Kirsty came outside and crept up behind Jamie. She put a finger to her lips to quieten Paul, held a fully-inflated balloon behind Jamie’s head and jabbed a sharp fingernail into the balloon’s rubbery flesh.
‘Jesus!’
Jamie dropped his drink and clamped his hand to his heart. Kirsty and Paul rocked with laughter.
‘That’s for leaving Heather and me to do all the hard work. Now, give us a beer.’
She stooped and kissed him and he handed her a lukewarm bottle.
Six hours later, Jamie was standing among a crowd of party-goers feeling queasy but still very happy. He’d long since lost count of how many bottles he’d drunk. He’d also lost the plastic trident that went with his devil’s costume, which consisted of a red T-shirt, red velvet trousers and a matching cloak, plus a pair of plastic horns strapped to his head. People kept asking him if he was feeling horny. He roamed the party, chatting and drinking and laughing and feeling…wonderful. He still couldn’t believe the flat was theirs. All evening, people had told him and Kirsty how lucky they were to find it. This guy called Jason, who ‘dabbled’ in property, told Jamie he’d made a very wise investment. He shook Jamie’s hand. ‘If you ever want to sell,’ he said, ‘I might know a few people.’
But Jamie didn’t care about investments, or property booms, or making a quick profit. He simply loved this flat. It had spirit. It had soul.
‘Soul!’ he shouted, holding his bottle aloft and squeezing between a sailor and James Bond. ‘That’s what we need.’ He bent over the iPod in its dock and found the track he wanted.
The first bars of ‘Get Up’ blared out, and Jamie danced off across the floorboards, ignoring the ground-out fag butts and puddles of spilt beer, looking for Kirsty. He banged into the doorframe on his way out of the room and grinned to himself.
Before finding his girlfriend, he came across Heather, standing outside the bathroom, talking to this guy in trendy glasses who Kirsty knew from somewhere or other. What was his name? Matthew? Or Luke? Something New Testament. Heather was dressed as a St Trinian schoolgirl and her friend was a vampire.
‘Have you seen Kirsty?’ Jamie asked.
Heather shook her head. ‘Last time I saw her she was talking to your neighbour, out the front.’
Jamie thanked her and went out through the front door of the flat and down the hall, which was crammed full of people he’d never seen before. He didn’t know if they were friends of Kirsty’s or gatecrashers. He didn’t really care. He caught sight of Kirsty, standing just inside the front door talking to an older man. He stopped for a second and looked at her in her Catwoman outfit. He wanted to drag her to the bedroom and do delicious things to her.
Pushing his way past a girl dressed as Morticia Addams, Jamie crept up behind Kirsty and blew gently on the back of her neck.
‘I know it’s you,’ she said, turning to give him a hug.
‘This is Brian,’ she said, introducing the man she was talking to. He was in his fifties, with a neatly-trimmed beard and black-framed designer glasses. He was one of the only people at the party who wasn’t in fancy dress. ‘He lives in the top flat.’
‘Hi. Pleased to meet you.’ The two men shook hands. ‘Do you live on your own?’
Brian shook his head. ‘Oh no. My wife, Linda, is here somewhere. Probably chatting up some young bloke, knowing her. This is a great party. I was really pleased to see another young couple move in. We need some more young blood round here. The prices put a lot of young people off.’
‘We were lucky,’ said Jamie.
Brian nodded. ‘I think you were. And I hope I’m not being presumptuous when I say I think we’re lucky to have you. It’s so important when you live in a small block of flats like this to get the right type of people, by which I mean people who are easy to get along with, who are easy-going and who believe you should live and let live. You both seem like you fit the bill, and I hope you won’t prove me wrong.’ Brian raised his bottle. ‘Welcome to Mount Pleasant Street.’
They stood in silence for a moment and looked out at the street. This could almost be a suburban town thirty or forty years ago, the roads were so quiet, the gardens so well-kept, the cars so shiny. But central London was only a ten-minute Tube journey away. They were close to the hub of things, which was where Jamie had always wanted to be. When he moved to London after finishing university he had always imagined himself living in a place like this. For five years he had been stuck in a poky little flat in Camden Town, dreaming of a better place. And now he was here. He had found that better place.
