An Hour in the Darkness (2 page)

“That's right. You're like a child, for Chrissake.”

“Don't swear,” I said.

“You make anyone swear. I swear you do.”

I laughed a little and then stroked her hair.

“You always laugh when people are trying to tell you something important,” she said. “Why do you do that? Why won't you listen to the people who love you most?”

“Where did all that come from? Who's trying to sound like the parent now? You're only a child when all is said and done.”

“Oh you make me want to scream. Why can't you ever take things seriously? You're hopeless, you really are.”

“Smelly bum,” I sniggered.

“Oh, you're incorrigible, you really are. Nobody thinks you're being funny, you know.”

“Why are you laughing then?”

“Because you always could make me laugh.”

“I know. Please don't stop laughing until I'm asleep. I don't think I could bear it.”

I fell asleep to the sound of Jenny laughing and when I woke up the next morning she was gone.

A few weeks after I hit my head I finished with Karen.

She came to my house one morning and I just told her we were through. I told her this while she stood freezing on the doorstep, waiting to come into the house. She looked pretty though and a part of me regretted it. Karen hit the roof. She said she hoped I dropped dead or something. I shut the door in her face because I'm not good with confrontation, but she started yelling it all through the letter-box. She said she hated me and had never really wanted to go out with me in the first place. I said I didn't blame her one iota. Karen said her mum thought I was probably neurotic or something. Then she started crying and begged me to take her back. I said I jolly well wouldn't take her back and went and lay down on my bed. In the end I had to put a pillow over my head so I couldn't hear her anymore.

I got over Karen pretty quickly. I'm like that. I pretty much fall in love with a girl a few seconds after meeting her. I tell girls things I know they'll love, like they fill my world and I can't breathe when I'm near them. All kinds of stuff like that. Believe it when I tell you that they can never resist me for too long. For a while I think they're the happiest they've ever been. Then I lose interest all of a sudden. I break their hearts, I think. Jenny said you break a girl's heart when you finish with her. I never feel bad when I break up with girls though. I just feel relieved it's all over. Jenny said that one day when I really fall in love I'll be the one who gets my heart broken. I love it when Jenny gets worked up about breaking girls' hearts like that.

Anyway, I left my parents' home and got a room in the city. I took all my savings from the bank and just went one morning. Mum didn't speak much, but she made me breakfast. When I went outside it was grey and rainy. I got a room above the Angel Gateway. The Angel Gateway is a strange little alleyway that runs between Gallowtree Gate and the market. It sounds beautiful but isn't. In fact, it's just about the most depressing place you'll ever see. I love all that beautiful-sounding-name stuff for places that are as depressing as hell, don't you? I really get off on that sort of thing.

I got real low that first day alone in my new room. It was a Sunday and because Sundays always bothered me I went for a stroll along New Walk. New Walk's about a hundred miles long and my dad used to live there when he was a kid. It's all very serene down there and the houses are so pretty they make you want to get down on the ground and cry.

It felt strange standing outside Dad's old house. I was trying to guess which room he'd slept in when I saw an old woman looking out of a window at me. I think she was surprised to see me standing outside her house like that. I smiled and waved a little to try and smooth things over. I tried to tell her it was the house where my dad was born. I said it too quietly though – like you do when you're talking to people behind glass – and she didn't hear me. I raised my voice a little until I was practically shouting. I tried to tell her everything would be okay; it was just my dad's old house. I didn't want her to think I was just some random lunatic or something. She suddenly put her hands over her face and burst into tears. It must be pretty awful having somebody screaming outside your house like that. I said I was sorry and left.

I was bored, I admit it. I was missing Jenny so much I decided to go to the museum to see Daniel Lambert's chair. Jenny loved to sit in Daniel Lambert's chair and flick her legs out all over the place
.
Old Danny boy was so fat you could get a hundred kids on that chair. And behind the chair, pinned on the wall, was a pair of Danny's trousers. I swear they were about a mile wide. Listen, Daniel Lambert was pretty much Leicester's favourite son back in the good old days.

Danny was a gaoler and used to fight bears in the street. He weighed about a hundred and fifty stone at one point and was the fattest man in the world. Honest to God, old Danny boy once knocked a bear clean out. Apparently, some crazy old American grizzly came to Leicester and killed Danny's favourite dog, and old Danny boy was so upset he socked it on the muzzle and knocked it out cold. Listen, Danny boy was also just about the strongest man in the world back then too, okay?

