Please Don't Stop The Music Read online

  Jason looked at me out of one eye. ‘So, guess you don’t care if he’s, like, some mass-murderer or something. You want me to come looking if you’re not back by teatime, or are you gonna find that whole loony-tune thing attractive? Eh, Jem, is that what turns you on, that why you’ve not been with anyone? You waiting for some guy that nails bunnies to the wall to get your jollies with?’

  I looked at Jason, who was wearing a Railway World T shirt under a set of grubby and frayed overalls, huge leather boots and enormous gauntlets. ‘Any man that can out-weird you, Jase, is probably gibbering in a locked ward.’ I seized the pram handle. ‘And I don’t want jollies, thanks very much. Just business.’

  His snorting laugh followed me right the way across the rough patch of paddock that we liked to call lawn.

  * * *

  Harry and I, Harry’s pram, changing bag, bottles, fluffy toy and spare nappies, got onto the bus to town. It took a while, with me holding everyone up while I tried to get the pram to fit into the space provided and find the brake pedal to prevent Harry suddenly vanishing down the aisle. Today Harry was resplendent in a crimson fleecy jacket like ‘Little Red Riding Hood, The Early Years’. He sat in state, propped up by pillows, his chubby cheeks wobbling as the bus passed over the speed humps on its way into the town centre.

  When we got off the bus next to the Art Gallery, Harry and I looked at one another.

  ‘Right.’ I tilted the pram so that I could fix him with a steely glare. ‘Please keep your bodily fluids to yourself young man. I’ve got business to discuss.’

  And I wanted a proper look at the skinny bloke. Yesterday’s exploding baby incident, combined with the stress of needing to sell my stuff, had meant that I’d been left with the impression of a skeleton wearing hair and a pair of desperate eyes.

  This time I wasn’t quite as accurate getting Harry down the alleyway and sparks flew as we scraped our way along the brickwork into the yard. Once there the traffic sounds were muted by the buildings. A couple of hanging baskets trailed the smell of rose and honey through the dusty sunshine and a small ginger cat poked its head out from behind a dustbin. It was like a postcard of somewhere in Greece, with the white-painted buildings and the glossy flowers, the black railings with a bike tethered to it and the bench seat. Even the two small shops had a continental look, low roofed with eaves that sloped down to hide the doors in shadow. Having Harry sitting in the middle of it, slightly stained in his scratched pram, definitely lowered the tone.

  Until Ben Davies walked out of his shop doorway, that is.

  He was coming backwards at me down the step, shouting to someone inside. ‘And I’m telling you, I will not sign!’ today wearing a pale grey shirt and faded old jeans. He stuttered onto the cobbles of the yard and swivelled on his heel, which brought him face-to-face with me, at which point he closed his eyes. ‘Oh, God,’ he said with emphasis. ‘Just when I thought I was getting the hang of today.’

  ‘Well, sorry.’ I wasn’t at all and I think my lack of regret might have bled into my expression. ‘I thought I’d better bring the rest of my stuff over. Since you sold the buckle.’

  Ben opened his eyes slowly. ‘Ah, yes, of course. I sold the buckle so you’ve immediately assumed that I’d be able to stock the rest of your collection, which you no doubt have somewhere about your person.’ A quick look at Harry. ‘Or his. What do you do, make him sit on everything like a drug smuggler? Nappy stuffed with crystal, is it?’

  In the doorway to the shop a man appeared. He waved a hand in Ben’s direction.

  ‘I think your friendly neighbourhood lawyer wants another word,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ Ben blinked rapidly at me.

  ‘The man in your shop. I presume he must be a lawyer, or legal in some capacity if he’s got something he wants you to sign. Anyway, he’s wearing a suit.’

  ‘Impeccable logic there. Wearing a suit, must be a lawyer. What do you do for an encore, tell people their birth-sign?’

  Harry made a gurgling noise as though someone had pulled his plug out. ‘I suppose he could be a Man-In-Black.’ I looked at the besuited and bespectacled figure. ‘Seen any good UFOs lately?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to him.’ Ben said tightly. There were tiny lines of stress round his mouth. ‘I’ve said everything I’m going to.’

  ‘OK, well, looks like he’s got other ideas. He’s coming over,’ I just had chance to say before Ben Davies leaned in, grabbed me by the shoulders and began kissing me.

