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in an unmarked landscape, cont’d
Part two
On Sunday Noel had a day off and he slept into the afternoon. When he woke up, he realised how exhausted he had been since coming back here to Dave a few days ago, completely incapable of not crying.
His head was clearer now, but he had not lost the feeling that he had woken up on an alien planet. He did not know how to breathe the strange air, or walk when gravity had no hold on him.
Dave was working at his computer in the corner of the room.
“Are you awake, Noel?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because you haven’t moved in an hour and it’s freaking me out.”
“It’s my day off, I don’t have to move.”
“You don’t have to go into a persistent vegetative state either.”
“Is there something you want, Dave?”
“A cuppa, that’d be lovely.”
Noel gave a theatrical sigh and heaved himself off the sofa. “I’m nothing but a skivvy round here.”
On the way to the kitchen, he stopped to pick up an envelope that dropped through the letter box. Dave worked freelance, and he often got deliveries by hand, at odd hours. Noel was half way to giving it to him when he saw his own name on the envelope, written in Julian’s unmistakeable freeform handwriting.
“It’s for me.”
Inside, he found one of his own sketches. It was of Howard; the one he had been working on just before Julian had his meltdown. The picture was half-finished, as he had left it, and unaltered but for one detail. Howard now wore a little electric guitar pinned to his coat.
“Oh, Ju.”
Julian had written the word, “Vince?” in a jagged speech bubble from Howard’s mouth. There was no other message. For Julian, it was a romantic declaration. It was an especially frantic version of Howard, looking even more wild eyed and distressed than usual, and Julian had identified the reason for the distress as the lack of Vince.
Dave peered over his shoulder. “Who’s Vince?”
“I am.”
“I won’t ask.” They stared at the image. “He wants you back. Told you.”
“Yeah,” Noel said. He pushed the picture back into the envelope. “That’s not the point though, is it?” He turned and went into the kitchen. Dave followed him in.
“It’s not like you to bear a grudge, Noel. At least go and talk to him.”
Noel filled the kettle and switched it on. “It’s not a grudge. It’s just-” He pulled a couple of teabags from the box and waved them at Dave. “It’s just, if he’s been freaked out by what happened to me. So much so he’s obsessing about it, and picking fights with psychopaths. What’s changed? Nothing. I can’t guarantee Craig’s not going to turn up one day and do god knows what. I can live with that, but it seems like he can’t.”
“He said that stuff when he’d just got three of his ribs broken. He’s had a chance to think about it now.”
“I know, but you’re the one who said, all that didn’t come out of the blue.”
“What do I know?”
“The truth is, Dave,” he said quietly, looking down at the teabags in his hand. “If that’s what’s been going on with him, he’s better off without me. I don’t want to do that to someone.”
He looked up as Dave ruffled his hair. He smiled at him. “Thanks mate, you always have to pick up the pieces. Are you sure you’re not gay? I’d make a lovely Mrs Dave.”
“Thanks for the offer, but it’s pretty obvious you and Julian should be together.”
The next day at work was horrible. Noel was distracted by the customers, and suffocated by the stock. For once he was glad of his early start and early finish. As he got ready to leave, he laid the picture Julian had sent him on the counter. He knew he had to reply.
There was a blank space in the frame where Vince and the polar bear should have gone, and he began to draw there in black biro. He drew Vince in his own green leather coat, his arms wrapped around himself to keep out the arctic chill. His head hung low and his woolly snow hat pulled down, covering his eyes. Finally, he wrote the word ‘goodbye’ in a thought bubble drifting from the frame.
It wasn’t right, Howard and Vince would always be together, but it made the message clear.
He put the picture in an envelope and wrote Julian’s name on it. He had time to deliver it before he was due to meet Mike, and he took the familiar walk to Kings Cross, to his old house.
The light was on in their window, Julian was home. He thought of him there in the one armchair, all broken but starting to heal. He wanted to be with him; sitting at his feet, head against his leg, sharing the heat of the gas fire, a familiar hand through his hair.
