by Hugh Canham
‘Oh, but the fun is only just starting!’ I said.
‘Yes… well!’
‘Oh, Jane, there’s a party tonight. Why don’t you and Greg join us? It’s at my sister’s place in Fulham.’
‘No, thank you for asking but I must go,’ said Jane.
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ I said gallantly to Lucy and her friend, ‘I’ll have to take Jane home.’
‘No, there’s absolutely no need for that. I’ll get the train. I insist. The walk to the station will do me good.’
‘But, please… ’ I said, standing up.
She gently pushed me down again.
‘No, I must go home,’ she said.
I was feeling very comfortable and didn’t want to argue.
‘Well, if you insist.’
‘Thank you for asking me to come with you,’ she said and purposefully strode out of the restaurant into the snow, donning her woolly hat. From the direction she took it seemed as if she was intent on walking across the racecourse to the station. Oh well! I shrugged my shoulders and smiled reassuringly at Lucy and her friend and poured us all another glass of champagne. Lucy raised an eyebrow.
‘Strange girl, Greg. Known her long?’
‘Er… yes, maybe, and no, to the two parts of your question.’
‘Vaguely familiar. What’s her surname?’
‘Do you know, she never told me. I only met her yesterday evening.’
‘I see,’ said Lucy and giggled.
We sat awhile drinking and then it started to snow even harder so we decided to leave our cars in the car park and go back to London by train. I have to admit it was not entirely due to the snow, as we were all rather inebriated. I have always loved a fall of snow; this one was particularly beautiful because as the snow stopped, the clouds cleared and a full moon appeared low in the sky. It was so bright, it lit up our path across the racecourse to the station.
As we started walking, Katherine kept waving her arms in the air and shouting, ‘Gee! This is just great.’ Then she started throwing snowballs at me and Lucy joined in. No doubt because of the amount of champagne they’d drunk, their aim was very wide of the mark, thank goodness, and so eventually they gave up and came and walked either side of me with their arms linked through mine. As we got to the other side of the course, Lucy said she thought she’d try and jump one of the fences. I refused to let go of her arm and so we had a bit of a tussle, laughing and screaming, ending up in a small drift of snow at the edge of the course.
Opportunities for threesomes are rare and I remember I was beginning to feel hopeful as we got on the train together.
During the journey, Lucy lolled on one of my shoulders and Katherine on the other. Katherine had informed that she was ‘into’ horses as she came from Kentucky and insisted on singing snatches of some dreadful old song which started off, ‘Down in old Kentucky where horseshoes are lucky.’ She had a terrible voice! One line of the song which she kept repeating was, ‘Bop down the Avenue.’ When she came each time to the ‘bop’ she punched my arm or my chest very fiercely. Fortunately, the two other people in the compartment seemed to think it was funny!
We took a taxi from Waterloo to Lucy’s flat in Fulham where she said we could have some ‘tea’ until the party started at eight-thirty. The tea consisted of a large slice of Christmas cake each and a bottle of red wine. Then Lucy suggested I might like to take a shower to freshen up before going to the party. This seemed like a good idea – and an even better one when Lucy and Katherine both joined me. I remember we soaped one another down and laughed a good deal. Then, when it was all about to get really interesting, Katherine slipped on a bar of soap and fell over and cut her face on the shower mechanism. I’ve never heard such foul language! Anyhow, that put an end to the shower and Lucy had to apply a plaster to Katherine’s face, who swore even more when she realised it would spoil her ‘chances’ (as she put it) later in the evening.