Anyway, in his later life, Danny boy became a bit of a recluse. He wouldn't come out of his room because he was so ashamed of his weight, which is pretty funny really because that was the reason he became famous in the first place. And, apparently, some feller once went to Danny's room to ask him a question about cock-fighting. You see, old Danny knew more about cock-fighting than anyone else in the world and this feller, who was a really important lord or something, by all accounts, wanted to ask Danny's advice about some minor detail. Well, old Danny boy told his servant to tell this important feller that he wouldn't see him because he was a “shy cock” himself.

Anyway, old Danny got so lonely and poor he had to join a circus to make ends meet. Old Danny boy was really coining it in by all accounts because the good people of Leicester just wanted to come and shake his big goddamn fat hand. Daniel hated the fact he was making money out of the thing he despised most about himself though. Danny was just about the shyest man in the world back then and talking about his weight made him want to crawl away and hide. Listen, this guy had some kind of chronic social phobia or something, okay?

People were always asking Danny what size clothes he wore until it just about made him sick with humiliation. And once, some wise guy asked him how big his trousers were and Danny boy said that if the man went out and brought him a pair then he would know how big they were. Danny boy said it in a real cool way as well by all accounts. It really made me howl when I heard that old Danny had said it like that.

Anyway, when I got to the museum I found you couldn't sit on Danny boy's chair like you used to; somebody had hung some rope across it. His trousers were still pinned on the wall, but I didn't have the heart to stay long. It made me all very depressed again. I hoped that Jenny wouldn't find out about the rope because I knew it would just about break her heart.

So I left the museum and went to see the Jewry Wall. I watched sparrows pecking the grass. I felt awful and wanted to die again like the time in the bathroom. I stayed there for most of the day staring at the wall and the sparrows. Eventually the sparrows left and I was the only one there. I was the saddest person in the whole world by then, I guess. I stayed there so long I saw the streetlamps come on. They glimmered in the gloom like a row of pearls or something. I don't know. Maybe I'm just getting carried away by things. It started to rain, a sorrowful rain; the kind of black rain that goes straight through your clothes to your heart. The light from the streetlamps reflected on the wet pavements next to the grass and I heaved with sickness. It was all pretty tragic when you think about it.

I used to lie in bed with my hands over my mouth so I wouldn't scream. I wanted to scream so badly some nights it was terrifying and the only way I could stop myself was to bite my fingers. I had an unhealthy compulsion around that time to run down the street and scream in people's faces. I think I wanted them to be terrified too. It was scary because you know that as soon as you do it you're finished. Once you start screaming there's no going back. I mean it. Once you give in to it, you're through, because all those people who never noticed you before suddenly will notice you. And the doctors won't leave you alone for the rest of your life. Listen, I'm telling you for your own good. Don't scream, okay?

I used to sit on my bed reading. I must have read about a million books back then. I spent whole days in the Black Cat Bookshop. I can read pretty fast when I'm scared. I read feverishly, I think. No listen, it's true, I can read through the night. It's because I don't sleep too good I know.

I read a book about this guy who was a comedian. It all happened about a million years ago in the good old days of variety entertainment and everything. Apparently, this comedian was just about the funniest guy on the planet back then. I think his name was Charlie Cheeky Boy, or something, I don't know, I can't remember. Anyway, old Charlie had the audience eating out of his goddamn hands he was so funny. He also wore just about the brightest suit you ever saw. I know this because there was a photograph of him and, although it was in black and white, you just knew the suit was real loud by the pattern.

Listen, there's another thing you should know about
Charlie, okay?
He
was risqué.
Listen, this guy was blue. He used to tickle the ladies' fancies back then until they were practically begging him to sleep with them. I don't know, perhaps I made that bit about sleeping with him up. Listen, this chap could make the audiences of today blush. He was bubbly, believe me.

Anyway – and here's the important bit, the part that I couldn't get out of my mind – this cheeky chappie
,
this wise-guy who was always rolling his eyes at the ladies on stage, was chronically shy off it. I swear he was. Listen to me. It was all in the book, okay? This impostor couldn't even hold a proper conversation with you he was so inept socially. Christ, this bloke couldn't even look you in the eye, for Chrissake. The book said that this so-called hotshot had some kind of social phobia. Boy, I just couldn't take it in too well. This charlatan just stayed in his room all day because he was terrified of going out and meeting people.

