Personality

by Andrew O'Hagan

  Her legs were thin and he felt afraid and choked as he stroked them. He had tears in his eyes. ‘You are so beautiful‚’ he said. She looked up at him and felt like somebody else as she reached up and kissed his mouth and put her tongue inside his mouth to suck his saliva and it felt familiar the feeling in his mouth and he loved her for doing it.

  ‘Don’t stop‚’ she said. ‘I want to be with you.’

  His fingers became light as he paused between her legs and realised how hard he was and that she was wet. He sighed into her mouth and drew his tongue over her teeth feeling the warm fold at the opening of her and wanting to scoop the wetness from her and smear it on his chest and mouth and rub it over his tongue and drink her. She moaned into his ear and kissed the inside and drove her fingers through his hair as he probed and stroked her cunt and loved her. He raised himself and licked her throat and she bit hard into his shoulder and harder again and still wanted to eat through him and become full of him and the sound of his breathing excited her more.

  Michael lapped at her arms, kissed her eyes again, and his fingers went inside her and his cock was covered in wetness at her opening. She was moaning now and weeping too and she opened her eyes to him. ‘Can we just kiss and cuddle?’ she said.

  ‘I’m doing that, sweetheart‚’ he said, ‘kissing and cuddling all of you with myself. Is that not all right?’

  There were tears in her eyes and she said yes and don’t stop and he slid his cock into her and she said his name and grabbed his neck with both hands. The warmth inside her made him want to come but he held himself back and looked down at her and saw her mouth the words ‘You are me.’ He pushed forward and licked her breasts and felt his cock ease its way into her and she moved her hips for him and breathed in sharply and ran her hands up and down his chest as he began to fuck her. Then he raised her legs and came in and out of her gently and slowly until she lay relaxed, being fucked on the bed.

  ‘Oh, please‚’ he said.

  He could feel the length of his cock sliding against her clitoris and he licked her open mouth and fucked harder. Sweat was soon running down his back and he stroked each of her legs around his waist, sliding his tongue into her mouth with each thrust and listening to her breathing and her words and loving her skin. Her hands and eyes were closed, and the words she spoke pushed into him like her cunt moving against him making him harder.

  She felt he was going all the way inside her, could feel him in her stomach and in her fingertips and on her scalp, her buttocks grinding forward. At first she thought she would have to stop him: everything is pain, she thought for a moment, but she saw the way he licked her wrists and even her fingernails, and as he moved forward in her wet cunt she wanted him to pin her to the bed and loved his heaviness and with every stroke she began to feel her body was good and wanted to speak out and cry. She bit him wherever she could and lifted her head off the pillows to find new places to bite and she caught her breath, she wanted him.

  He turned her over on her side and kissed the skin between her shoulder-blades and licked her back. He leaned round the side of her head and kissed her soft cheeks and dragged his tongue over her ear. At that moment he loved her beautiful feet and the soft hair on the back of her neck and he grew harder looking at her red lips open on the pillow showing her glistening top teeth, and when he put his hand down again she was swollen and open for him so he drew himself close to her and positioned his cock again and pushed into her.

  ‘I want us to stay like this‚’ he said.

  ‘Don’t leave‚’ she said.

  He caressed her thigh and rode her with his cock and pressed his chest into her damp back and at the same time he put his hand over and stroked the top of her cunt. He revolved his hips to let the movement be free and she put her hand over and dug her ragged nails into him. He became even stiffer as he fucked her and looked at the beauty of her face and smelled her and felt the endless warmth of being inside her. She was crying into the pillow and he was afraid he might be hurting her so he slowed down but she said ‘Don’t stop’ and they felt each of them like one person for those seconds as she moaned his name and he fucked her and tried to spread her thighs, and she said his name out loud and he came inside her and opened his mouth and said her name and she put kisses on the palms of his open hands.

  8

  Kevin Goss

  Dear Miss Tambini,

  I always wondered what happened to the little girl with the loud voice who was on Opportunity Knocks. I remember she wore socks right up to her knees. She seemed like a person you could have a nice conversation with. I wrote to the magazines Jackie and Bunty to find out more about you but never heard a thing. You were probably too busy. The magazines were rubbish and not worth the money unless you were in.

  My name is Kevin. I am not famous but showbusiness is very special to me and I like your songs. I saw you on the Royal Variety and thought you were the best. I’m sorry this notepaper is not nice I will be getting more at W. H. Smiths. If you could send me back a signed picture it would make my day. I can send a postal order for whatever it costs to send. But if you have not got any photographs an autograph will do.

  Yours faithfully,

  Kevin Goss

  Dear Maria,

  Thank you very much for the photograph. It is one of the nice ones of you. I like your hair you should always wear it down. The dress in the photograph suits you as well. I have been finding out more about you. I knew already you are Scottish but have now found the right island on the map.

