“Yeah, but I get weird on my own. Confused. That’s sort of how I ended up here.”
“What do you think?” said Martin to the rest of us.
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Maureen. “I’m not leaving the roof, and I won’t change my mind.”
“Fine. We wouldn’t ask you to.”
“Because they’ll come looking for me.”
“Who will?”
“The people in the respite home.”
“So what?” said Jess. “What are they going to do if they can’t find you?”
“They’ll put Matty somewhere terrible.”
“This is the Matty who’s a vegetable? Does he give a shit where he goes?”
Maureen looked at Martin helplessly.
“Is it the money?” said Martin. “Is that why you have to be dead by the morning?”
Jess snorted, but I could see why he had asked the question.
“I only paid for one night,” said Maureen.
“Have you got the money for more than one night?”
“Yes, of course.” The suggestion that she might not seemed to make her a little pissed. Pissed off. Whatever.
“So phone them up and tell them he’ll be staying two.”
Maureen looked at him helplessly again. “Why?”
“Because,” said Jess. “Anyway, there’s fuck all to do up here, is there?”
Martin laughed, kind of.
“Well, is there?” said Jess.
“Nothing I can think of,” said Martin. “Apart from the obvious.”
“Oh, that,” said Jess. “Forget it. The moment’s gone. I can tell. So we’ve got to find something else to do.”
“So even if you’re right, and the moment has passed,” I said, “why do we have to do anything together? Why don’t we go home and watch TV?”
” “Cos I get weird on my own. I told you.”
Why should we care? We didn’t know you half an hour ago. I don’t give much of a fuck about how weird you get on your own.”
So you don’t feel like a bond kind of thing because of what we’ve been through.”
“Nope.”
“You will. I can see us still being friends when we’re all old.” There was a silence. This was clearly not a vision shared by all.
Maureen
I didn’t like it that they were making me sound tight. It wasn’t anything to do with money. I needed one night so I paid for one night. And then someone else would have to pay, but I wouldn’t be around to know.
They didn’t understand, I could tell. I mean, they could understand that I was unhappy. But they couldn’t understand the logic of it. The way they looked at it was this: if I died, Matty would be put in a home somewhere. So why didn’t I just put him in a home and not die? What would the difference be? But that just goes to show that they didn’t understand me, or Matty, or Father Anthony, or anyone at the church. No one I know thinks that way.
These people, though, Martin and JJ and Jess, they’re different from anyone I know. They’re more like the people on television, the people in EastEnders and the other programmes where people know what to say straightaway. I’m not saying they’re bad. I’m saying they’re different. They wouldn’t worry so much about Matty if he was their son. They don’t have the same sense of duty. They don’t have the church. They’d just say, “What’s the difference?” and leave it at that, and maybe they’re right, but they’re not me, and I didn’t know how to tell them that.
They’re not me, but I wish I was them. Maybe not them, exactly, because they’re not so happy either. But I wish I was one of those people, the people who know what to say, the people who can’t see the difference. Because it seems to me that you have more chance of being able to live a life you can stand if you’re like that.
So I didn’t know what to say when Martin asked me if I really wanted to die. The obvious answer was, Yes, yes, of course I do, you fool, that’s why I’ve climbed all these stairs, that’s why I’ve been telling a boy—dear God, a man—who can’t hear me all about a New Year’s Eve party that I’d made up. But there’s another answer, too, isn’t there? And the other answer is, No, of course I don’t, you fool. Please stop me. Please help me. Please make me into the kind of person who wants to live, the kind of person who has a bit missing, maybe. The kind of person who would be able to say, I am entitled to something more than this. Not much more; just something that would have been enough, instead of not quite enough. Because that’s why I was up there—there wasn’t quite enough to stop me.
“Well?” said Martin. “Are you prepared to wait until tomorrow night?”
“What will I tell the people in the home?”
“Have you got the phone number?”
“It’s too late to call them.”
“There’ll be somebody on duty. Give me the number.” He pulled one of those tiny little mobile telephones out of his pocket and turned it on. It started ringing, and he pressed a button and put the phone to his ear. He was listening to a message, I suppose.
“Someone loves you,” said Jess, but he ignored her.
I had the address and phone number written down on my little note. I fished it out of my pocket, but I couldn’t read it in the dark.
“Give it here,” said Martin.
Well, I was embarrassed. It was my little note, my letter, and I didn’t want anyone reading it while I was watching them, but I didn’t know how to say that, and before I knew it, Martin had reached over and snatched it from me.
“Oh, Christ,” he said when he saw it. I could feel myself blushing. “Is this your suicide note?”
Cool. Read it out,” said Jess. “Mine are crap, but I bet hers is worse.”
“Yours are crap?” said JJ. “Meaning, there are like, what, hundreds of them?”
“I’m always writing them,” said Jess. She seemed quite cheerful about it. The two boys looked at her, but they didn’t say anything. You could see what they were thinking, though.
“What?” said Jess.
I imagine that most of us have just written the one,” said Martin.
“I keep changing my mind,” Jess said. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s a big decision.”
“One of the biggest,” Martin said. “Certainly in the top ten.” He was one of those people who sometimes seemed to be joking when he wasn’t, or not joking when he was.
“Anyway. No I won’t be reading this one out.” He was squinting at it to read the number, and then he tapped the number out. And a few seconds later it was all done. He apologized for ringing so late, and then told them something had come up and Matty would be staying for another day, and that was it. The way he said it, it was like he knew they weren’t going to be asking any more questions. If I’d phoned I would have come up with this great long explanation for why I was phoning at four in the morning, something I’d have had to have thought up months ago, and then they would have seen through me and I’d have confessed and ended up going to get Matty out a few hours earlier rather than a day later.
“So,” said JJ. “Maureen’s OK. That just leaves you, Martin. You wanna join in?”
“Well, where is this Chas?” Martin said.
“I dunno,” said Jess. “Some party somewhere. Is that what it depends on? Where he is?”
“Yes. I’d rather f—ing kill myself than try and get a cab to go somewhere in South London at four in the morning,” said Martin.
“He doesn’t know anyone in South London,” Jess said.
“Good,” said Martin. And when he said that, you could tell that, instead of killing ourselves, we were all going to come down from the roof and look for Jess’s boyfriend, or whatever he was. It wasn’t much of a plan, really. But it was the only plan we had, so all we could do was try and make it work.
“Give me your mobile and I’ll make some calls,” said Jess.
So Martin gave her the phone, and she went to the other side of the roof where no one could hear her, and we waited to be told where we were going.