Student (8 page)

I knock, but Vic won’t let me into her room. She’s taken the TV, DVD player and everyone’s laptops in there. Vic is a Fine Arts student, so I’m expecting some sort of installation. She was carrying round a video camera earlier in the week.

‘Wait there a minute,’ she calls, and I wait until a hand reaches out, holding two doves. ‘For later. One for you, one for Aidan. Or you can have them both if he doesn’t turn up.’

‘You’re a star. Thanks.’

The kitchen is full of party food — pizza, cheese, bread, potato salad — and cheap booze. I have a bottle of vodka stashed out in the open, disguised as white spirit, a trick I learnt from my mum. Last night, when I told the others we were bound to run out of booze by midnight, Finn said, ‘Don’t worry. Most of our friends aren’t big drinkers.’

The party begins. The people who live in the house cluster in Finn and Tessa’s room. A circle forms. New arrivals are introduced, though not by me. I want to feel sociable and toy with taking the e. I step back from the circle. Someone tells a joke. When Finn laughs, his whole body seems to shake, as though his back were made of rubber.

Steve joins me. ‘You’re always on the edge of things, Allison. Why is that?’

I shrug.

‘Taken your birthday present from Vic yet?’

‘How did you know about that?’

‘She offered me one. I don’t need drugs, though I’d have been tempted if I thought she was trying to get into my jeans.’

‘You never know,’ I tell him, wanting to fuck with his head.

‘You might have more luck with her than me.’

‘But she’s...’

‘Nobody’s sexuality’s cut and dry. I’ll bet you’ve done it with a bloke.’

He flushes. ‘What gives you the idea...’

‘You’re easy to tease,’ I tell him. ‘Who did you invite tonight?’

‘Nobody special. You think I’m a tart, don’t you?’

‘That’s one word for it.’

‘I’m making up for lost time,’ Steve tells me. ‘I used to be shy. Put women on a pedestal. Then I got here and found there were lots of girls who liked to get drunk and fuck. And I found I was very good at the fuck bit.’

‘Modest too.’

‘Take an e. You’ll like yourself more on it.’

‘That’s a very cold thing to say. That I don’t like myself.’

‘No it’s not. I can’t stand people who think they’re great. It’s OK if other people think you’re great. I think you’re great, Allison.’

‘I think you’re drunk, Steve.’

‘Only a little.’

The doorbell rings and I go to answer it. Aidan is not going to show up, so I neck the dove on my way, then open the door to find Mark and Helen. I had to invite them to the party but hoped they wouldn’t come. Two worlds collide on my doorstep.

Helen is wearing white, as requested, and makes a bitchy comment about my black dress. She has lost weight since September and her hair is spikier. She looks less wholesome, but no less impressive. Mark kisses me on the cheek. He thinks Helen is going to dump him, he told me when we met for coffee. Things were fine when they were in West Kirby but here, they struggle to connect. They’ve been going out for fifteen months now. I told him he was being paranoid.

‘Here. Late birthday present.’

I unwrap the oblong package he gives me. It’s a jigsaw, a map of the world. Only Mark knows how much I like jigsaws.

‘That’s wonderful.’ I give him a small hug. ‘I’m going to put this safely away in my room. Booze is through there.’

‘Is Aidan here?’ Helen asks.

‘No. I don’t know if he’s coming.’

‘Right. Only I thought...’

I don’t want to hear what she thinks of my seeing a mad murderer, so give her a chilled smile and shoot up to my room.

After them, the deluge. People pour in. I hear the new arrivals as I’m coming up on the e. My head throbs in a nice way. I stop caring about Aidan’s absence. I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m sufficient unto myself. We all are.

I’ve taken e twice before, but before tonight, only a half. I was cautious. I still am. I convinced myself that I had a good time but, looking back, it could easily have been auto-suggestion. I felt like I thought I was going to feel. I’m not like Steve, anti-drugs, but I don’t like being out of control. Speed doesn’t seem to agree with me. Skunk is as far as I want to go. Ecstasy might be class A, but people treat it more like spliff. Only this feels a lot stronger than any spliff I’ve ever smoked. And I’m still coming up.

I put the jigsaw by the side of my bed then lie down beneath the mosquito net, waiting for my head to straighten itself out. Somebody comes in with Finn. He has a rich, plummy voice, like that guy from the “Carry On” films whose name I would normally remember.

‘Let’s put the books here,’ the voice says.

‘I’ll take names,’ Finn tells him. ‘When do you want to start?’

