Life and Soul of the Party

by Mike Gayle

  ‘So come on then. Return the compliment. Who am I?’

  ‘Okay,’ I mused looking Billy up and down. He was wearing black shoes and trousers, a white short-sleeved shirt with a striped tie in two different shades of red and looked like he was some kind of shop assistant. The icing on the cake was the patches of red marker pen all over the shirt that I guessed was supposed to be blood.

  ‘When we met last time didn’t you tell me your name was Billy?’ I asked, pointing to the green Curry’s electrical store name badge on the front pocket of his shirt which said: ‘STEVE BAMFORD.’

  ‘It is . . . and before you ask, no, I don’t work at Curry’s. I bought it off eBay from this Bamford guy.’

  I wracked my brains for the answer. His costume was ringing a bell but I couldn’t place him. ‘I take it it’s from some kind of action film?’

  ‘Action-ish,’ shrugged Billy. ‘Though it’s probably more cross-genre.’

  ‘Action crossed with what?’

  ‘That would be telling.’

  ‘I have no idea,’ I replied, still drawing a blank. ‘You’ll have to give me a clue.’

  ‘Okay, here’s a clue. Are you ready?’

  He let out a long groan that was so loud, it took both me and the group of people around us more than a bit by surprise. Billy was not only unfazed by the looks he was receiving but appeared to be relishing the attention.

  ‘What was that about? It sounded like you were about to throw up.’

  ‘It was a clue.’

  ‘You groaning was a clue?’ A picture slowly began to form in my head. I knew the film. It was about zombies and starred the bloke who used to be in a sitcom that Paul and I used to watch sometimes on a Friday night. I could even see the cover of the DVD from when Chris, Vicky and I had rented it from Blockbuster when it first came out. Finally it came to me.

  ‘Shaun of the Dead.’

  Billy gave me a small bow.

  ‘I wasn’t the first to get it right though, was I?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter that you weren’t the first to guess,’ grinned Billy, ‘the bottom line is you’ve managed to win tonight’s star prize.’

  I was well aware that this was probably the lead up to the world’s cheesiest line but I didn’t entirely mind because Billy had already begun to grow on me.

  ‘Okay then,’ I replied. ‘What, pray tell, is tonight’s star prize?’

  With a theatrical flourish as much for his own amusement as mine, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a keychain with a red plastic lobster at the end of it.

  ‘The perfect present for Annie Hall,’ he said and handed it to me. ‘From Alvy Singer with love.’

  Billy

  Melissa’s face when she saw the lobster was priceless.

  ‘How did you do that?’

  ‘Do what?’

  She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘The lobster, it’s a reference to the bit in Annie Hall where Alvy tries to cook live lobster for Annie and they end up escaping. Now either you constantly walk around with red plastic lobsters in your pocket or somehow you guessed that I was going to come as Annie Hall . . . which is impossible because I only came up with the idea half an hour before I left my flat.’

  ‘The truth is I have the gift,’ I replied. ‘Either that or I’m a dab hand with smoke and mirrors.’

  Of course Melissa didn’t fall for any of this but that didn’t really matter because I was making her smile and, given that this had been my main objective since I hatched this plan several weeks ago, I considered the mission to have been accomplished very well indeed.

  The whole lobster thing came about as a result of a chance mid-week night out with my housemates Seb and Brian. Seb worked in the accounts department for a firm of solicitors in town and he’d recently been up for promotion, so when he came home one night and told us he’d got it and wanted to celebrate we all agreed to go out with him. For a change Seb suggested that we go to Blue-Bar on Wilbraham Road rather than the Duck and Drake. I tried to talk him out of it because Blue-Bar was one of Freya’s favourite places and as I was still trying to avoid her I didn’t really fancy it but Seb wouldn’t budge. Half an hour later we arrived at the bar, and as I walked in I was completely blown away because the first person that I saw (standing behind the bar pulling pints, no less) was Melissa.