  I didn’t see it coming and I panicked. His claustrophobic closeness, the touch of his mouth on mine; it called to mind memories I’d thought I’d buried, making them rise like dead things surfacing in a lake. I could taste him, a sweet muskiness against my tongue, smell the scent of coconut from his hair. My breath caught, my stomach leapt and I tried to move away but the pram handle was caught between our bodies. It dug into my middle, causing our joint movements to rock Harry dangerously from side-to-side so I had to stand still or risk tipping him out. Just as I was about to grab Ben’s ears and lever him away from my face he moved back half a step, looked deep into my eyes and whispered:

  ‘Has he gone?’

  My breathing stammered in my throat. My heart was attempting to hijack my ribcage, driving my lungs into uselessness. ‘Urrgh,’ was all I could manage to say.

  Ben half turned away until he could see the man still standing on the steps of the shop. ‘Shit.’ His whisper licked against my skin, raised goosebumps and turned my stomach to water. ‘He’s just standing there, staring. Look I’m really sorry about this, but …’ The mouth came down again, but this time it was more gentle and deferential, although his stubble grazed my skin and there was a gap between our bodies that would have given the lie to the situation had anyone come close enough to look.

  This time I was stunned enough to stay still. And despite … well, despite everything, I felt the tiniest tingle inside.

  ‘Now?’

  I answered like a robot. ‘Yes. He’s gone.’

  Ben let me go and stepped away. He blew out a long sigh and combed through his hair with his fingers. ‘He’ll be off to write a report. Great.’ His voice was bitter enough to make his mouth twist. ‘Still, I’ve bought myself some time. Thanks for that, by the way.’

  I breathed out, hard, and wiped my hand across my mouth. Forced myself to relax. It was over. ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘Is that all you have to say? “Don’t mention it”?’

  ‘Well, hold on just a second, I’ll go and look it up in my little book of things to say when some tosser kisses you uninvited, shall I? Oh yes, here we are.’ And I slapped him across the face. Not very hard, I still wanted him to stock my jewellery after all, but hard enough to let him know that I was angry. ‘There. Or would you prefer my original answer?’

  Ben stared at me for a second, putting his hand to his slapped cheek as though he couldn’t believe what I’d done. Then, with a kind of snapping shut movement like a swatted insect he folded down to sit on the shop step, where he hunched himself forward over his knees and began to laugh.

  I watched for a few seconds. ‘You are weird, you are,’ I said.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Ben’s voice was muffled. ‘I’m just … things are crazy right now.’

  ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘You’re the first girl who’s ever slapped me like that. I’m not used to it.’

  ‘Well, with you being God’s gift and all, I’m not surprised.’

  He looked up into my face and the laughs seemed to die in his throat. ‘You really are upset, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to compromise you or anything.’

  ‘Compromise me? How? You haven’t got photographers up on the roofs have you? Waiting to sell pictures of some back-street guitar dealer having a furtive snog? I don’t think even Hello are that desperate.’ Yes. We’d put my expression down to my being disturbed at being kissed by a man I hardly knew. That was easiest.

  ‘Shows what you know.’ Ben s
tood up again. ‘Anyway, I meant with his father.’ He nodded towards Harry. ‘You can tell your – boyfriend, is it? – that it was only to get rid of Dr Michaels. I was just sick of talking to him today and I needed an excuse to get out of the conversation.’

  ‘Firstly, I resent the implication that I’d have to go and blab to any significant other that I got conjugated by a freak up an alleyway and secondly, do I really look like someone who gave birth eight weeks ago?’ I indicated myself. Today I was wearing an old pair of black jeans and a little satin and velvet top, which totally failed to disguise my lack of post-natality. ‘Wouldn’t I be all – you know, bouncy and stuff?’

  Ben looked from me to Harry, then back again. ‘What do you do then, rent him by the day?’

  I gave a deep sigh. ‘Look. I’ve brought my stuff over for you to put on display. If it isn’t too much trouble. That’s all.’

  Ben leaned against the shop. The sun shining on his scruffiness didn’t do him any favours, although it did make his hair shine. ‘No, I’m intrigued now. This peculiar, bossy woman comes to my place and appears to be pushing around a stolen baby. You’ve got to admit it catches at the curiosity.’