He posted the envelope and walked away. Julian had put up with more than enough, he deserved better.
~~~~
Christmas was only a couple of weeks away and the weekly delivery brought a bright crop of party dresses, bursting from boxes and bags like new butterflies from cocoons. Every hook, rail and shelf in the little office was hung with a gown waiting to be priced and put out on display. A flutter of 1940s movie stars posing and preening in orange silk, red wine crushed velvet, shimmery blue organdy and emerald green satin.
Noel sat on the edge of Anya’s desk. If he stared at the dresses for long enough they lost their shape and form. He thought of an abstract painting in acrylic or even oil, the colours folding and rippling, the textures distinct.
His acrylics were still in Kings Cross though, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything so final as going to get them.
He remembered his lunch; the Kit Kat in his pocket, the tea cooling by his side. It was getting harder to take an interest in the ordinary activities that made life tick along and, after a month, it should be getting easier.
He wondered where Julian was now. It was almost two o’clock and he might be going down to the cafe for a late fry-up, the Guardian under his arm. Or he could be out sorting gigs; maybe in the West End, just a few steps away.
“Hi.”
He heard Julian’s voice and decided he was hallucinating. He broke off a stick of Kit Kat and dipped it in the tea, eating it with the chocolate slightly melting.
“Is he here?”
The office door was pushed open, and there he was; too completely Julian not to be real. He was wearing his old jacket, the one he insisted wasn’t too small for him, and the same old jeans and knackered plimsolls. He had let a fairly scary beard grow, and Noel thought he looked tired.
“Hello,” Julian said.
“Hey. Alright?”
He had been taking in Noel’s appearance as well, and Noel wished he had shaved and washed his hair, in the little bathroom at the back of the shop.
Julian looked like he was searching for something to say and when he couldn’t find anything, he dug into his pocket and came out with an envelope.
“This came for you. I thought it might be urgent.”
Noel took it from him. It was a letter from the police.
“Thanks. I know what it is. They phoned me a couple of days ago. They’re reopening the case against Craig.”
“Christ. How come?”
“He assaulted one of the old boys in his flats, so they’re going to prosecute him on that and reopen my stuff as well.”
“Tell me he’s been arrested.”
“Yeah, but he’s out on bail, if you can believe it. On condition he stays with his mum.”
“How does that work?”
“I don’t know, Ju. The devil looks after his own.” Noel looked up at him. “Are you better now? How are your ribs?”
“I’ll survive,” he replied ruefully.
The conversation died away and Julian looked everywhere but at Noel. He took in the frothy display of party dresses, brushing a finger along the sequined trim of one of them.
“Are these yours?” He asked.
Noel gave him a look.
His gaze shifted to the floor, and he caught sight of the open rucksack under the desk, the sleeping bag by its side.
“Are you okay, Noel? With all this. I know it’s none of my –“
“I’m fine,” Noel interrupted. “It’s fine.”
“Well, let me know if I can do anything.”
Noel nodded. “Thanks.”
Julian broke the silence starting to settle between them again. “I suppose I’d better go.”
Noel reached out and took his arm. “Thanks for coming by.” He tugged him down a little and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I mean it.”
Julian smiled slightly, before raising his hand in a small wave and leaving.
~~~~
The office was a cold and miserable place at night. By eleven o’clock, Noel was feeling sorry for himself and regretting not going to meet his mates, as he had done yesterday to kill the long hours.
He got into his sleeping bag fully dressed. Staying here was a bad idea and this was a low point. Another low point.
He heard a knock at the glass of the street door. At first he ignored it. Anya and Basha knew he was here, but they had left ages ago. No one else knew, and he wasn’t supposed to answer the door, because he wasn’t supposed to be here.
The knocking became more insistent until, eventually, curiosity got the better of him, and he went out into the dark of the shop floor to see who was there. It was Julian.