The party was at Lucy’s sister’s flat nearby. My recollections are rather blurred. There were far too many people crammed into two small rooms. I remember having another glass or two of wine and a puff or two of a joint, then falling asleep on a sofa. It was very hot and noisy and I’d taken off my jacket and put it somewhere. I was woken up by noise from the next room – shouting, maybe fighting – followed by what sounded like a window being broken. There was a great deal of yelling and screaming, then police sirens outside. Somebody beside me said, ‘Let’s get out quick,’ so I did – out of a back window and down the fire escape. From there I must have run down a series of alleys and out into the Fulham Road. The cold air sobered me up immediately, but I felt awfully sick and I think I vomited into the gutter. When I looked up, I could see the police car with its lights flashing outside the flat about 50 yards away, so I quickly set off in the opposite direction. Then it started to snow hard again and I only had on my trousers and shirt. I needed to get a taxi, but when I felt in my trouser pockets there was no money there at all. I’d have to ask the driver to wait when we got home and I’d get some money out of the safe. Oh bugger! Of course, the keys to my office and flat were in my jacket pocket and my mobile phone must have been in my overcoat, which I deposited somewhere at the beginning of the party. Oh shit, shit, shit.
Then an idea formed in my very fuddled brain. Of course, Cristabel! The exquisite Cristabel. Her studio must only be 200 yards away. I’d bought two of her very large and very expensive abstracts for my office. She’d been so grateful and said that she’d always be pleased to see me at her studio at any time.
But she didn’t sound entirely pleased when she answered her entryphone. I think she must have been in bed.
‘Who?’ she asked, curtly.
‘Gregory,’ I said. ‘You know! Gregory Bannister.’
‘Oh yes! What do you want?’
I explained that I was standing outside in my shirt and trousers, had lost my keys and my money and my credit cards, was freezing cold and could I please come in. There was a pause.
‘Okay, well then you’d better come up!’ she said eventually.
The climb to her studio at the top of her eight-storey building was an effort, but when I saw her standing in the open doorway wearing a long white robe, it was all well worth it! It was like being greeted by a welcoming angel – except Cristabel had long, dark hair. And I think angels are supposed to be fair.
‘Gregory, you look terrible,’ she said. ‘You’d better come in and lie down.’
Cristabel’s only vice, as far as I knew, was smoking, otherwise she was totally calm, self-contained and apparently virtuous. She made me lie down on a settee in her studio, which doubled as a sitting room, covered me with a rug as I was shivering violently, sat down on a chair beside me and lit a cigarette.
‘Tell me what’s happened.’
I told her about my horse winning and gave her a somewhat expurgated account of the party.
‘Quite a night!’ she said. ‘I can imagine what sort of party it was!’
‘Oh, can you!?’
‘Of course, I went to one or two of that sort when I was very young. Surely Gregory, if you don’t mind my saying so, you should be getting past all that at your age.’
‘Er… possibly.’ I thought Cristabel looked very lovely albeit rather severe, but God, I wanted to go to sleep. My eyes must have closed and she noticed it.
‘I suppose you’d better stay here for the night if you want, as you can’t get into your flat. But hadn’t you better do something about your credit cards?’
‘Well I suppose in these days of chip and PIN it’s unlikely anyone will use them. But I did write my PIN number in the front of my diary. Silly of me, wasn’t it? They’re all insured and I should inform the insurers – but of course I don’t have their number. I expect my secretary will have it; I’ll have to ring her first thing in the morning. And of course, she’s got a set of keys to my office and flat.’
‘Fine,’ said Cristabel. ‘Look Gregory, it’s none of my business, but you don�
��t look well. It doesn’t look like just one bad party!’
‘Well, yes. You’re right. I’ve been to see the doctor and been advised to go a bit easier, but I was having a final fling. Tomorrow, I’m going to turn over a new leaf !’
‘Good. Well, shall I make you a cup of tea? Coffee may keep you awake.’
‘Yes, tea please,’ I said. But I doubted if anything would keep me awake for long. The last thing I remember was admiring the way Cristabel walked away from me as she went to make the tea.
I awoke to bright sunshine streaming into the studio. For the second night running I looked around and wondered where I was. Then Cristabel appeared in her robe, just like Jane, carrying a cup of tea and saying I didn’t drink the one she’d made last night, by the time she brought it to me I was fast asleep. So she’d just covered me up with two blankets and left me.
