It's Only Temporary (16 page)

‘Beautiful,’ I said very quietly.

Stacy and Paul continued to traverse back and forth to Dolly bringing the rest of the boxes but I used the vague excuse of ensuring everything was ‘alright’ in order to stay where I was. As wandered through the rooms I was able to imagine that I was in another place and another time, not present day London.

‘Okey doke, that’s it,’ Paul eventually said. ‘Stace is down stairs and is gonna set the alarm we gotta go.’

‘Ok,’ I said as I reluctantly followed him.

We dropped Paul off and headed back to Henrietta Steet.

‘So, at the risk of sounding all girly. What are you wearing tonight?’ she asked me.

‘Oh, clothes of some sort I would imagine.’ What a strange question.

‘Nope! Not gonna cut it,’ she said as pulled up and turned Dolly off. ‘C’mon.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Your place, I wanna check out your wardrobe.’

I didn’t actually have a wardrobe; I had hangers on pipework mainly.

‘No, no. no and no,’ she said dismissing my trousers one by one. ‘Ah these will do,’ she decided pulling out a pair of black chinos. What shoes you got?’ I pointed to my shoes. ‘Those,’ she decided selecting a pair. ‘Ok now shirts.’

After what felt like an eternity she declared, ‘I just thought you wore this type of shirt to work, they are all equally horrible!’ Don’t you have any, y’know trendy ones?’

‘That’s very unlikely,’ I conceded.

‘Ok, look here’s thirty quid,’ she said pulling some money from her purse.’ Go and get yourself a decent shirt.’

‘No, I can’t take any more money from you!’

‘If you don’t you won’t get in and it will spoil the night.’

‘How?’

‘Well you won’t be there.’

Was that such a bad thing? I thought to myself. ‘Maybe that’s for the best, they are not really my cup of tea, nightclubs. Y’know.’

‘Look not everything is gonna be Earl Grey in life is it? Give it a go, you might enjoy it! Anyway the girls and Paul are paying you in, this is my contribution. We all want you to come, I want you to come. In a trendy shirt!’ she said thrusting the money at me.

Chapter 13.

Standing in a men’s wear store on the high street was yet another trip into the surreal. I was used to buying my clothes online and was unsure about how to go about identifying what I wanted to purchase from the multitude of racks that seemed to be crammed into every corner of the shop. Added to that was the fact that everyone else in there seemed to be under the age of twelve resulted in me feeling somewhat perplexed.

‘You alright there?’ a young man dressed head to toe in black asked me, I was unsure if he was a customer or a member of staff.

My response of ‘No, I think I am in hell,’ made him pause for a moment before he said, ‘Looking for anything specific?’

Well of course I was! I wouldn’t be standing in the high street version of an explosion in a fabric factory if I was not.

‘A shirt,’ I offered.

‘Right, ok. Any particular sort?’

‘One to wear.’

A pause then, ‘Yeah sure. Got a style in mind?’

‘Sleeves and a collar?’ Was all I could think of. Then I had an inspiration, ‘Something trendy? For a nightclub?’

‘Ah, now we’re talking! What colour trousers will you be wearing?’

‘Black.’

‘Excellent, safe choice. Goes with everything!’ he stated confidently. ‘What type of look are you going for?’

Look? How on earth was I supposed to answer that? I didn’t even understand the question let alone have an answer.  ‘What does that mean?’

‘Flash? Muscle? Old school?’

None of these things meant anything to me and all sounded hideous, ‘None idiotic?’ I tried.

‘Ah straight, ok no worries.’ He led me to a corner of the shop that did not seem to differ in any way from the rest of it. ‘These are the more…..conventional styles.’ Conventional was a word I liked, things were looking up. ‘Colour?’

‘What about it?’

‘Which one?’ he said gesturing to a rail that contained a kaleidoscope of colours.

‘White?’ I suggested.

He frowned, ‘Ermm nightclub, neon’s. Probably best not if you want to keep a low profile.’

Not having a clue what he had just said to me I replied, ‘Ok, what would you suggest?’

‘For you?’

Well yes! Who else were we talking about? ‘That would seem sensible,’ I said.

‘Ok, this one,’ he said pulling a shirt from the rack. ‘Light yellow, neon’s won’t touch it, understated, goes with black.’

‘How much?’

‘Twenty five quid.’

‘I’ll take it.’

Escaping from the shop with my new purchase I indulged in a nearly passable coffee at the optimistically named Super Coffee with my five pounds change.

‘Been shopping?’ a female voice asked.

I turned only half aware that I was now becoming used to responding to inane statements of the obvious.

‘Err, yeah!’ the sarcasm in my voice was clearly evident but died in my throat as I turned to face my questioner, ‘I have actually.’ 

‘Hi, I’m Louise,’ she said extending a hand and flashing a dazzling smile. Louise looked like the type of actress that was used to portray a solicitor in those “Have you been injured? No win no fee!” adverts. Attractive, smart professional dress and perfect makeup, it occurred to me that the only thing she was missing was a pair of glasses and a clip board. 

‘Marcus,’ I said shaking her hand.

‘I always feel it’s best to meet someone in a venue such as this. It’s safe, neutral territory,’ she said.

‘Err sure,’ I had no idea why she had just said that. Surely approaching strange men was a risk regardless of whether you were in Super Coffee or a dimly lit back alley?

‘So single professional,’ she said. At first I thought it was a question but realised it was in fact a statement.

‘Err yeah, actually I am.’

‘Of course you are silly!’ she said with a slight nervous laugh. ‘I knew that!’