  Melissa had been on my mind off and on ever since we’d met on New Year’s Eve. Even though nothing had happened between us she had made a real impact on me and so seeing her working in this bar that we didn’t normally go to suddenly didn’t seem like any random coincidence. It seemed like something bigger. Like it was all part of a plan. And the fact that she looked just as amazing as she had done on New Year’s Eve was the icing on the cake.

  I could barely take my eyes off her, and before long Seb and Brian noticed my distraction and tried to cajole me into going over to talk to her. But then I told them about my opening salvo the first time we’d met, about our matching Converse. Once the boys had finished laughing, I added that Melissa might also have a boyfriend so talking to her would hardly be worth the bother. But then Brian volunteered to do some digging with Martha, a Polish girl he’d been after for the longest time, who occasionally worked in Blue-Bar at the weekends.

  Brian called Martha and reported back everything he had learned. Melissa was a student at Manchester university. She worked six shifts a week at Blue-Bar. She was popular with customers. She liked music and cinema. She lived in Chorlton. Her flatmate was a bit strange. She had a bit of a complicated relationship with her ex-boyfriend but was currently single. The biggest revelation was the fact that Melissa (who on the night we’d first met I’d guessed to be somewhere between the ages of twenty-five to twenty-eight, tops) was actually ‘somewhere in her mid-thirties’.

  I think this was more of an issue for Brian and Seb than it was for me as for the rest of the evening their running joke became, ‘So if you two get hitched, when you’re thirty-five she’ll be forty-five,’ followed by ‘when you’re forty-five she’ll be fifty-five,’ and then finally ‘when you’re one hundred and ten she’ll no doubt be dead.’ The bottom line was that I didn’t care how old Melissa was, all I knew was that I liked her, and that given that she wasn’t seeing anyone I was more than prepared to have a go at trying to make her like me in return.

  Later that night I called my sister Nadine and asked her to invite me along the next time her mates had one of their get-togethers. She guessed straight away that my interest was more than likely due to my being ‘in pursuit of skirt’ and when I told her how old ‘the skirt’ was she duly informed me that I had no chance.

  In a bid to prove her wrong I attended three birthday parties (two in Withington and the other in Didsbury), and an engagement party in Stretford. And while it was interesting to discover that my sister’s group of friends had a more happening social life than I’d first imagined, it failed to result in a single sighting of Melissa. For a while I began to think that perhaps Nadine’s friends had less crossover with Melissa’s friends than I had imagined but then Nadine told me about a Hollywood-themed fancy-dress party in Altrincham and I just knew in my gut that Melissa would be there.

  The second I saw Melissa arrive with her friends it occurred to me that I hadn’t really thought about what I would do once we were in the same room. But as she took off her coat in the hallway, I spotted her costume and guessed that she had come as Annie Hall. I knew then that I had the perfect way to make a better second impression if only I could find the right prop.

  I made my way up to Simon and Cath’s bathroom, locked the door behind me and started looking for anything that could be used to help me in my endeavours with Melissa. As I frantically scanned the room, opening cupboards left, right and centre, I came across air fresheners, loo rolls, a copy of the Guinness Book of Hit Singles, a box of tampons, a spider plant and two issues of Heat magazine, but not a single thing that might have had a Woody Allen connection no matter how tenuous. But as I sat down on the loo to t
ake stock I glanced up at a shelf on the wall and spotted a red plastic lobster keyring dangling from the wall bracket. Cheap and tacky looking, it couldn’t have been more perfect for what I needed and I knew this would be the best-ever way in with Melissa. Delving into the pocket of my jeans I pulled out a tenner and left it on the shelf by way of recompense, then made my way back downstairs.

  Vicky

  I was in Cath and Simon’s kitchen talking to them about the plans they had for renovating the room when Chris appeared from nowhere looking incredibly pleased with himself, as though he had some kind of news. I could tell right away that it wasn’t meant necessarily for Cath and Simon’s ears, so making an excuse I took him to one side.