“Dave said you were at Mike’s,” Julian said when Noel had unlocked the door for him. “And Mike said you were at Dave’s.”
Noel stood back to let him in. “So, how did you find me?”
“I worked it out. You’re not hard to track.”
“Alright, Lieutenant Columbo.” Julian followed Noel into the office. “Why were you looking for me, anyway?”
Julian didn’t answer but nodded at Noel’s sleeping bag which covered half the floor space.
“Are you staying here because of Craig?” He asked.
Noel sighed. “I didn’t want him following me to Dave’s and setting his place on fire.
Julian cast a disapproving eye around the room. It wasn’t very homey, even the party dresses were gone.
“You can’t stay here until the court case.” Noel shrugged in response. “Well, you can’t.”
“I’m not thinking that far ahead, Julian. Don’t have a go.”
“Why don’t you come home?” Julian said suddenly. Noel stared at him. “Sorry, I was supposed to slip that casually into the conversation.”
“I don’t want him setting fire to you either,” Noel said, making himself smile. He waved a hand at Julian’s beard. “Not while you’ve got this Robinson Crusoe thing going on, anyway.”
“Look, Noel, if he tries something, it’s not your fault. You didn’t pay his bail, you don’t have to go into hiding.”
“You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
But it didn’t change anything. Not really.
Julian stared at the sinister looking sandwich in cellophane, waiting for Noel on the desk.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” He asked.
It was such a normal question, Noel was lost for words.
“Come on,” Julian said. “Let’s go.”
A street away, there was a fish and chip shop still open. They got chips and bottles of beer, and sat outside so Julian could smoke. It was a mild night with a few stars and a full shining moon.
Noel had to stop himself moving closer to Julian on the bench they shared, because this was the first time he had felt safe since he had got the call from the police.
Julian gave his beard a meditative stroke. “Robinson Crusoe?” He asked. “Really?”
“Definitely.”
“That’s better than David Blunkett, I suppose.”
Noel crumbled a burnt end of a chip for a curious pigeon bobbing between them on the pavement.
“You were right about everything,” he said, startling the bird. “Not you, pigeon. You’re as wrong as me.”
“I meant it before, Noel,” Julian said. “Come home with me.”
“It’s not my home any more,” Noel said.
“Bollocks it isn’t,” Julian responded with surprising vehemence. “Please, Noel. I can’t be on the outside while you’re going through all this. I can’t do it. I know that now. I want to be with you. At least now I can prove I mean it.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me. That’s not why we broke up.” Not that he could remember what the stupid reason was.
When Julian’s big declaration failed, his fighting spirit seemed to ebb away.
“What can I do then?” He asked quietly. “To get you to come back. Just tell me, I’ll do it.”
“There isn’t anything to be done, Ju,” he said, calling on his last reserves of resistance and getting to his feet. “I’m heading back to the shop.”
They wandered the short walk together and said gloomy goodbyes on the doorstep.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Noel said to the window mannequins when he had locked himself back in. He took an opera cape off one of them and, wrapping himself in it, sat on the floor against the counter.
It was always busy in this area and he watched as people made their way to the last tubes, or to clubs and bars in ragged crowds. Eventually though, he fell asleep where he was.
Not long after, a noise startled him awake. There was someone trying to get into the shop.
He could see a shadowed figure of a man. It pushed at the door, as if testing the strength of the lock. Then he just leaned there unmoving for long seconds. Noel froze. The man was too short to be Julian, but was the same height and build as Craig.
Then he heard the sound of a stream of urine against the shop door. It was just a drunk stopping off before going on his unsteady way.
Noel’s adrenaline was still rushing, though. He got up and switched on the lights; he didn’t care who found him here now and he roamed the shop feeling as desperate as a fly trapped behind glass.
Eventually, at the counter, he found the pad of white tissue paper they used to wrap jewellery. He picked up a pen and started to draw.