‘Give me fifteen minutes or so, dear.’

I hear some shuffling, then the voice addresses me. ‘Oh, there’s somebody in there.’

The nets part a little.

‘Hi,’ I say, ‘I’m Allison. This is my room.’

‘Stuart. Do you mind me arranging my things?’

‘Go ahead,’ I tell Stuart, who has a fat neck, partially concealed by a silk scarf, and a large, shaved (at least I presume it’s shaved) head. ‘I’ll get out of your way before you’re ready to begin.’

‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t close the curtain properly, so I watch as he switches on my desk lamp, then points it at the floor. A pile of books he’s brought with him are arranged under the lamp’s beam. The
I Ching
,
The Golden Bough
,
The Doors of Perception
. I hope nobody thinks that crap belongs to me.

‘Something for people to read while they wait for their consultation,’ Stuart tells me. ‘I’m going to put some music on. Is that OK? The idea is that nobody overhears.’

‘OK,’ I say, feeling like a patient talking to a doctor who is about to perform a minor operation. Stuart presses ‘play’.

Birdsong. Ambient drones. Waves. A distant church organ. It’s oddly peaceful. I hear Stuart returning downstairs.

I am higher than any plain. I walk on stars. Why should I be like you, earthbound? Look at the stars! Look at the moon!

What holds you down?

This, this is infinity, and I am in it. I look down on the world and all I see is bluey green water, occasionally scarred by a continent. Then the picture is blurred by clouds, lots and lots of clouds.

Now I am moving further and further away, travelling at enormous speed. They said, they said that space was quiet but no, no it has a music all of its own and I would listen to it for all eternity, for I am

‘Allison?’

‘Aidan?’

I see a smiling face in a turban and, for a moment think that it’s Aidan, but no, it’s Stuart again, and the person speaking is Finn.

‘Sorry, Allison, were you asleep? Stuart’s ready to start the Tarot readings.’

‘Tarot? I thought he had a crystal ball.’

‘We’ve got a big waiting list already,’ Stuart says. ‘But since

this is your room, I can start with you, if you want.’

‘I’ll pass, thanks.’ As far as I’m concerned, Tarot readings are only one step above ouija boards.

‘Probably a good thing,’ Finn says. ‘The natives are getting restless.’

He begins to organise. For a budding hippy, he’s surprisingly bossy. One person joins Stuart under the nets. A second waits in line beneath the lamp, by the speakers, getting in the mood I suppose you’d call it. A third person, a girl I vaguely recognise, lands herself on the other side of my bed.

‘Oh, cool,’ she says. ‘A jigsaw!’

‘Nice one, Allison,’ Finn tells me as I watch her open the box.

I stumble downstairs after Finn, who squeezes my arm.

‘I’m sorry Aidan didn’t make it,’ he says.

I hate it when people are sorry for me.

‘Hold on,’ he says, when we reach the first floor, and opens the door to Steve’s room. I’m trashed, or I wouldn’t follow him inside. I hope he isn’t going to kiss me. Steve was bad enough, but at least he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Finn has Tessa, who I quite like, though I’m not sure how much she likes me. Finn pulls a wrap out of his pocket, then a credit card and a cut off piece of drinking straw.

‘Have a bit of this,’ he says.

‘What is it?’

‘Sulphate. Good stuff, I promise. Pharmaceutical grade.’

‘I’m not sure,’ I say, thinking of the last time I took sulphate, though that was supposed to be coke. ‘It goes brilliantly with the e. Trust me, I’m a doctor. Nearly.’

‘OK.’ I snort a two centimetre snail trail of white powder up my left nostril. It burns, but not in an unpleasant way.

When I follow Finn out of Steve’s room, we pass Mark on the stairs. He gives me a funny look. Acting oblivious, sniffing loudly, I tell him which door is the loo.

‘I’m heading for the chill out room,’ he says.

‘I don’t need to chill out,’ I tell him. ‘I feel like dancing.’

In the front room, I replace the techno with a full-on pop/rock mix CD Mark made two years ago and turn up the volume. This drives out the chatterers and smokers. For a couple of minutes, it’s only me and Vic dancing, giggling and throwing our arms around, hugging each other. Then a Clash song comes on and half a dozen more people charge into the room. By the end of the number, it’s heaving. Britney Spears follows, one of those great juxtapositions that Mark’s so good at, and nobody leaves. We’re throwing ourselves around even more. I’m dancing like I’m normally far too selfconscious to, sweating like we’re in the Tropics, giving it up for every number, even the ones I’d normally disdain, until it’s gone midnight and I’m thirsty as hell. I head into the kitchen to see if there’s any beer left. There’s plenty. Finn was right, most of this lot really aren’t big drinkers.