He turned back to Brian. One of their big worries about throwing this party was that they might upset the neighbours. To avoid this, they had invited them all. Brian and Linda had accepted, and judging by Brian’s welcome speech, they had won him over with very little effort. Mary – the woman who lived in the first floor flat – had scribbled them a quick note saying she’d love to come but she’d made other plans and would be out all night. The couple downstairs in the garden flat hadn’t replied. Jamie could see the lights on in their front room and the colourful glow of a TV. Maybe they weren’t party people.
‘What are the other neighbours like?’ he asked Brian.
‘Well, Mary’s lovely. She lives on her own with her cat. Doesn’t seem to get many visitors, but I think that’s because she always goes to them. If you ever want to borrow a cup of sugar, and you can catch her at home, she’s the kind of person who’ll always be happy to help you out.’
‘What about the couple in the basement?’ said Kirsty.
Brian laughed. ‘Oh, you mustn’t call it the basement. I did that once and they got very upset. It’s the garden flat. That’s what I was told. But they’re nice people, very quiet, keep themselves to themselves. Linda and I haven’t had very much to do with them at all.’
‘What are their names?’
‘Lucy and Chris. The Newtons.’
Jamie peered down the steps at the illuminated window. ‘We’ll have to introduce ourselves to them. Soon.’
He noticed Brian studying his beer bottle. It was empty. ‘Do you want another?’
‘Hmm. Please. I’ll come in with you, see if I can find Linda.’
‘And I want to see what Heather’s up to,’ said Kirsty.
They went inside. Kirsty found Heather chatting up the vampire. Jamie led Brian over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. In the living room, people were dancing badly to James Brown.
‘So is this all your furniture?’ Brian asked. ‘A fridge and a stereo?’
‘No. We’re moving the rest of it in tomorrow. I thought it was best to have the party while the flat was empty. Didn’t want anything to get wrecked. Plus there’s more room for everyone.’
‘Very true.’ He paused and sipped his beer. ‘Where did you and Kirsty meet?’
‘In hospital. Kirsty’s a nurse.’
‘And you were her patient?’
‘No. That’s what everyone assumes, and it would be nice to say that our eyes met above a hypodermic needle or that she helped me recover from some terrible illness…’
‘Sitting by the bedside, keeping watch, mopping your brow.’
‘Or she told me to bend over for my injection and fell madly in love. The truth is rather more mundane. I was installing software on the hospital computer system. I saw her and fancied her immediately, so I found out her name and left a message on the terminal for her: NURSE PHILLIPS. I REQUIRE URGENT MEDICAL ATTENTION. PLEASE CALL ME. Tacky, I admit, but it worked. She phoned me the next day.’
‘You’re a very lucky man. She’s very attractive.’
‘I know. Actually, it would have been hard for me to meet her as a patient because she works on the children’s ward.’ He smiled. ‘She told the kids about my message and they teased her about it for months afterwards. Going to give Jamie his medicine, nurse Phillips? Cheeky little sods.’
‘And you’re in computers?’
‘That’s right. I work for a firm that installs and maintains computer systems for organisations like hospitals, schools, local councils, etcetera. It’s not glamorous but it’s alright, you know.’
They spent the next ten minutes talking about computers and the internet. Brian was about to buy a new PC and Jamie said he’d help him set it up if he wanted. He asked Brian what he did for a living.
‘I’m a writer.’
‘Really? Anything I might have come across?’
‘Probably not – unless the kids in Kirsty’s ward are fans. I write young adult horror. The Scarlet Moon series – have you heard of it?’
Jamie was about to respond when they heard the wail of a siren outside, drowning out the music for a moment. The siren ceased and a woman dressed as Cleopatra – who was looking out the front window – turned to her friend, Julius Caesar, and said, ‘It’s the fire brigade.’
Kirsty, Heather and the vampire came into the room, along with Brian’s wife, Linda, and they and everyone else crowded round the front window, looking out as two fire engines pulled up to the kerb. Half-a-dozen fire fighters jumped out and Jamie noticed the looks of puzzlement on their faces. They looked up and down the road. Where was the fire?
Someone said, ‘Maybe there’s a cat stuck up a tree,’ causing a ripple of laughter.
Then Cleopatra said, ‘They’re heading this way.’
Jamie and Kirsty looked at each other, and backed out of the crowd. Paul, who had been out the front, smoking a spliff, hurried into the room and staggered up to Jamie.
‘They want to see you,’ he said.
‘Me?’
