See, I didn’t know anything about anything then. I thought I knew things, but I didn’t.
Maureen
I didn’t think I’d ever be able to go back to the church again after the interview with Linda. I’d been thinking about it a bit, the day before; I missed it terribly, and I wondered whether God would really mind if I just sat at the back and didn’t go to confession—sneaked out somehow before communion. But once I’d told Linda that I’d seen an angel, I knew that I’d have to keep away, that I wouldn’t be able to go back before I died. I didn’t know exactly what sin I’d committed, but I was sure that sins involving making up angels were mortal.
I still thought I was going to kill myself when the six weeks were up; what would have changed my mind? I was busier than I’d ever been, what with the press interviews and the meetings, and I suppose that took my mind off things. But all the running around just felt like last-minute activity, as if I had some things to get done before I went on holiday. That was who I was, then: a person who was going to kill herself soon, the moment I could get round to it.
I was going to say that I saw the first little glimmer of light that day, the day of the interview with Linda, but it wasn’t really like that. It was more as if I’d already chosen what I was going to watch on TV; and I was beginning to look forward to it, and then noticed that there was something else on that might be more interesting. I don’t know about you, but choice isn’t always what I want. You can end up flicking between one channel and another, and not watching either programme properly. I don’t know how people with the cable television cope.
What happened was that after the interview, I found myself talking to JJ. He was going back to his flat, and I was heading towards the bus stop, and we ended up walking along together. I’m not sure he wanted to, really, because we’ve hardly spoken since I slapped that man on New Year’s Eve, but it was one of those awkward situations where I was walking five paces behind him, so he stopped for me.
“That was kind of hard, wasn’t it?” he said, and I was surprised, because I thought I was the only one who’d found it difficult.
“I hate lies,” I said.
He looked at me and laughed, and then I remembered about his lie.
“No offence,” I said. “I lied too. I lied about the angel. And I lied to Matty, as well. About going to a party on New Year’s Eve. And to the people in the respite home.”
“God’ll forgive you for those, I think.” We walked along a little bit more, and then he said, for no reason that I could tell, “What would it take to change your mind?”
“About what?”
“About… you know. Wanting To End It All.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“If you could make a deal with God, kind of thing. He’s sitting there, the Big Guy, across the table from you. And he’s saying, OK, Maureen, we like you, but we really want you to stay put, on Earth. What can we do to persuade you? What can we offer you?”
“God’s asking me personally?”
“Yeah.”
“If He was asking me personally, He wouldn’t have to offer me anything.”
“Really?”
“If God in His infinite wisdom wanted me to stay on Earth, then how could I ask for anything?”
JJ laughed. “OK, then. Not God.”
“Who, then?”
“A sort of… I don’t know. A sort of cosmic, you know, President. Or Prime Minister. Tony Blair. Someone who can get things done. You don’t have to do what Tony Blair says without asking for something in return.”
“Can he cure Matty?”
“Nope. He can only arrange things.”
“I’d like a holiday.”
“God. You’re a cheap date. You’d choose to live out the rest of your natural life for a week in Florida?”
“I’d like to go abroad. I’ve never been.”
“You’ve never been abroad?”
He said it as though I should be ashamed, and for a moment I was.
“When was the last time you had a holiday?”
“Just before Matty was born.”
“And he’s how old?”
“He’s nineteen.”
“OK. Well, as your manager, I’m going to be asking the Big Guy for a holiday a year. Maybe two.”
“You can’t do that!” I really felt scandalized. I can see now I was taking it all too seriously, but it felt real to me, and it seemed like a holiday a year was too much.
“Trust me,” said JJ. “I know the market. Cosmic Tony won’t blink an eye. Come on, what else?”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask for anything else.”
“Say he does give you two weeks’ holiday a year. Fifty weeks is a long time to wait for it, you know? And you’re not going to get another appointment with Cosmic Tony. You got one shot. Everything you want, you’ve got to ask for in one go.”
“A job.”
“You want a job?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“What kind of job?”
“Anything. Working in a shop, maybe. Anything to get me out of the house.”
I used to work, before Matty was born. I had a job in an office stationer’s in Tufnell Park. I liked it; I liked all the different pens, and sizes of paper and envelopes. I liked my boss. I haven’t worked since.
“OK. Come on, come on.”
“Maybe a bit of a social life. The church has quizzes sometimes. Like pub quizzes, but not in the pub. I’d like to have a go at one of those.”
“Yep, we can allow you a quiz.”
I tried to smile, because I knew JJ was joking a bit, but I was finding the conversation hard. I couldn’t really think of anything very much, and that annoyed me. And it made me feel afraid, in a strange sort of a way. It was like finding a door that you’d never seen before in your own house. Would you want to know what was behind it? Some people would, I’m sure, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to carry on talking about me.
“What about you?” I said to JJ. “What would you say to Cosmic Tony?”
“Ha. I’m not sure, man.” He calls everyone “man”, even if you’re not a man. You get used to it. “Maybe, I don’t know. Live the last fifteen years all over again or something. Finish high school. Forget about music. Become the kind of person who’s happy to settle for what he is, rather than what he wants to be, you know?”
“But Cosmic Tony can’t arrange that.”
“No. Exactly.”
“So you’re worse off than me, really. Cosmic Tony can do things for me, but not for you.”
“No, no, shit, I’m sorry, Maureen. I didn’t mean to imply that. You have a… You have a really hard life, and none of it’s your fault, and everything that’s happened to me is just “cos of my own stupidity, and… There’s no comparison. Really. I’m sorry I ever mentioned it.”
But I wasn’t sorry. I liked thinking about Cosmic Tony much more than I liked thinking about God.
Martin
The headline in Linda’s paper—page one, accompanied by the picture of me flat on my face outside a nightclub—read “FOR HARPS—SEE SHARP”. The story did not, as Linda had promised it would, emphasize the beauty and mystery of our experience on the roof; rather, it chose to concentrate on another angle, namely, the sudden, gratifying and amusing lunacy of a former television personality. The journalist in me suspects that she got the story about right.
“What does that mean?” Jess asked me on the phone that morning.
“It’s an old lager ad,” I said. “ «HARP—STAYS SHARP».”