  ‘Okay, what is it you’ve seen or heard?’

  ‘Brace yourself for it because it’s big news. I’m not sure but I think our small but perfectly formed friend Melissa has just pulled some bloke.’

  I couldn’t think who it might be.

  ‘It’s not Simon’s friend Alex, is it? I remember he was sniffing round her last summer but I’m pretty sure he’s got a girlfriend now.’

  ‘No, it’s not him,’ replied Chris. ‘It’s some young-looking guy I’ve never seen before.’

  ‘And they were kissing?’

  ‘No, but you could tell something was going on. He was doing that thing blokes do when they’re trying to give girls the impression that they’re really listening to every word they’re saying.’

  ‘Is he good-looking?’

  Chris shrugged. ‘Maybe, if you like that sort of thing. He’s tall-ish, all-right looking and he’s dressed like a bit of an idiot – but I’m guessing that’s just his costume for tonight. He’s definitely toy-boy material though. Mid-twenties tops.’

  I was shocked. ‘I have no idea who this guy could be.’

  ‘Do you think he knows how old she is? I suppose to be fair to him Melissa is quite well preserved for her age but even so . . . he’d have to be blind to think that she was under thirty.’

  I punched Chris in the arm as hard as I could but he didn’t even flinch.

  ‘Don’t be so mean. If he’s as young as you say she’s probably just basking in the glow of a bit of male attention. I know I wouldn’t mind having some young guy trying to chat me up instead of just holding doors open for me or telling me that I remind them of their mum. I can’t even remember the last time I got wolf-whistled by a builder.’

  ‘Maybe Melissa’s new bloke has got a friend for you?’

  ‘Don’t think you can palm me off that easily,’ I replied narrowing my eyes. ‘You, I’m afraid, are stuck with me for life.’

  For a second I thought I detected a small flash of unease on Chris’s face, but when I looked for it again it was gone and I told myself I was being silly.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, thinking not for the first time in recent weeks about the episode in the car coming back from Charlotte and Cameron’s party. ‘Things are all right with you, aren’t they?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Really I’m fine,’ and then he kissed me and headed outside for a cigarette.

  Melissa

  Billy and I had been talking for quite a while.

  Somehow or other we went from talking about who we knew at the party to talking about the weather, which in turn had led us to the topic of ‘Places that we’d go if someone handed us the keys to a Doctor Who-style Tardis’. I’d told Billy how I’d want to go somewhere nice and warm where the sun would bake me – like Ibiza maybe – where Vicky and I had taken our first holiday together. Or even Woolacoombe Bay on a good day like the August bank holiday a few years back when Vicky, Laura and I had spent an entire ‘boy-free’ weekend on the beach soaking up the sun. At a push, I told him, I would accept being in bed at my gran’s house in Aberdovey because even if it was freezing outside, my gran’s house always felt warm and cosy. Billy asked if he could come and see it with me one day and I replied probably not unless we could get our hands on an actual Tardis as my gran had died a few years back. There was an awkward silence and then he asked if I wanted another drink.

  It was really odd. I think we both knew that his question had a deeper meaning behind it. Something along the lines of: ‘I’d like to carry on talking to you but I’d also like to give you the opportunity to walk away if this isn’t really happening for you’, and the truth was I didn’t know whether this was happening for me or not. He was good-looking, funny and polite. And he’d made good conversation without trying to pummel me to death with his opinions or jokes. But the big problem was that he was young. Young enough to have prompted me to do some subtle investigation during our conversation. Young enough for me to guesstimate that he was somewhere between twenty-four and twenty-six. And therefore young enough for me to think twice about whether or not it would be a good idea to let him get me another drink.