I need to cool down, so I open the bottle of Grolsch then step outside, into the dark yard, closing the door behind me. I smell strong weed, which always makes me think of... I hear a small, familiar cough.

‘Aidan?’ I step forward. He’s hiding round the corner.

‘Happy birthday.’ We hug.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘A while. I saw you dancing. You seemed to be having such a good time, I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘You could have danced with me.’

‘Not my thing. You know that.’

I suppose I do. ‘Have you not brought a bag, a coat?’

‘I left them in the room with the other coats. I wasn’t sure which was your room.’

‘Top floor. That’s where the attic usually is, remember? But it’s pretty weird up there at the moment.’

‘Weird is good,’ he says, and I begin to jump up and down with the excitement of him being here. Then I remember something.

‘Here,’ I tell Aidan. ‘I’ve been saving this for you.’

I hand him the e. He swallows the pill without asking what it is.

Aidan is surprisingly sociable while he’s coming up, answering Finn’s polite questions, praising Tessa’s kaftan.

‘He’s lovely,’ Vic tells me. ‘I like the shy ones too.’

Finn offers him some sulphate, but Aidan declines. ‘My sleep patterns are strange enough as it is,’ he explains politely.

Then he stares at the fish tank, transfixed.

‘One of them’s dead,’ he tells me, pointing to a goldfish that’s floating on the top, next to a half smoked cigarette.

‘Sorry to spoil the illusion,’ I tell him, lifting out the plastic fish, which has come loose from the stick it’s fastened to. At the other end of the stick is a sucker, attached to the bottom of the tank. I replace the fish and remove the butt.

‘Show me your room,’ Aidan says.

I take him up there. Beneath the mosquito net, Steve is getting a reading. A willowy girl with long, brown hair is doing the jigsaw.

‘Mark and Helen gave me that,’ I tell Aidan.

‘Mark and Helen are here?’ Aidan gives me a sideways, slightly alarmed glance. I remember what he said about why he wouldn’t return to university. Everybody knows. I don’t think Mark and Helen will say anything to anyone about him, but if I tell Aidan this it will sound like I think he ought to hide what happened. And I could be wrong. Also, I don’t want Steve to overhear us discussing this. I get the sense that Steve is like me: sharp, even when he’s off his face, even when he’s meant to be talking to someone else.

‘It’s all cool,’ I tell Aidan.

‘Let’s help with the jigsaw,’ my boyfriend suggests. As we sit down, someone else arrives, a friend of Vic’s called Tina. The four of us set to the jigsaw as a team, locked in negotiation, progressing quickly. Pieces are spread out on every available bit of carpet. We dredge our brains for fragments of geography. Where are Dakar, Fiji and Kilimanjaro in relation to other places? The girl with the long brown hair is called Persia.

When she gets up for her reading, Steve takes her place. Then Tina says to her: ‘Actually, I’m next. Finn’s got a list downstairs.’

‘But I’ve been waiting,’ Persia starts to say, then realises how uncool it is to whinge. I describe Finn to her.

‘Put me on the list too, would you,’ my boyfriend says. ‘Aidan.’

Persia goes off in search of Finn. I introduce Steve to Aidan. They shake hands like public schoolboys. Stuart gets out of my bed.

‘Need to pee,’ he announces and hurries out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve starts giggling.

‘I can’t believe anyone takes that stuff seriously,’ he says.

‘Where does he get off doing it? It’s not like anybody’s paying him.’

‘I think he wants to get into TV,’ Tina tells us from her spot on my mattress.

‘It’s not about Stuart,’ Aidan says. ‘It’s about the cards that you’re dealt.’

Sensing his seriousness, Steve starts to ask Aidan about comics. That’s the one thing I’ve told Steve about Aidan, that he collects American comics.

‘You must be into Sandman. Have you read Death: the high cost of living?’

Aidan has, but he has nothing to say about it. He passes Steve a spliff. My room will reek of smoke when we go to bed later. Persia returns and squeezes next to Aidan.

‘You’re after me,’ she tells him. ‘We’ve got the last two spots, after Tina.’

I open the skylight a crack so that some of the smoke escapes. Aidan and Persia set about the jigsaw. Steve’s lost interest. So have I. Stuart returns and deals the cards.