Please Don't Stop The Music (15 page)

Alex
answered. ‘I think my wife took him to show him the display
upstairs.’ He pointed to the staircase, still littered with people.
‘But it was a while ago so maybe he’s gone.’

‘
I’ll go and see,’ I said but I doubted either of them heard
me; they were back into heavy discussions about whether babies look
like their parents from birth. I started up the iron staircase,
which meant negotiating groups of people with carefully balanced
wine glasses, who tutted as I pushed my way between them and
carried on their well-bred conversations around my body, leaning to
exclude me from any kind of contribution.

In
the upper room glass display cases stood against the walls. In the
centre of the floor there was a huge square leather stool large
enough to seat four comfortably, but at the moment it was only
seating two. Ben was sitting in the middle and beside him was
Saskia. She was kneeling, face level with his, talking earnestly
into his eyes; as I watched she caught his chin as though she was
about to kiss him, lowering her body at the same time until she was
almost sitting on his lap. Ben hadn’t seen me come up the stairs
and Saskia had her back to me. Thanking God for my bare feet, I
tiptoed across the floor and tapped Saskia on the
shoulder.

‘
I think Alex might want you,’ I said as her
head flipped up in shock. I indicated the staircase, just
possibly
giving her the
impression that Alex had been right behind me. Saskia’s heels tore
a neat hole in the leather as she snapped her legs back and leaped
away, straightening her skirt as she stood up. She fixed me with
her best imperious expression, which was only slightly ruined by
her smudged lipstick.

‘
Ben
and I were talking,’ she said in a voice full of
self-justification. ‘Business.’

‘
I
could tell,’ I said drily.

Saskia pulled herself back to her feet with
impressive speed and touched the back of her hand to her eyes.
‘God, don’t you just
hate
mascara?’ she said. ‘The way it smudges at the
slightest thing? Oh, of course you’re obviously used to it,
darling, cheap make-up never stays put, does it? You might want –.’
She made lipstick motions at me. ‘Just a little touch up.’ And she
was gone, vanishing into the staff toilets.

I
stared at Ben.

‘
What?’ he finally said.

‘
Well, (a) you don’t date, (b) she’s married
and the guy is downstairs, and (c) – Christ on a bike, man,
she’s
evil
!’

‘
(a) I wasn’t dating her, (b)
she
forced herself
onto
me
and (c)
yes, you’re right she’s awful but – Jeez –.’ A wicked smile spread
over his face. ‘She’s good,’ he finished. ‘In an awful way,
obviously.’

‘
You’re a slut. A man-slut.’

‘
Probably. But –’

I
stopped him with a raised hand. ‘No, don’t tell me. It wasn’t what
it looked like?’

Ben
was still smiling the wicked smile. ‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t say
that.’

There was a clinging heat at the base of my neck and a deep
feeling in my stomach. ‘So, you two were about to go off somewhere
more “comfortable”?’

The
smile disappeared. ‘Jemima, listen.’

‘
Oh,
yeah, right, I’m going to stand here and listen to a man who’s just
been caught nearly shagging a woman who makes Genghis Khan look
like a rank amateur!’ I tried to spin on my heel and huff away, but
spinning in bare feet on a wooden floor doesn’t work. There was a
pathetic squeaky sound.

‘
Jem.’ Ben grabbed me by my shoulders and
turned me to face him. Because I’d got no shoes on he was suddenly
a lot taller than me. ‘This is important. As soon as she knew I was
the only person in York stocking your stuff she was
absolutely
crippling
herself to get to me. She offered me her suppliers, she even
offered to help pay to buy in some new stuff “as a trial offer”.
She kept telling me you were always letting her down; she even told
me you still owed her nearly ten thousand pounds for pieces you’d
not delivered.’ Ben shook his head.

‘
That is a complete and utter lie!’ I tried to pull back but
the pressure of his fingers increased until I could feel each
individual digit digging through my shirt. ‘I’ve never not
delivered!’