  He must have sensed my hesitation because rather than wait for me to answer he said, ‘Look, this might be a little too much information given the short amount of time we’ve been talking but my bladder is full to bursting.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘The thing is,’ he continued, ‘my full bladder is actually your fault.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Well, I would’ve gone earlier but I was enjoying talking to you too much to even think for a second about how I needed to answer the call of nature. Anyway, here’s my point: given that I’m going to have to join what will undoubtedly be the world’s longest queue for the toilet, I may be some time. So how about this: I’ll go to the loo and then get us a drink – and here’s the good bit – you can feel free to use this pause in the conversation to make a break for it and run for the hills or not. If you’re here then great, if you’re not then I completely understand.’ He paused and held out his hand for me to shake, ‘If I don’t get to speak to you again, Melissa Vickery of Chorlton-cum-Hardy, it was nice talking to you.’

  I waited until he had completely left the room before I covered my face with my hands, lowered my head and laughed with a mixture of shame, embarrassment but above all delight. It had been a long time since I’d met someone like Billy. A long time. And although there were a million and one reasons why he was completely unsuitable for me I was finding it hard to escape the feeling that after his ridiculously charming exit I didn’t really care. I thought again about Vicky telling me I needed to move on and how in the space of a single short conversation Billy had made me feel more attractive and more wanted than I’d felt in ages.

  Still undecided about whether I had the guts to be here waiting for him when he returned, I decided to seek out Vicky and Laura for their advice. But in fact Vicky was standing right in front of me.

  ‘I was just about to go looking for you.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ She eyed me suspiciously. ‘Why would that be? You look guilty, Mel, what have you been up to?’

  For a moment or two I wondered if I really did look guilty but then a smile cracked across Vicky’s face and she was unable to stifle her laughter any longer.

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Chris, about ten minutes ago and I’ve been hanging around by the door keeping you under surveillance ever since. So come on then, what’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing really. It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘That goes without saying.’

  ‘Okay, do you remember me telling you about the guy from Ed and Sharon’s New Year’s Eve party who just appeared from nowhere and started going on about my Converse?’

  ‘Are you saying that’s him?

  I nodded.

  Vicky laughed. ‘But didn’t you say he was a bit weird?’

  ‘Only because I didn’t know him. He’s actually really nice and I’d be really happy if there wasn’t one small problem . . . he’s twenty-five.’

  ‘And does he know that you’re . . . you know . . . not so twenty-five.’

  ‘I told him I was a mature student, but I couldn’t seem to find a way of dropping the words, “Oh, by the way
I’m whole decade older than you,” into the conversation. This is so shameful. I can’t be carrying on with guys young enough to still be doing paper rounds. It’s unseemly.’

  ‘You must get chatted up at university all the time.’

  ‘Not at all.’ I shook my head. ‘If being back in full-time education has shown me anything it’s this: that in the university pecking order mature students are the lowest of the low. Not that I fancy them at all but I’m completely invisible to the guys in my classes. They only ever notice me if they want to borrow my lecture notes.’

  ‘They’re intimidated by your wealth of life experience.’

  ‘No, I think they’re just afraid of catching old-people disease. I used to be the same when I was their age. I remember the mature students on my first course freaked me out a bit too.’

  ‘But age thing aside, is he nice?’

  ‘He’s really funny and sweet,’ I replied, ‘and he did this weird thing with this,’ I dug into my pocket and showed Vicky the red lobster key chain, ‘which I’ll explain another time. If I’m being honest, Vick, if he was just five years older I wouldn’t have a problem with him at all.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Vicky raised her eyebrows mischievously.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t know or are you just saying that? It would be one to tick off the list after all.’

  ‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’

  ‘I can’t help it,’ said Vicky. ‘Things like this never happen to me. Where is he now anyway?’

  ‘Gone to the loo then off to get me a drink.’

  ‘So he could be back any minute? Do you want me to stay?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely sure.’

  Vicky’s mobile phone rang from inside her bag. She took it out and checked the screen. ‘It’s our home number, so I’d better take it even though it’ll probably just be Mum calling to ask where I keep the “good” biscuits.’