  I opened and closed my mouth a few times.

  ‘Ah, right, now you’re speechless.’

  ‘I’m not speechless,’ I protested. ‘I’m just trying not to bite you. Do you have any idea of how unpleasant you are?’

  He tilted his head to one side. ‘Using what scale?’

  ‘How the hell do you ever actually sell anything? Do you glare at people and mutter until they feel they have to buy something just to avoid the Evil Eye? Because you’re not exactly Mr Winning Personality in the salesman stakes, you know.’

  Ben gave a tiny shake of his head. ‘Could I just have a recap – who was it that was weird, again? Because I’m beginning to feel that I’m being seriously outclassed.’

  I bit my tongue, hard. Me being arrested for killing someone (provocation or not) was the sort of thing Saskia would trumpet about until the end of the world. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I just want to know whether you’re interested in stocking the rest of my jewellery.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I slip into Latvian or something? Yes. Y.E.S. I’ll stock your stuff.’

  I opened my mouth a couple of times but the thought-gears wouldn’t mesh. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Drop it in the shop, would you? I’ve got to go out for a bit, be back this afternoon, so if you could lock up and post the keys through the box.’ Self-preservation cut in just in time for me to snatch the keys out of the air before they hit me on the head. ‘Cheers.’ And Ben turned and sauntered out of the alleyway, walking slowly enough for me to notice the quite spectacular tightness of his jeans, as he headed towards the main road.

  ‘Baaawaaaah,’ said Harry, succinctly.

  * * *

  22nd April

  Weather – who cares? Opened the shop, no business, thought of calling an ad through to the paper but – really? Who needs it.

  Okay, yeah, you got me. I kissed her. But only to embarrass you out of doing another ‘you have to come to terms with things’ monologue. And she’s cute, so shoot me, all this celibacy does things to a guy, you know? While I was kissing her – I just wanted a moment, a little fantasy that things were fine. That I was fine. And for that minute, that one sweet minute when she was still and quiet, I could feel her heart, taste her breath, it was like I was real, like I came into existence just for that.

  Hell, she was scared though. I could see her pulse going in her neck like she’d got a rabbit kicking under her skin, and I wish I knew what made her freak like that. I mean – Jesus, I’m not exactly Mister Scary, am I? A six-foot-streak-of-piss. But she recovered well, give her that. Slapped my face and called me unpleasant. It was great.

  And there’s something about Jemima. Something that seems to look through me, makes me twitchy, to tell you the truth. Truth-telling, something I don’t do too much of now, doc, you probably noticed that, yeah?

  I’m guessing that’s what this little exercise is all about. Making me keep a diary, the one place I can be really honest – good thinking. From your perspective. Me? I think honesty was one of those things that died, crawling on the back of comprehension and lucidity. Now I’m hanging in there and things like today make me realise how far I am from having a normal life. Funny, that one kiss from a reluctant stranger can make me see …

  Chapter Four

  I curled up on the sofa and stared into my glass of wine. ‘D’you think I did the right thing?’ I asked Rosie who was leaning over the table, glueing dried leaves onto card fascias. ‘Leaving my stuff, I mean. He could flog the lot for stupid money and run off.’

  ‘Mmmm. Do you trust him?’ She looked up, her eyes bulgily magnified behind the glasses she wore for close work.

  ‘Yes. No. He’s a bastard.’ I gulped some more cheap Chardonnay. I was really thinking about that forced kiss and my reaction to it, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Rosie.

  ‘Sexy?’ Rosie stuck on a pink-tinted oak leaf, concentrating so hard that her glasses started to slip down her face.

  ‘He’s so skinny, I mean, it’d be like … I dunno, shagging a pogo stick or something. And his clothes! You should have seen them, today he’d got these jeans, right –’

  ‘I should warn you, Jem, I’m taking this as a yes.’

  ‘Huh.’ I held up the bottle. ‘You sure you don’t want a glass?’

  Rosie joggled her bosom at me. ‘Breast feeding.’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t have to swear off everything you enjoy, do you?’

  ‘Believe me, when you’ve got a tiny baby there’s not much that you do enjoy. Or can even bear the thought of.’ She jerked her head up towards the ceiling, as though her chin was on string. ‘Oh, he’s awake again.’