My mouth tasted awful and my head ached again, but I propped myself up, looked at Cristabel and thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
‘You’d better drink this and then get on to your secretary. It’s gone nine o’clock and she’s probably awake. How do you feel?’
‘Oh pretty good!’ I said, although I didn’t really – it was the day of the new leaf and I’d have to make an effort.
‘Fine. Do you want to use my phone? I suppose you’ve lost your mobile as well as everything else?’
‘Yes. But first I must use your bathroom.’
‘Can’t you go back to where the party was and try to retrieve all your stuff?’
‘Well, the thing is, I’m not sure where it was exactly.’
‘That is a difficulty,’ said Cristabel – rather heavily, I thought.
I tried Gloria but all I got was her answering service. She’d probably gone away for the weekend. I’d have to try later but for now, I had to concentrate on the new leaf ! I found Cristabel in her kitchen.
‘I see,’ she said when I told her that I couldn’t get hold of Gloria. ‘Would you like some more tea and some toast? I’m going to church in a few minutes and I’ll leave you to have a bath or a shower. I’ll be back in about an hour.’
Going to church!… Yes, Cristabel would. It went with the angelic look. I thought again of the new leaf, and anyhow I suppose I wanted to stay near her. And of course going to church on Sunday was a decent thing to do. My nanny had always insisted that we both went – every week.
‘I’ll come with you if you like!’
Cristabel’s eyes opened wide. ‘Really! Well you can’t come like that. Your shirt and trousers look as if they’ve been slept in.’
‘Ah yes! Well they have, haven’t they?’
‘But don’t let it stop you. Go and have a quick wash. I haven’t got a razor I’m afraid. But you can borrow one of my sloppy jumpers and an anorak.’
It turned out to be a Catholic church. I loathe Catholic churches. It never occurred to me that Cristabel was a Catholic. She surely wasn’t Irish; she seemed rather upper-class English. And it was a dismal Catholic church too, with paint peeling from the walls and lots of yucky statues with candles burning in front of them. But to start off with there was some quite nice singing and a reading or two, and then the priest got up into the pulpit and started his sermon. He was an enthusiastic young bugger and he rattled on about Jesus’s baptism and about sin and ‘new starts’ and that sort of thing. God, it sounded as if he knew this was the day I had to turn over a new leaf. But as he drivelled on, a gnawing sensation started in my guts and spread slowly up my chest. It seemed as though there was a balloon inside me trying to burst my ribcage. What on earth was happening to me? I breathed deeply and tried to control my body, but it was no use, I couldn’t. I nudged Cristabel.
‘I must go outside… need some fresh air… ’
She nodded as though she understood and this was perfectly normal. But by the time I reached the back of the church I thought I was going to faint. Must get outside quickly… I tore down the long entrance porch and out into the sunlight. That was better! But the street was going up and down and I felt I was going to die. I sat down on the pavement and leant against the church wall…
3
I came round in a hospital. I was on a trolley and a nurse was beside me.
‘You’ll be okay,’ she said, patting my arm reassuringly.
Then there was a blank; I was in a bed on a small ward and Cristabel was sitting on a chair beside the bed, looking at me. ‘What happened?’ I said.
‘You passed out.’
‘What’s happening now, though?’
‘They say they’re assessing you.’
‘I see. What day is it?’
‘Sunday evening.’
‘How long shall I be here for?’
‘They won’t say. But are you feeling a bit better now?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Good. Well, I must go now.’
‘Must you really? I’ve only just woken up!’
‘I came here in the ambulance with you, I’ve been here ever since and I’ve got to go away first thing in the morning.’
‘Where to?’
‘Oh, just to see someone. That’s all.’
‘What about my keys and things?’
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t done anything about them. I didn’t have your secretary’s phone number.’
‘I must phone her!’
‘No, look – give me her number and if she doesn’t answer, I’ll leave her a message explaining what happened and telling her where you are.’