Compared to my surreal experience in the men’s wear shop this was rapidly heading for bizarre. I could only assume that she had noticed I did not wear a wedding ring and that my demeanour gave me away as an educated professional. She must have been very astute if a little weird I thought, unsure of what to say next I tried, ‘And you?’

She lost her smile for a moment, ‘Can’t you remember?’ she asked.

I was lost now, how could I remember the details of someone I had never met? I started to worry that she might be in some way deranged, was I at risk here? I looked around for a carer but as no one was paying us the slightest attention. I quickly reviewed my options, play along and subtly make my escape or run from the coffee shop as fast as I could and try not to scream as I did so. For the time being I elected to play along and try and extricate myself with the minimum of disruption, anyway if I ran she may have chased me.

‘Single professional as well of course!’ she said.

‘Really?…..professional what?’ Psychopath? I didn’t add.

‘I’m into drugs.’

Oh lord! She had made that revelation so nonchalantly it sent a shiver down my spine.

‘Actually I’m a dealer,’ she added. Every fibre of my being screamed at me to run, not only was she a psychopath, she was a drugged up psychopath!

She laughed, ‘I’m only teasing!’

I did not care, I just wanted as far away from this woman as quickly as possible.

‘So what about you?’ she asked.

‘Errm, academic.’ I said not wanting to give away anything about myself.

‘Really?’ Worryingly that seemed to have increased her interest. I needed to say something else that would make me seem boring, as hard as that was.

‘Yeah, I study……DNA.’ DNA? Why had I said that?

‘Really?’ again she seemed interested. ‘As in human
DNA?’

Not if that is what you are interested in, ‘No. err…..animals.’ Animals? I knew nothing about animals let alone their
DNA.

‘That’s fascinating.’

Oh god!

‘Have you been involved in any toxicology tests?’

‘Err no.’

Help, help help! Anyone help!

‘How do you extract the DNA? Do you just use hairs and surface contact or do you do invasive procedures to get to the vital organs? She looked very animated as she asked this, maybe she was a serial killer?

I ran from the shop.

When she had stopped laughing Stacy attempted to sympathise, she had called me on the mobile she had given me to ensure I was not backing out and check that I had in fact bought a shirt. She gave me directions and advised that we would all meet up outside the club.

It was about two hours before the sun went down when I set off walking, the evening was pleasant and I elected to stroll. I tried to push the encounter with Louise to the back of my mind but I was convinced I was suffering from paranoia as on several occasions’ people who had overtaken me on the street due to my slow pace seemed to look back at me a
nd giggle or shake their heads. At one point I stood in front of a shop window to check my reflection and although I looked at bit conspicuous it was no more so than anyone else on the street. It must be my imagination after the traumatic event I decided.

Taking my time as much as I could I was dismayed to reach our rendezvous far more quickly than I had hoped, I was still the last one to arrive but was anticipating several hours torture ahead.

‘Where have you been?’ Stacy chided. ‘Oh you numpty Marcus! Turn around.’

Slightly taken aback by this verbal onslaught I did as I was told. Stacy began to fiddle with the collar of my shirt eventually extracting a label.

‘The bleedin price tag was still on it! What are you like?’

‘Ah, I hadn’t realised,’ I said.

‘Well you look smart enough now, good choice.’

‘Thank you.’ She seemed to be waiting for me to say something but I had no idea what. I was about to fill the conversational gap by asking where Max was when she said, ‘So how do I look?’ gesturing at herself with a two handed  downward sweeping motion.

She was dressed in a short tight blue dress and matching high heels, it was the first time I had seen her with make up on.

‘Different,’ I said truthfully.

This was evidently not the answer she had hoped for, ‘Different?’ she repeated. Her smile vanished and she said ‘Right lets go in.’ As she walked away Paul who had been standing behind her looked at me, put his hand over his eyes and shook his head. I shrugged as if to ask what the issue was and he just smiled and followed Stacy.

The inside of the club was not as bad as I had anticipated, there were plenty of empty seats and the music was not too loud, it was certainly quieter than Alfie’s dustbin banging chimps. Stacy and the girls had decided to visit the ladies room and Paul bought me a drink. As we sat ourselves down he said ‘Different? Nice one mate!’

‘Well she does look different,’ I protested.

‘Course she does, she’s in a club. Listen try and subtly slot “You look nice” into the conversation ok?’

‘Ah, I see.’ Stacy had been seeking confirmation that her appearance was acceptable, surely she knew that?

As they returned from the ladies Stacy sat next to me, ‘Ok?’ she asked seemingly prepared to overlook my fashion advice slip up.

Paul nudged me, ‘You look nice,’ I blurted. Paul looked away in disgust.

‘I thought it was different?’ she said.

‘Well yes it is, nicely different though.’

‘So I don’t normally look nice?’

‘No, yes! Both….’

‘Marcus dude, land the plane before it crashes mate!’ Paul whispered in my ear.

Stacy was looking at me as if I had dropped to earth from a great height. ‘What I mean is you always look nice but tonight you look different
and
nice.’

‘So you like it then?’

‘Like what?’

‘My dress?’

‘Yes it’s…..nice.’

‘Time for the parachutes,’ Paul said.

Desperate to change the subject I said, ‘It’s quite errr….nice in here.’

Stacy seemed to have
either swallowed something unpleasant or was trying not to laugh, ‘Yeah, it is ….. nice. I guess? You like it?’

‘Hmmm, it’s not as loud or crowded as I thought.’

Two hours later I felt like I was trapped in a human sardine can with pounding music, this must be the type of training Special Forces used to help them withstand torture if captured. I made for the one place I thought might offer me sanctuary, the toilet.