There was still half an hour before he needed to start work and he went outside for air, walked to the front of the huge curved building and looked out over the Tyne. His parents had left for Spain because they couldn’t stand the weather, but he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. He was proud of the city. He liked telling people he worked at the Sage. To his right and down by the river was the huge bulk of the Baltic Gallery. He remembered it as a decaying warehouse, kittiwakes nesting in the cracked stonework, its facade covered with bird muck. When it had first opened, he’d gone with Samuel Parr to see the Gormley exhibition. He wouldn’t have wanted to go on his own. He was only comfortable backstage. But he’d loved the sculpture, all those figures of twisted metal, fine as spun sugar. Gary had found it odd to be there with Samuel, who was recognized by some of the staff. He was part of the Tyneside arts mafia, the set Gary despised as an alien race when they came into the Sage.
The river was at full tide, moving sluggishly, almost on the turn. On the north bank people were spilling out of the bars. He heard a line of melody, which faded before he could place it, the blast of a car horn. The low sun was reflecting from all the glass and turning the water red. Would Samuel or Clive or Peter Calvert find it strange to see Gary at his work, sat behind the deck, in control of the sounds coming out to the audience, making a difference, a real difference to the experience they had in the brilliant space? They knew him only as a demon sea watcher. They’d been friends for years, but really they knew very little about each other’s lives. They knew he’d fallen for Julie, his childhood sweetheart, with her smile and her easy, comfortable body. They’d never guess he dreamed of the teenage Laura in her short black school skirt. They believed they were the closest of friends, but they all had secrets they would never share.
His mobile beeped to show he had a text message. It was from Julie and he felt a shock of guilt, physical. His face was hot as if he was blushing. What are you doing tonight. He pushed away his daydreams about Laura then and answered immediately. Working. Wont be finished til midnight. He had to wait so long for the reply that he’d almost given up. Perhaps she’d been offended, seen it as a rejection rather than a statement of fact. He should have taken more time to compose it. He fretted, putting together another message in his head. It was time for him to go in and do the final check. He always switched off his phone when he was working. Her reply came as he was walking back up the steps, with his back to the river. Ill come and meet you. See you then.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Julie felt that if she didn’t get out of the house she’d scream. She’d stand at the top of the stairs and fill her lungs and open her mouth and the noise would be so loud that you’d hear it at the end of the road. Her mother was still there, cleaning. All day there was the hum of the Hoover, the background stink of bleach and polish, so it didn’t even feel like Julie’s house any more. And when she wasn’t cleaning Mrs Richardson was talking, trying to prod Julie back to life with sharp words and guilt. As if there wasn’t enough guilt around already. Julie had always found it easier to get on with her father. If he’d been there instead of her mother, they could have got pissed together. He’d have sat beside her on the sofa, watching the music channels on TV, telling his old stories about the musicians he’d known, holding her when she wanted to cry.
She couldn’t tell her mother to leave. She thought she was being useful and it would hurt her. Then Julie would feel guilty all over again. So all day she tried to make up an excuse to get out. She concocted a story about being invited to Lisa’s house. Lisa would cook her a meal and Julie would stay over in the spare room. Julie’s mother approved of Lisa, who worked as a secretary for a big firm of solicitors in town. Then Julie went out into the garden and phoned Lisa on her mobile. On the other side of the horses’ field they were cutting grass. She watched the tractor moving backwards and forwards, regular and mesmerizing. She could have watched it all day, but her mam would never have allowed it. She’d see it as idle and self-indulgent and would find Julie something useful to do.
‘If my mother phones, I’m at your house, but I’ve fallen asleep and you don’t want to wake me.’
Lisa was a good mate and didn’t ask questions. She would have cooked Julie a meal and drunk wine with her and let her cry. But Lisa lived in a smart new flat on the front at Tynemouth and it had never been the sort of place where Julie had felt able to kick off her shoes and relax. Telling all these lies made Julie feel like a teenager again. By the end of the afternoon she was exhausted by it all. But she was a little bit excited too. She’d known all along that what she really wanted was to see Gary.
She had a shower before she went out, stood in the bath where Luke had been lying. Before, they’d had an old shower curtain, with pinkish spots of mould along the hem, but the police had taken that away. Her mam had been to Matalan to get another. Julie drew the curtain and shut her eyes to wash her hair. It was the first time since Luke had died. Until then she’d used Sal’s place when she wanted a bath. She took her time getting ready, make-up, a splash of perfume. It wouldn’t make her mother suspicious. She was of a generation when women didn’t go visiting without making a bit of an effort.
Laura was in her room. She seemed to live there these days, only came out to eat and wee. Julie thought she’d been like that even before Luke had died. She knocked, poked her head round the door. Laura was lying on the bed. Not reading, not watching television, just staring at the ceiling.
‘Are you all right, pet?’ Julie sat on the bed.
Laura turned, managed a bit of a smile. Julie thought she should stay in. She was reminded of Luke when he’d started to get depressed. But she couldn’t quite make the decision. If she didn’t get out of the house she’d go mad herself.
‘I was thinking of going out. Lisa’s asked me to hers. Is that all right with you?’
Laura stared at her for a moment before shrugging. ‘Sure.’
Julie thought she could never tell what Laura was thinking, never had been able to.
‘I might stay over. Nan will be here.’
‘I’ll be fine. Really.’
Julie sat in the old Fiat she’d had since Geoff had left, which was held together now with filler and paint. Each year at MOT time there was a crisis and her friend Jan’s mechanic son would work his magic and pull it through. This was another first. She hadn’t driven since Luke had died. She imagined the neighbours looking through their nets, waiting for her to drive away. What would they think? That she was a heartless cow or that she was brave to start putting her life together. She wasn’t sure herself which it was.
It was only eight o’clock but she went straight to the town. There was the usual panic when she hit the motorway at the old BT roundabout. She never knew which lane to take for the bridge. Then in Gateshead she missed the turn for the Sage and ended up in the car park for the Baltic. She couldn’t face going back and stayed where she was. She sat for twenty minutes, her mind quite blank, before buying a ticket at the pay and display machine. Nine o’clock. The light was starting to go. She realized she was relishing the sensation of being alone.
She left the car and walked around the front of the Baltic Gallery. There was some sort of reception in the downstairs bar. Through the long glass windows she saw women in long dresses, men in dinner suits. They were drinking champagne from narrow glasses. A fat woman with very short hair was making a speech. Julie felt as if she’d travelled to a new country, as if these were exotic creatures quite different from her. On an impulse she walked across the new millennium footbridge from Gateshead to Newcastle. She’d never done that before either. She stood in the centre and looked upstream at the arcs and towers of the other bridges, the Tyne, the High Level, the Redheugh, familiar landmarks seen in a completely different light. On the Newcastle Quayside, she pushed her way through the crowd in a bar, just to use the toilet. She wasn’t tempted to stop for a drink. She wanted to be clear-headed when she met up with Gary. She felt a bit mad as it was.