Just in time. Seconds to spare and I'm finally there. I change the channel and sit back to enjoy the film. Looks like it's already begun. Actually, it looks like it's been on for a while. I check the TV listings. Bloody thing started three quarters of an hour ago.
Saturday nights are beginning to depress me. For a while now they've begun to feel empty and, if I'm honest, pathetic. We're still young and we should be out enjoying ourselves but we're not. I always start the weekend with the best of intentions but things never seem to work out how I planned them. Family life gets in the way. I don't have many close friends to go out with or any spare money, the kids wind us up and wear us out and Lizzie and I are both tired all the time. More often than not I'm left sitting here on my own like this in front of the TV watching pointless drivel. It's almost midnight now and I've wasted hours here on my own. Liz got up and went to bed ages ago.
The film I missed was the only thing worth watching tonight. It's crazy - the more TV channels we get, the fewer programmes worth watching there are. I've been sat here with the remote control in my hand constantly flicking through the channels and all I've found has been terrible game shows, chat shows with boring guests, pointless reality TV programmes, soap operas, talent competitions, made-for-TV films, repeated dramas and crappy compilations of CCTV footage and home video clips. I've ended up watching the news as usual. It's a rolling twenty-four hour news channel which was interesting for a while but the headlines are on a fifteen minute loop and my eyes are starting to feel heavy now that I'm watching the same thing for the third time. I should go to bed but I can't be bothered to get up.
Hold on a minute. Finally there's something moderately interesting on screen. A banner saying 'Breaking News' has just appeared and they've cut to a reporter standing on a city centre street corner. I recognise where they're broadcasting from. It's a place in town, not far from where I work. What's happened there? I try to read the scrolling text captions at the bottom of the screen but my eyes are tired and the words are moving too quickly. I turn up the volume and listen as a windswept reporter starts talking about something that's happened at Exodus, one of the trendy bars right in the centre of town. There are people milling around in the street behind him. Christ, someone's been killed. He's talking about an attack that happened in the last hour or so. Hold on, no… there have been several attacks. They must have been connected. Sounds like some lunatic has gone on the rampage. Worst time of the week for it to have happened. The middle of town is always heaving with people on Saturday nights. Everyone's there. Everyone except sad bastards like me, that is, stuck at home with the kids and a partner who's asleep by half-past nine.
I can feel my eyes starting to close again. I try to stay awake and concentrate on what's being said but it's difficult. It's getting late and…
***
That bloody reporter is still talking.
I try and focus on the clock on the shelf. I must have nodded off for a few minutes. Hang on, the clock says three-thirty. I've been asleep on the floor for hours. No wonder my bones ache. Christ, whatever happened in town tonight must have been pretty serious to warrant this much coverage on national TV. It looks like they're still broadcasting live from town. I wouldn't want to have that bloke's job, stuck out on a street corner for hours on end. Still, at least he gets out…
My back hurts. I should have gone to bed hours ago when Lizzie did.
I sit up quickly and get ready to move. I hate waking up like this. I feel sick and my arms and legs feel heavy and numb. I get up and I'm about to switch the TV off when something the reporter says makes me stop. He's not just talking about the same few attacks he was reporting on earlier. Sounds like there's been more trouble. There's a map of the city up on the screen now with a load of markers on it. Looks like there's been a hell of a lot more trouble. That's the problem with binge drinking and Saturday nights. There are so many people out there and it only takes one idiot to start a fight. Someone gets hurt then someone retaliates, someone else tries to stop them and, before you know it, you've got a real problem on your hands. It looks like that's what's happened tonight. From what I can gather there was some trouble in a bar which spilled out onto the street. They're showing footage of crowds of people fighting now, fuelled by drink and drugs. Riot police have been sent to the scene to try and restore some order. Almost makes me glad to be boring and stuck indoors. The map on the screen has been updated now to show the location of four fatalities and more than thirty arrests. It's always the mindless minority who ruin it for everyone else. Bloody hell, they've just said something about the body of a police officer that's been found with more than forty stab wounds. Christ, what kind of animal could do that to another human being?
Wonder how long that reporter's going to be stuck out there?
I'm tired. Before I fall asleep again I switch off the TV and the lights and feel my way through the dark flat to the bedroom.
SUNDAY
iv
Susan Myers woke up next to Charlie, her husband of thirty-three years. She lay in silence in the semi-darkness, taking care not to move. She didn't want him to know that she was awake. She didn't want to have to speak to him. Through half-open eyes she watched the curtain as it gusted back and forth in the wind from the vented window, revealing snatched glimpses of the bright world outside. Was there any point in getting up? During the week she managed to fill her time with friends, shopping and social appointments but her weekends, Sundays in particular, were long, bleak and empty. Since Charlie had retired eleven months ago their lives had become increasingly dull and monotonous. Most of her friends had their children and extended families to keep them busy but all she had was him and he bored her. He seemed happy doing nothing but she couldn't stand it. He wanted to potter around the house and garden, she wanted to be out. She wanted to scream and shout at him and make him understand how she felt but she knew it would be pointless. He didn't even know she was unhappy.
Here we go, she thought as he shuffled and turned over in bed beside her. Maybe - just maybe - he'd roll over to face her this morning and put his arm around her tell her that he loved her and start kissing her and touching her like he used to. It had been so long since they'd made love that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. And on the very rare occasions she'd managed to get him in the mood (she was always the one who had to make the first move these days) he'd get himself so fired-up and over-excited that their passion, if it could be called that, was generally over and done with in a matter of a few desperately short and empty minutes. If it had been months since they'd made love, it had been years since she'd been satisfied.
Maybe she should have an affair? She'd thought about it before but never had the nerve to do it. Charlie probably wouldn't notice if she did. There was a man at one of the mid-week dancing classes she went to who she'd caught looking in her direction too many times for it to have just been coincidence. The idea of seeing someone else tempted her, but she knew she'd be putting a lot at risk if she ever actually did it. She was worried that she might end up losing everything she'd worked for with Charlie just for a little short-term excitement and adventure. She loved her grand house and her expensive clothes and all the associated trimmings. She loved the elevated social status it gave her and she didn't want to let any of it go. But what if the man at the dance class could give her all that and sex too...?