He never had any friends.
In fact, the author couldn't find one person in the whole damn world who actually knew the guy personally. Christ, all those women screaming at him and he never once had a girlfriend. Listen, he never had a sexual experience in his life. Behind all that laughter, this guy was nothing. He was a one-trick fucking pony and it just about killed me to read about it, okay? You take the laughter away and there's nothing. It's all in the book.

Anyway, I met this really nice girl called Ronnie. Ronnie wasn't just a nice girl, she was
the
girl – you know – the girl you finally meet and fall in love with. I think I fell in love with Ronnie about a split-second after I first saw her. Listen, Ronnie wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world or anything, but she sure was pretty. She had long black hair cascading down her back – yes, cascading – and grey eyes that just about took your breath away. Sometimes, if Ronnie laid her eyes on you without warning, you were done for. One second you were staring at her, thinking she didn't know, and the next second, wham, she'd turn around and look at you. There was no warning, believe me. There were white flecks in Ronnie's eyes that lit up brighter than chalk strokes on a blackboard, and that's me being romantic. Ronnie's eyes could throw you around the room, if you let them. And I think Ronnie knew the effect her eyes had on you, if you really want to know. I think Ronnie did all that eye-flicking stuff on purpose. I think it used to amuse her when all was said and done. Yeah, thinking about it, I reckon old Ronnie was bursting with pride because she knew damn well she could get the whole male population down on their knees if she wanted to.

Ronnie's skin was so white it made you go blind if you looked at her too long. It was that white. It made you rub your eyes like you'd got a welding flash or something. It was like Jenny suddenly bursting into your bedroom at night and turning on the light. Boy, didn't Jenny sure get a kick out of doing that? She'd stand there laughing while you were trying to throw your pillow at her and missing, for Chrissake, because you couldn't keep your eyes open long enough to aim it. Jenny used to shriek like a madwoman, dancing on the heels of her feet and waving her skinny arms around, practically begging you to get out of bed and chase her back to her own room. God bless you, Jenny. Anyway, old Ronnie's skin was brighter than a light that is switched on suddenly, when you're half asleep and it's dark in your room.

Ronnie sure had just about the perfect body too. She wasn't too fat and she wasn't too skinny. Some girls are so skinny they make you want to throw up all over them. They look so damn sickly and everything; it bothers me, okay? Listen, I'm just about the shallowest person you're ever going to meet, okay? I'm not proud of it, of course I'm not, but I probably won't even talk to you if you're ugly. Listen, you'd better understand that if you're real gruesome and you start trying to strike up a conversation with me, I'm very likely going to just walk away from you. I might even run, okay?

You might be just about the cleverest person in the world, maybe even a goddamn genius like Stephen Hawking, or something, I don't know, and you might be trying to tell me all about how the universe started, and everything, but if you're ugly, that's all I'm going to see. You could be on the verge of telling me the secret of life and I'm still going to run away from you before you've finished. You could have a solution to world hunger; I don't care, because listen, I'm still going, okay? I sure hate myself for being so damn shallow sometimes.

Anyway, I think I really messed things up badly that first time I tried to talk to Ronnie. I think she thought I was some kind of mental case or something. I can laugh about it now, of course I can, but it wasn't funny back then. It was my own fault entirely, I admit it. I tried too crazy hard to make her laugh. I was hoping she would love me back, of course. Sometimes young girls just don't want to hear all that crazy stuff, especially when they're working on Leicester market and the boss is looking over their shoulder.

Well, this is how it happened: I was strolling around the market one day – casually if you must know – when I saw her and I just about got down on my knees and cried. I was smashed by her. It felt like my heart detonated inside of me, or something. Dizzy? Let me tell you about dizzy. I swear the ground was moving so fast I had to grab hold of a stall to stop myself from falling. My eyes were crawling all over her. (Hey, I'm not proud of that, okay?) My poor head was spinning so much I thought I was in a spin-dryer. I stood looking at her for about a hundred years or more.

I started humming love songs, real loud too, hoping that she would hear me. I was trying to impress her, I guess. And she did hear me because she kind of glanced over in my direction. She was trying to see where all the gorgeous tunes were coming from. After about a million years I plucked up the courage to say a few words to her. You know, break the ice a little, chew the fat, and get to know her.