Jamie made his way outside, followed by Kirsty, Paul, Heather, Brian, Linda and anyone else who could cram into the hallway. A pair of disgruntled-looking firemen stood on the doorstep. Looking around at the mock policemen and fake doctors, Jamie could have believed the firemen were also party-goers: a couple of unfortunates who had turned up in the same outfit.
‘Are you Jamie Knight?’ said the older fireman, who was clearly in charge.
‘Yes. That’s me.’
‘You phoned to report a fire. Where is it?’
‘What?’
The fireman sighed. ‘We don’t have all day, Mr Knight. Is there a fire? Is it out?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about…’
‘You phoned 999.’
‘I didn’t. I haven’t phoned anyone all evening. I–’
‘It’s an offence to make a hoax phone call to the emergency services, Mr Knight. Maybe you thought it would be funny. You’re certainly wearing the right outfit for it.’
Jamie looked down at his devil’s outfit and felt his mouth go dry. ‘But I didn’t do it.’
The fireman stared at him. It was a long, hard stare that made Jamie feel like a schoolboy who’d been brought up in front of the headmaster. When the scrutiny was over, the fireman said, ‘Maybe it was one of your guests.’
Kirsty stepped forward. ‘Nobody here would have done that. Can’t you trace the call?’
The fireman treated her to the same hard stare. ‘Maybe we will.’ He turned to his colleagues. ‘Come on, we’ve wasted enough time here.’ They marched off down the path.
The party wasn’t quite the same after that, even though it carried on for a couple more hours. Brian and Linda said goodnight and went up to their flat on the top floor. Heather got off with the vampire (and later complained to Kirsty that he had blood-curdling halitosis). Paul got very drunk and threw up in the toilet. Jamie and Kirsty sat and worried about who had called the fire brigade.
‘It’s such a stupid, irresponsible thing to do,’ Kirsty said. ‘Somebody could have died in a real fire while they were here. I can’t believe any of our friends would have done it.’
‘It must have been someone at the party, though. One of the gatecrashers.’
‘But why?’
‘I don’t know. For a laugh?’
‘Some laugh.’
They were quiet for a moment.
‘So who do you think could have done it?’
‘God, Jamie, I really don’t know. I’m too drunk to even think about it.’
Jamie looked at the floor, deep in thought.
‘I’m going to bed,’ said Kirsty, crawling under the quilt. They hadn’t moved their new double bed in yet: just the mattress. She looked up at the high ceiling. Her eyes rolled up into their sockets and she closed them tightly.
‘What about the guests?’
She buried her head under the pillow. ‘I’ll let you chuck them out.’
‘Kirsty…’
But she was already asleep.
The city opened up before them. From the top of the hill Jamie could see for miles: clusters of tower blocks standing up like chipped stalagmites; patches of parkland and the curve of the Thames; flyovers and bridges and dirt-streaked trains.
A song came on the radio that reminded Jamie of his first summer in London, after leaving uni. During those heady days – days when the sun’s heat seemed to last all night – Jamie had thought the possibilities that lay before him were infinite. It was almost too overwhelming. He could do anything, be anyone. He was going to make loads of money and become famous, just as soon as he put that brilliant idea for a website into action. In the meantime, life was good. Too good to worry about actually going out and trying to achieve his admittedly-vague ambitions.
That summer had ended and Jamie had taken a job as a trainee computer technician with ETN. Systems. It would pay the rent on his little flat until he found out what he really wanted to do. He wanted to start his own business or maybe write a screenplay that would transform the British film industry. Now, five years later, he was still working for ETN, but he had been promoted and was earning okay money. The job was boring sometimes, but hey, things could be a lot worse.
He was twenty-nine years old and he felt like, at last, he was entering the adult world. He was a property owner. There was rumour of a further promotion at work. He and Kirsty had talked about getting married and starting a family, and he could see that happening in the not-too-distant future, when the time was right. The thought of it made him feel light-headed, but it was a welcome sensation. Kirsty wanted the same. She loved children – why else would she work in the children’s ward of a hospital? Some days she would come home in fits of giggles over something one of the children had done or said; sometimes there would be tears. Jamie would hold her while she recounted whatever story she had to tell. Some of the tales were so terribly sad. Jamie, who had never met the children involved or their families, would get upset too. Sometimes, now, Jamie would find himself looking at Kirsty and thinking to himself: she’ll make a great mum. She thought that when he looked at her all he thought about was sex. But half the time he was actually thinking about getting her pregnant.