‘
Okay. But she’s got the Board of Trade members blackballing
you from their shops. She’s absolutely serious. In fact I was quite
scared at one point.’

‘
That point being just before I arrived, then.’

‘
I
wanted to see how far she would go.’

I
snorted. ‘All the way, by the look of the two of you!’

‘
Jem.’ Ben let go of my shoulders and let his hands fall by
his sides. ‘I thought I was doing you a favour. She was the one
pulling the all-over body approach, not me. I don’t do that. So I’m
sorry if you – But we’re just friends, you and me.’

He
smelled spicy. Warm and green and slightly of leather. His bow tie
was hanging loose around his collar and he’d undone the top button
of his shirt where his hair kept getting caught. I wasn’t sure
whether to be glad of his words or whether to stab him with one of
the nicely sharp items on display.

‘
It’s OK,’ I said at last, to somewhere over his
shoulder.

‘
I
didn’t want you to get the wrong … I mean, it’s nothing personal,
it’s me.’

‘
You
don’t have to say anything.’ I was still talking to the shop wall.
Couldn’t meet his eyes. Didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Didn’t
know whether I was misreading the situation or not. Didn’t even
know why I was so angry.

‘
I’m
not going to. This is it, end of conversation.’

There was a flurry on the stairs and Rosie appeared looking
breathless. ‘Oh, Jem, there you are! Shall we get a taxi back, only
I don’t want to keep the babysitter past midnight and I think
Jason’s taking someone home.’ Then she looked at both of us.
‘Sorry, did I interrupt something?’

‘
No!’ Ben and I spoke together.

I
turned to him. ‘I’d better go.’

‘
Yeah, me too.’ There was a pause. ‘I’ve … I have another
appointment tomorrow. Would you be free to come and mind the shop
in the afternoon? About three?’

‘
I’m
not sure.’ I couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer but was
surprised when I did. He looked closed in, as though he was in
pain. As he had the first time we’d met. ‘I’ll e-mail you in the
morning.’

We
all went down together. In the main shop Saskia was the centre of
attention again. She was standing with her arms around Alex,
holding forth on how having Oscar had been the single most
enriching experience of her life.

‘
I
thought marrying Alex was her most enriching experience,’ muttered
Rosie as we headed out of the door. ‘Although I suppose there’s
always the Child Benefit. Harry’s enriched me to the tune of twenty
quid a week, bless him.’

Ben
waved a hand in goodbye and set off towards Wilberforce Crescent
without looking back.

‘
Did
you piss him off?’ Rosie asked as we went in search of a taxi. She
turned around to watch Ben walk out of sight. ‘You really shouldn’t
piss off men with backsides like that. Roooooaaawwww!’

I
couldn’t answer her. My mind was too full of questions. Why on
earth was Saskia lying to Ben about me not delivering? To stop him
taking my buckles? Which begged the next question – why was Saskia
trying to stop anyone stocking my stuff? And why was she buying in
so much of Rosie’s output that her entire back room was packed with
it? Consistency might not be Saskia’s middle name, but this was
ridiculous!

And what did I
really
want from Ben
Davies?

* *
*

4th
May

Tonight. Where do I start? You were right (again, shit man,
all those degrees weren’t wasted after all) writing it down does
help. Gets my head straight. Though I still hate knowing you read
it.

Jemima and I were at this party, nothing
special, local kinda thing. She looked – oh, so good. Preppy; white
shirt and a skirt, with real hot heels, she has fantastic legs –
I’m, like,
so
fired up. She’s talking to her friend (about me!) and she’s
looking at me across the room, and her eyes … there are no words
for it. Not in English, anyway.

She’s changed somehow. It’s like she had this shell,
something she’d crawled inside to keep her safe, and now it’s got
this crack which is scaring her stupid but she’s glad of it, in a
kind of way. Does that make sense? Like she almost wants me to see
through, to put my eye to the fissure and see the real woman
inside.