  ‘I didn’t hear him.’ But two seconds later I did, as Harry’s wails floated through the substantial structure of the cottage. ‘Do you want me to go?’

  ‘No.’ Rosie sighed and took her glasses off. ‘I’ll try another feed, that might settle him.’

  ‘Anything I can do on the card front while you’re gone?’

  She gave a long, slow blink as though her eyes were tired. ‘It’s all fine. I’ll get Harry off again and come and finish these. Saskia wants them all by the day after tomorrow, so I’ll have to make it a late one tonight.’

  ‘Woah, I thought you said she wanted them by the weekend – even that would be going some.’

  ‘She changed her mind.’ Rubbing her back wearily, Rosie began climbing the stairs. I heard her go in to Harry with a rather curt, ‘Now what do you want?’ and then the rocking sound of Harry being fetched from his cot. There was a loud creak as she sat on the edge of her bed, and then a silence which lasted until I’d finished my wine. I went up and peeped through her door. Rosie was stretched on the bed, fully dressed and fast asleep, with Harry alongside her, nipple still in mouth. His eyes were screwed tight shut and his tiny starfish hands had relaxed into sleep. I picked him up gently and laid him in the cot. Apart from a momentary jerk as the cool sheets touched the back of his head, he didn’t move. I covered him and then his mother, although I drew the line at tucking her boob back into her dress. I pulled her duvet up and turned out the light. Then I went into my own room and flopped down on the divan.

  Wine buzzed pleasantly around my head and gave rise to a pretty little fantasy, where my jewellery was discovered by a hugely wealthy woman – make that Madonna – who dragged me from obscurity to follow her around the circuit as her personal designer. Reality tried to intrude by asking what the hell Madonna would be doing hanging around Ben Davies’ backstreet establishment, but I ignored it, and fell asleep to pleasant imaginings of a villa in Portugal, returning to Britain only to annoy Saskia with my new, famous friends.

  At three o’clock in the morning I was woken by Harry. I pulled my pillow across my ears and reminded myself how lucky I was t
o have a roof over my head. Did a few nights of disturbed sleep really matter that much, in the scheme of things?

  Harry let rip with another screaming bellow. How did Rosie stand it? In fact … I took the pillow away from my ears to check … why hadn’t she gone to him? Rosie hated to hear Harry cry; she’d normally haul him up onto her shoulder at the merest hint of a grizzle.

  ‘Rosie?’ I got out of bed and whispered against the wall. ‘Hello?’

  Harry, hearing me, redoubled his efforts. I went across the landing and into the room in case Rosie had been stricken and confined to bed or something. She wasn’t there.

  ‘Rosie?’ Picking Harry’s warm, wet body out of his cot, I held him against me. He shuddered with the force of his crying, twisting his head away from me in rejection. ‘Sssshh. It’s all right.’ I tried to soothe the baby, but all I could think was that something was very wrong. Rosie never let Harry cry himself into a state.

  I tiptoed down the stairs, Harry’s little fists clenched in my hair and his forehead banging against me like a heavy metal music fan listening to Motorhead. Rosie was downstairs, hunched over the table brushing powder paint over seed heads.

  ‘Rosie? What’s up, couldn’t you hear him?’ I touched her on the shoulder and went to pass Harry over, but she cringed away, holding up her camel-hair brush to ward me off.

  ‘I … I just can’t cope with him right now, Jem. That’s all. I thought … I thought he’d go back off to sleep after a while. I really need to get these cards done.’

  Her face was blotchy and streaked in the miserable light from the tablelamp. ‘Are you OK?’

  A frantic, desperate nod. ‘I’ll be fine. Honestly. I just need to do these cards otherwise Saskia won’t let me keep supplying her. If I get all this done tonight I’ve only got the last bits to finish off before I deliver them.’ She was avoiding looking at Harry. ‘There’s a bottle in the fridge, will you warm it up and feed him? He should go straight back down afterwards, and then I –’

  ‘Rosie.’ I spoke carefully but insistently until she met my eye. ‘I’ll gladly feed Harry and change him and settle him and anything else his little heart desires. But, and I want you to listen to me, but, I will only do it if you agree to go back to bed. Now.’