The paper was the soft white of the tundra; a featureless expanse of space with two small, stranded figures at its centre. Vince and Howard were lying in the snow, their bodies distorted and broken, showing no sign of life.
The polar bear was gone but a telltale trail of paw prints, drawn in red biro, led away from the bodies. Then he began to colour. Blood drenched Howard and Vince’s clothes and darkened the snow around their bodies. Crosshatches turned to scribbles until eventually the whole picture was drowned in blood.
Vince and Howard reached out to clasp one another’s hands. Noel threw down the pen.
~~~~
By the time he got to Kings Cross, it was close to four am. Even here a quiet had settled. The area was never free of the low hum of traffic and people, but the station was closed and so were most of the bars and takeaways. Homeless men settled in doorways and the prostitutes waited out the night, murmuring tiredly to one another.
Noel broke into a run, not stopping until he got to the house. He still had his keys and he let himself in through the street door. The smells of the house were instantly familiar; the hint of drain in the hallway, someone’s secret dog, the dusty carpet, the cooking scents drifting in from every continent.
It was overwhelmingly home, but still not enough to stop his courage deserting him at the top of the stairs. He put his head against Julian’s door, and couldn’t use his key or knock or hardly even breathe. He just listened to the faint sound of a guitar from inside.
The guitar stopped, the door opened and a moment later he was in Julian’s arms.
Julian questioned Noel urgently, until he believed him when he said he wasn’t hurt and nothing had happened. Then he brought him inside.
“Are you back?” Julian asked.
“Are you sure about this, Ju?” He replied. “Because I don’t think this business with Craig is ever going to end. In fact, I expect him to drop a cartoon piano on me in the next couple of hours.”
“I’m sure. I know. And I’m sure.”
“Sorry for being a bit rubbish. I mean, I know I’m not dealing with what happened properly –“
“Fuck it Noel, do whatever you want. I was wrong about everything. Just come home.”
Noel grinned. “Dave says if we talked to each other occasionally this wouldn’t have happened.”
Julian shuffled Noel’s coat off him, as if he was still afraid he would try to leave.
“But I’m a Northerner,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. And I’m quite shallow.”
“Shall we talk to Dave instead?”
“Yeah, that’ll teach him to be right.”
Julian reached round his neck and unclasped the chain which hung there. It was the electric guitar necklace and he put it around Noel’s neck.
“This should be yours.”
“It’s only a thing, it’s you I missed.”
Julian rested his hand on Noel’s cheek and gently kissed him. Then he ran his hands across his eyes and seemed to gather himself.
“I’ve fucking missed you so much, Julian. Don’t you dare chuck me again.” Noel hugged him and he winced. “Oh sorry,” he said, letting go. “Does it still hurt?”
“Only when I move or breath.”
Noel’s gaze wandered over him. “Hold on a sec, this one’s better.” He carefully put his arms around Julian and rested his head against his shoulder. “I texted that bloody band of yours to look after you, and look at the state of you. Useless jazzers.”
“They were quite worried about my vibe, actually.” Julian said, folding his arms around Noel.
“Don’t say vibe, you’re from Leeds.”
“They said I was playing gloomy jazz.”
“Yeah, like anyone can tell the difference.”
For a while, there was only the slow undulation of Julian’s breathing.
“Julian,” he said.
“Mmm?”
“I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“Howard and Vince are dead.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”
“Mauled by the polar bear.”
“I warned you, Vince,” Julian said channelling Howard with a slight adjustment to his intonation. “He’s a trained killer.”
“He’s alright, Howard,” Noel said switching to Vince. “He feels really bad about it now, and he’s gone to get his first aid kit.”
“He’s a trained first aider?”
“Oh yeah, he’s got a certificate and everything.”
Noel thought he would be happy to spend the rest of the night here, talking nonsense into Julian’s jumper. He thought that would be alright for a long time.
end
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