Anyway, it started well enough, but then it got out of hand, unravelled away from me, if you like. Listen, if you're trying to sell fruit to the nation and some lame-brained mental case tries to strike up a conversation with you, it stands to reason you're going to get annoyed about it, okay? I understand that now, of course I do, but I didn't understand it then. If you're trying to shovel fruit into the bag of Customer A, you're going to be pretty annoyed if Customer B
(i.e. me) is trying to make you fall in love with them.

Anyway, I tried to strike up a conversation with her.

“Say, what's your name, fruit lady?”

As soon as I said it I knew it was a mistake because she gave me a real sour look.

“Are you talking to me?” she snapped.

“Of course, love of my life. So, what's your name, pretty one?”

I looked away as I said it and yawned. I was trying to look bored. Romantically I was at my best.

“Ronnie. What's yours?”

When she told me her name was Ronnie she wasn't even looking at me anymore. She'd started serving customers again and it annoyed me a little, to tell you the truth, even though I knew it was her job and everything. Her boss was already starting to hang around in the background. He was cleaning his teeth with a matchstick.

Anyway, I started it up again. I was love-struck, I admit it.

“Ronnie? Say, isn't that a man's name?”

I said it with a damn fine twinkle in my eye too because girls love that sort of thing.

Ronnie didn't answer me, but I loved her anyway. I think she didn't answer me because she didn't realise I was still talking to her. I'd said it all too quietly, more to myself really. It was also because she was busy shuffling potatoes into someone's bag and messing it up pretty badly, if you want to know, because some of them rolled on to the ground. I was sure sore as hell that she'd missed the twinkle in my eye.

“I said isn't that a man's name or something?”

I shouted it the second time and about as loud as I could so that she would hear me.

“Sorry?”

She did hear me. Christ, I think everybody heard me. Her boss sure as hell heard me because he started giving me the daggers.

Ronnie looked like she hated my guts or something. I think she was a little annoyed because she'd dropped the potatoes on the floor and the customer had yelled at her as if they were diamonds or something. Customers can get really worked up about those things. Believe me, I know. Listen, even my mum can get pretty sore at somebody if they don't put the potatoes into her bag well enough, okay?

“Ronnie! Isn't that a man's name?
For Chrissake
.” I said it real quietly again the third time. I was shaking by then, I admit it.

Ronnie looked at me as if I'd gone off my head, bless her. I gave her my best smile – you know – the one that Jenny says I use when I want to get my own way. My eyes were twinkling again as well. I'm like that. I can just switch it on whenever the mood takes me. I can be as miserable as death one minute and then start with the twinkling eyes and dashing smiles the next. Jenny said you can't be normal if you can change your moods as quickly as that. I told her you get used to it.

“My name's Veronica, but people call me Ronnie. Is there something you want, sir?”

I think she said it loud like that, and called me sir
,
because her boss was standing behind her. Ronnie sure seemed to be looking over her shoulder about a million times when she said it.

“Yes, there is something else. I want to take you by the hand and then run, laughing, to the old Clock Tower and back. Then I want to kiss you on the mouth and marry you.”

Where this gem came from I don't know, but I was pretty damn proud of it, I can tell you. Girls love all that kind of thing. Believe me, I know. My eyes were twinkling so much by then they could have lit up the whole damn city. My mouth was starting to hurt because I was smiling so hard. I was practically grinning like a clown in front of her. The sweat was dripping down my face from the exertion. It was all worth it though. I mean, when you're trying to win the girl of your dreams you've got to pull out all the stops. And believe me, I always do. I have to try so hard it just about tears me in two.

Then Ronnie half smiled and it just about pushed me over. In fact, it just about cleared me out, if you really want to know. It also depressed me because I knew I'd never see that smile again. Sure, I figured there'd be other smiles, but never that first one. I was starting to get choked up about the whole thing. I didn't want to dwell on it too long.

“Are you alright?” said Ronnie.

“No, I'm not,” I said.

I wasn't either. I don't think you ever get over something like that easily.

“Listen, is there something you want to buy because we're pretty busy
and my
boss is looking
?”

Old Ronnie whispered the last part so that her boss wouldn't hear her. She also came a bit nearer to my face when she said it and I almost shouted. People like Ronnie should warn you before they move their face up close like that.

