So I said, Well, never mind, as long as you’ve got a kettle and some Corn Flakes. And he went, I haven’t, so I was like, What have you got to hide? And he said, Nothing, but he said it in a funny way, an embarrassed, hiding sort of a way. And then I remembered something from before which I thought might be relevant and I said, Who was leaving messages for you on your mobile? And he went, Nobody. And I said, Is that Mr Nobody or maybe Miss Nobody? And he said, Just nobody. So I wanted to know why he didn’t want to invite us back, and he went, Because I don’t know you. And I said, Yeah, like you didn’t know that fifteen-year-old. And then he said, as if he was angry, OK. Yeah. Let’s go to mine. Why not?
And so we did.
JJ
I know I’d had that bonding moment with Maureen when she’d smacked Chas, but to tell you the truth I was working on the assumption that if we all made it through to breakfast time, then my new band would split up due to musical differences. Breakfast time would mean that we’d made it through to a new dawn, new hope, a new year, tra la la. And no offense meant, but I really didn’t want to be seen in daylight with these people, if you know what I mean—especially with… some of “em. But breakfast and daylight were still a couple of hours away, so it felt to me like I had no real choice but to go with them back to Martin’s place. To do anything else would have been mean and unfriendly, and I still didn’t trust myself to spend too much time on my own.
Martin lived in a little villagey part of Islington, right around the corner from Tony Blair’s old house, and really not the kind of “hood you’d choose if you’d fallen on hard times, as Martin was supposed to have done. He paid the cab fare, and we followed him up the front steps to his house. I could see three or four front-door bells, so I could tell it wasn’t all his, but I couldn’t have afforded to live there.
Before he put his key in the lock, he paused and turned around.
“Listen,” he said, and then he didn’t say anything, so we listened.
“I don’t hear anything,” said Jess.
“No, I didn’t mean that sort of listen. I meant, Listen, I’m going to tell you something.”
“Go on, then,” said Jess. “Spit it out.”
“It’s very late. So just… be respectful of the neighbours.”
“That’s it?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “There’ll probably be someone in there.”
“In your flat?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know what you’d call her. My date. Whatever.”
“You had a date for the evening?” I tried to keep my voice in neutral, but, you know, Jesus… What kind of evening had she had? One moment you’re sitting in a club or whatever, the next he’s disappeared because he wants to jump off a building.
“Yes. What of it?”
“Nothing. Just…” There was no need to say any more. We could leave the rest to the imagination.
“Fucking hell,” said Jess. “What kind of date ends up with you sitting on the fucking ledge of a tower-block?”
“An unsuccessful one,” said Martin.
“I should think it was fucking unsuccessful,” said Jess.
“Yes,” said Martin. “That’s why I described it as such.”
He opened the door to his flat and ushered us in ahead of him; so we saw the girl sitting on the sofa a moment before he did. She was maybe ten or fifteen years younger than him, and pretty, in a kind of bimbo TV weather-girl way; she was wearing an expensive-looking black dress, and she’d been crying a whole lot. She stared at us, and then at him.
“Where have you been?” She was trying to keep it light, but she couldn’t quite pull it off.
“Just out. Met some…” He gestured at us.
“Met some who?”
“You know. People.”
“And that’s why you left in the middle of the evening?”
“No. I didn’t know I was going to run into this crowd when I left.”
“And which crowd are they?” said the girl.
I wanted to hear Martin answer the question, because it might have been funny, but Jess interrupted.
“You’re Penny Chambers,” said Jess.
She didn’t say anything, probably because she knew that already. We stared at her.
“Penny Chambers,” said Maureen. She was gaping like a fucking fish.
Penny Chambers still didn’t say anything, for the same reasons as before.
“Rise and Shine with Penny and Martin ,” said Maureen.
No response for a third time. I don’t know much about English television stars, but I got it. If Martin was Regis, then Penny was Kathy Lee. The English Regis had been nailing the English Kathy Lee, and then disappeared to kill himself. That was pretty fucking hilarious, you have to admit.
“Are you two going out?” Jess asked her.
“You’d better ask him,” said Penny. “He’s the one who vanished in the middle of a dinner party.”
“Are you two going out?” Jess asked him.
“I’m sorry,” said Martin.
“Answer the question,” said Penny. “I’m interested.”
“This isn’t really the time to talk about it,” said Martin.
“So there’s clearly some doubt,” Penny said. “Which is news to me.”
“It’s complicated,” said Martin. “You knew that.”
“Nope.”
“You knew I wasn’t happy.”
“Yes, I knew you weren’t happy. But I didn’t know you were unhappy about me.”
“I wasn’t… It’s not… Can we talk later? In private?”
He stopped, and gestured around the room again at the three staring faces. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that, as a rule, potential suicides tend to be pretty self-absorbed: those last few weeks, it’s pretty much all me me me. So we were gulping this shit down a) because it was not about us and b) because it was not a conversation likely to depress the hell out of us. It was, for the moment, just a fight between a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and it was taking us out of ourselves.
“And when will we be in private?”
“Soon. But probably not immediately.”
“Right. And what do we talk about in the meantime? With your three friends here?”
No one knew what to say to that. Martin was the host, so it was up to him to find the common ground. And good luck to him.
“I think you should call Tom and Christine,” said Penny.
“Yeah, I will. Tomorrow.”
“They must think you’re so rude.”
“Who are Tom and Christine? The people you were having dinner with?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell them?”
“He told them he was going to the toilet,” said Penny.
Jess burst out laughing. Martin glanced at her, replayed in his head the lame excuse he’d used, and then smirked, very briefly, at his shoes. It was a weirdly familiar moment. You know when you’re being torn a new asshole by your dad for some crime you’ve committed, while a pal watches and tries not to laugh? And you try not to catch his eye, because then you’ll laugh too? Well, that’s what it was like. Anyway, Penny spotted the little-boy smirk and flew across the room at the little boy in question. He grabbed her wrists to prevent her from hitting him.
“How dare you find it funny.”
“I’m sorry. Really. I know it’s not funny in any way.” He tried to hug her, but she pushed herself away from him and sat down again.
“We need a drink,” said Martin. “Would you mind if they stayed for one?”
I’ll take a drink off just about anybody in any situation, but even I wasn’t sure whether to take this one. In the end, though, I was just too thirsty.
Martin
It was only when we got back to the flat that I had any recollection of describing Penny as a right bitch who would fuck anybody and snort anything. But when had I said that? I spent the next thirty minutes or so praying that it had been before Jess’s arrival, when Maureen and I were on our own; if Jess had heard, then I had no doubt that my opinion of Penny would be passed on.