‘Sodding hell!’ I thought as I watched her walk away. At least I could still admire the way she moved. ‘My last link with friends gone!’ I didn’t feel as bad as I had done in the church, but I certainly didn’t feel very well.
A young Indian doctor came and spoke to me a bit later. He smiled a great deal, but I found his accent rather difficult to understand. Then three more doctors came to look at me. They drew the curtains round my bed and they took blood and urine samples and looked into my eyes, ears and mouth, etc. just like Dr Smith. Then they asked me interminable questions and made notes of my answers. How old was I? What sort of work did I do? Were my parents alive? As they weren’t, what did they die of?… It was all very tiring. Then they got on to the drinking and smoking. I wasn’t completely honest, I just said I smoked a couple of cigars a day and of course had quite a few drinks over Christmas and New Year. They nodded wisely. They asked had I any idea of what might have caused me to feel ill in the church and then to faint outside? Cristabel must have told somebody about all that when I was admitted. I said I had no idea. Once again they nodded wisely and left me with the third doctor. He was the youngest; he had a spotty face and seemed very nervous. He took my blood pressure and then sounded me all over with a stethoscope. I think he was probably only a student and they were letting him practise on me.
When they’d gone, a superior-looking nurse came and gave me an injection. I felt woozy and fell asleep. As I dropped off, I thought of Dr Smith’s warning that I was heading for trouble. It seemed so unfair that it had happened just after I’d decided to turn over the new leaf.
The next morning they wheeled me down miles of corridor and gave me an ECG, then wheeled me back into a new ward.
I hadn’t been able to eat the breakfast and the lunch was decidedly unappetising. I was wondering what Gloria was doing about my cards and keys when a nurse wheeled a phone towards me on a trolley; Gloria was on the line.
‘Got a message,’ she said crisply, ‘from a woman friend of yours that you were in hospital and you’d lost your keys, your credit cards, your mobile phone, all your money, and had passed out in the street.’
‘Yes, that’s right, darling,’ I said, weakly. ‘Are you coping with everything?’
‘I’m doing my best. But how can you lose all those things at once?’
‘I lost my jacket and overcoat.’
‘Put them on a horse no doubt!’
‘Look, Gloria, please be sympathetic. I’m in hos
pital.’
‘I know; and it doesn’t surprise me! Where did you lose your coat and jacket?’
‘At a party. The police were called. Spot of bother. I bailed out quickly.’
‘Hah… and straight into the arms of, what’s she called?’
‘Cristabel. She painted the pictures in reception.’
‘Oh, those! Is she with you?’
‘No, she had to go away. Will you come and see me please when you’ve sorted everything out? I’m rather lonely.’
‘I may, when I have time. I’m still trying to sort out the mess. I wondered where you were when I came in this morning.’
‘Thanks. But please come and see me!’
I put the phone back and pushed the trolley away from me. Obviously Gloria had moved from a sulk into a full-blown temper! It happened every six months or so. She said I was impossible, she was going to leave, etc. etc. etc. then after twenty-four hours she’d calm down. I dozed off again. When I woke up a familiar face was peering anxiously at me. I blinked. It was plain Jane, minus her woolly hat and glasses.
‘Jane, what the bloody hell are you doing here?’
‘Gregory, that’s not a very nice way to greet me when I’ve come to see to you!’
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Well, this morning I made the bed you slept in and I found this.’ She produced a small white envelope. ‘I thought you might be very worried that you’d lost it, so, as I still didn’t know where you live, I phoned your trainer and he gave me your office number, and your secretary – who seemed very cross, by the way – told me you’d collapsed and been taken to this hospital. So I thought I ought to come and see how you were and bring you the ring!’
‘The ring?’
‘Yes.’
She opened the envelope and took out a signet ring. Of course it was mine, but I hadn’t missed it as I only wear it when I’m doing a deal. While negotiating it, I wear it on my ring finger, but once the deal’s been done I move it onto my little finger as with the passing years it’s become a little tight. It’s a sort of lucky token. I’d obviously still had it on at the dinner.