“Listen, Veronica, Ronnie, say, were you named after Ronnie Spector from The
Ronettes? Hey, I sure as hell hope you were because I love The Ronettes. I love that song, ‘Be My Baby'. Christ, Ronnie, please say you were named after Ronnie Spector, so that I don't have to just crawl away and die somewhere. Say, how do you fancy going out walking with me?”

Christ, I sure as hell was pleased with that line. It sure sounded all romantic, and everything, like in the olden days when our parents went courting. I bet my mum went out walking with my dad. God, I kind of felt sorry for old Ronnie, what with all the gorgeous lines I was laying down and my eyes twinkling like goddamn stars or something.

Poor Ronnie never stood a chance from the start.

“Are you a nutcase or something?” she said.

Good old Ronnie; she sure was playing it cool and hard-to-get. Hey listen, I can play it cool too, okay, so I told her about the bang on the head.

“Listen, Ronnie, R.O.N.N.I.E. S.P.E.C.T.O.R., say will you ‘Be My Baby'? No, listen, only kidding. I am a little crazy to be honest. I had a bit of a bang to the old head a few weeks ago, but I'm alright now.
I'm not alright.
I'm feeling as right as rain now, it's just that I get so sad and depressed all the time. I'm lonely, okay, deal with it. No, I get real low sometimes –
all the time
– sinking to the bottom of the sea and then not being able to swim back up. Can't quite manage to reach the surface, if you see what I mean old fruit, old fruit lady? I can see the sky behind the sea, but I can't manage to get to it. Boy, where did all that come from? I reckon I've eaten so much fruit I've turned into a fruit loop. Or a fruit man. Hey, fruit lady, can I be your fruit man? Please God, let me be your fruit man.”

Boy, I was breathing like I'd just run up a mountain or something. I was sweating like a horse.

“Are you weak in the head?” said Ronnie.

“Yes, and strong in the arm.” I showed Ronnie the muscles on my arms. “No, listen, Ronnie, I'm pretty weak most of the time these days because that's how you make me feel.”

“You're crazy.”

“Jenny said I make her laugh.”

I was desperate.

She ran away from me.

I didn't feel too well all of a sudden. I wanted someone to take me home, I suppose. Hearing myself speaking like that had shaken me up a little.

I could see Ronnie talking to her boss across the other side of the stall. She was telling him about me for sure. What hurt most was the frightened look on her face. It really tore me up, if you want to know the truth. I started to cry a little, I think. I wasn't well, I admit it.

Then Ronnie came back and said people like me should be locked up. I told her that was a pretty cruel thing to say, when all is said and done, and especially to someone who obviously wasn't well. Then her frigging boss came from behind the stall and poked me so hard in the chest I nearly fell over. I decided to get away from there pretty quick. Listen, don't believe what they try to tell you. Romance is dead, okay?

I went and sat down by the fountain. Girls can be so cruel sometimes. Ronnie, I mean. I was feeling lousy and my head was hurting. Everything inside was turning black again. It was because I was in love with Ronnie, I know. Listen, when those feelings come around there pretty well isn't much you can do about it.

I watched the water smash like glass on the ground. I was kind of hoping that Jenny was with me and we were kids again. God, I think they were just about the happiest days of my life. I started wishing that Jenny could still be frightened by the water, but I knew she wouldn't be. Listen, I didn't want Jenny to be the sort of person who isn't half scared to death when the water from the fountain smashes on the ground, okay?

There is a poem by old Wendell Holmes that we read at school. There are only two lines I remember:

“A few can touch the magic string, and noisy Fame is proud to win them:- Alas for those that never sing, but die with all their music in them!”

It sure used to make me feel sad when we read those lines. I think it's tragic that a hell of a lot of people die with their music still inside them.

Listen, it doesn't matter if you sing your song and it's terrible, okay? It doesn't matter one iota. All that matters is that you try and sing it. If it's lousy, that's okay. You can live with lousy. For Chrissake, just give it your best shot, won't you? If you don't at least try to sing your song you won't be able to live with yourself. It will eat you up inside and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. There will always be a deep unhappiness inside you no matter how hard you're trying to convince the world that there isn't. And you don't know, it might just be the most beautiful song they've ever heard. God, I think it's really tragic if people don't at least try and sing their goddamn song and all.