And
I … I want to. But to do that, to let her open up to me, then I
have to give something back, don’t I? So tonight … I was going to
tell her. After the party I was going to take her home, sit her
down and talk. Really talk, like I’ve not done in … how many years
now? And then, maybe … when she knew, then she’d have the
confidence to tell me what it is that’s got her so terrified. Or
maybe she’d want to run. Either way, her choice. Only, I wrecked
it.

Oh,
my intentions were good, at least I think they were … or did I do
it on purpose? Did I know that Jem would come looking for me
tonight? A little part of me in the back of my head says yeah,
course I did – what was she going to do, leave without me? So.
Okay. Yeah. I talked my way into being invited upstairs, then kept
talking.

And
this is the hard bit. Come on, do it, come out, say it. I did it
because I was scared.

At
first it was legit, wanted to find out what was going on. Some
dirty dealings going down, doc, nothing for you to ask questions
about. Nothing to do with you, or me. But I was curious, and it was
screwing Jem up so I …

And
Jem saw. Feel a bit sorry for the other girl, I led her on maybe
more than I should, but hey, she’s married, neither of us was going
to do anything. I just wanted some info from her. And… yeah part
of me wanted Jem to know that other women still want me – make her
jealous. Isn’t that pathetic? Very Year 9. I thought she’d
just laugh.

But
she didn’t.

That scared me worse than anything, even
that time the mic went live at Sheffield Arena and nearly killed us
all. I dunno if you can understand, doc …
she didn’t laugh
.
Suddenly whatever’s going on between me and Jem,
it’s not a game any more, and if I thought I was scared before …
what I saw in her face … She looked hurt. I didn’t think she was
close enough to hurt like that. We were mates, friends, yeah and
even that scared me, brought a whole new level to things but … if
she got hurt just seeing me with someone else – shit, how much more
is she going to get hurt if she finds out about me? So I ran. Blew
her out, and ran.

And
now the music in my head is playing those two falling notes, like
something is on its way.

I am
so
screwed.

* *
*

Two
weeks went by achingly slowly. After the excitement of Saskia’s
party there was nothing to look forward to. Not that we’d looked
forward to it, as such, but at least it had been a communal
bitching point. Now everything felt flat and listless. Rosie
continued to work hard. Saskia had ordered an enormous batch of
winter-themed cards ostensibly for the Christmas market. Jason
dumped the skinny blonde he’d met at Le Petit Lapin and started
crafting his next exhibition, if crafting is the right word. I made
a few pieces and sold some necklaces on line, but was so full of
the ennui that pervaded everything I could hardly work up any
enthusiasm, even when the cheques arrived.

I
didn’t mention the boxes in the office or what Ben had said. Rosie
was too emotionally fragile to take on board the fact that Saskia
didn’t seem to want to sell her stuff. And, as she quite rightly
would have said, Saskia was paying for the cards. Who cared if she
was putting them on shelves or up her bottom? Saskia’s attempts to
have my name expunged from the vocabularies of York residents
didn’t stand up in the face of Ben’s resistance. Plus, I still had
my website and sales through that were ongoing. So, if she wanted
to starve me out she had quite a way to go. Not as far as I might
like, but I was doing it. I was holding things together.

Occasionally I helped Ben out in the shop, but I mostly
managed to arrive as he was leaving and go as soon as he got back.
We exchanged a few generalities and he asked after Rosie and Harry,
but that was all. Nothing even approaching personal conversation
took place and we edged around each other in the confines of the
shop as though I was strapped with dynamite and he was
Detonator-Man.

He
got thinner, too. If that were possible. There was a tightness in
his face which sometimes made him look ill and sometimes just made
him look wretched but in the spirit of the talk he’d given me I
didn’t get involved. I kept busy, kept moving and kept out of his
affairs. If it baffled me how a man who’d been such a talented
musician, such a performer, could be happy running a little
back-street shop or why a man who looked like Ben should refuse to
have anything to do with women, I smothered the
questions.