’t ever just say you’re sorry can you?
Her nostrils flared and that voice of hers changed. It still sounded of money but now it was dirty money. Money people carry in Reebok holdalls in nightclub car parks.
—Why should I be sorry you poor cow? she said. I don’t see why I should have to apologise to you. Am I the one who started this? No. You are. You fucked Jasper. And you a married woman. While your husband and your son lay dying you were right there on your awful Ikea sofa fucking my man. So don’t you dare make me feel ashamed.
I looked at her. I couldn’t see straight. My head was exploding from the pills and the booze. I felt like a plane crash and not one of the especially bright ones. Petra grabbed the vodka bottle out of my hand.
—Give me that, she said.
She took a long drink from the bottle and slammed it back down on the table and spat on my kitchen floor.
—There, she said. That’s what I think of bitches like you.
She turned round and bumped straight into Jasper who was just coming into the kitchen. He was wearing my husband’s black bathrobe. He was chewing his lip. He sniffed. Petra slapped him round the face so hard spit came out of his mouth and splatted on the fridge.