  You are probably wanting to know some things about me. I am 42 years young and am presently employed as a kitchen assistant in a restaurant. It is in Leamington Spa. When I left school I wanted to be a cook. This is a difficult job and not very suited to me. I now would like to be in television or the radio. I think you need qualifications but I have written off anyway. Maybe you could give me some advice. I was listening tonight to one of your best songs. The one ‘I’ll be Seeing You’. In my opinion yours is better than Liberace singing it. I saw you on Morecambe and Wise and don’t think you did yourself justice. They are not funny them two.

  Yours,

  Kevin

  Dear Maria,

  They are not very nice to people at your office. The one where I am sending this. I went there to ask if there was any more records coming out. They just said to write to the fan club. Well the fan club is bloody useless I don’t mind telling you. The girl there takes ages to answer anything you send her. If I was you I would get somebody else to do it.

  I am not working at the restaurant now. They want people to work all hours for slave wages. You wouldn’t work all night for two quid an hour would you? Of course that is not something people in your position have to think about. I don’t know what to do now. I might move to Scotland. That’s home sweet home for you isn’t it? Some people think they can just use you that’s the problem. It said in the Daily Mirror you had to go to hospital. I am not surprised you don’t want to eat the food they hand out nowadays. I hope you get better soon. I am sending a card to the hospital as well. If you ever want someone to sit you down to a nice dinner remember your friend Kevin. Get back to your singing soon darling. Your number one fan.

  Kevin

  WHEN YOU’RE DOWN, REMEMBER FRIENDSHIP’S THE GREATEST TONIC IN THE WORLD.

  Get well soon Maria. You are the greatest. Love Kevin.

  Dear Maria,

  I saw you singing in De Montfort Hall in Leicester tonight. My head is still swirling. Maria you are the greatest. I was clapping so much my hands are still sore from it. The people sitting next to me were talking when you were singing ‘Memories’. I told them to shush. You were so lovely looking. I made out you were singing the song to me about all we’ve been through. Most people don’t understand all the hard times you’ve had like I do. When I saw you on Wogan the other night I rushed to put a tape in. I have watched it now I don’t know how many times. You are not so thin again. I don’t mind you whatever size you are. To me
you are the best star in the business. It was great to see you smiling again. If there is a tape-recording of tonight could you let me know? I am writing this in a hurry and will post it tomorrow. I love you.

  Kevin

  TO MISS MARIA TAMBINI. FOR HER EYES ONLY

  My Lovely Maria. These flowers are for you because you are wonderful. Break a leg. Love Kevin.

  Slike there’s somebody behind you and when you turn round they’re gone. Slike that. I’m keeping a taped scrapbook to record my favourites and then so’s I can talk like this when I miss you at night time. No point just thinking about you and not doing anything about it, that slike a waste. There’s an old wardrobe here my father left me and it’s really old and has old wallpaper inside the drawers. It smells of dead people’s stuff and everything and there’s so many moths. Slike great to get the vacuum cleaner out and suck them up and some of them are big as well and you can still hear them flying about in the Hoover bag. They’re trapped in the machine man it’s fucking great, you know it’s dark in there.

  Maria,

  I’m leaving this with the porter because I know that’s what you would want. These letters are private anyhow. Those bitches at your manager’s office open the mail I know they do. That’s why you’re not writing back. I know you’re busy being beautiful and thinking of me all the same. I always think about you when I write my music and poems. That was a cheap-looking show you did with that fat comedian the other night. You are too good for them and I’ve told you before you should take my advice. You are too good to be on with those people. I saw you last night at the Langham Hotel you were not able to speak to me but it’s okay because I know you wanted to. After you left I took a stirrer from the glass you were drinking. I have it beside my bed. It tastes of you and you left it for me like a kiss I know that. I am going to see you at Butlins in Skegness it’s the only thing to look forward to.

  Love,

  Kevin

  I drew round one of my hands and then round the other one on a piece of paper and sent it to her, slike touching her. Those old men on television shows are smutty and they try to make her fancy them but she’s not interested in the likes of that. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as the God of Gods. I might put these tapes in one of them safe deposit boxes at a posh bank and one day when we’re old we can listen to them. You and Lady Diana are the only people who will ever hear them. The television people try to change you with their dirty talk. They write lines for you to say and you have not been well so you say them and it makes me want to cry and put a bandage on your mouth.

  You fucking bitch,

  All I wanted was to speak to you for one minute and you had to walk away with some bastard. They don’t even know you and are using you, if you weren’t so fucking thick you would see all they want to do is exploit you for money. I come home at night and don’t expect you to have my dinner ready or anything. How quickly you forget I have allowed you to have your career and be away from me and who else would have done that? You cunt I’ll fucking forget you and who will be left to look after you? Not those pricks who come to your shows they don’t even know you. They don’t even like you. Every fucking record and telly thing you’ve ever done it’s been me standing by you and you can’t stop and speak to me for one second. It cost me a fortune to get the train to that place and stay there and everything. At least now I know you are the same as all the rest a selfish bastard who is not worth bothering about.

  Kevin

  I’ve moved address so you can call the police all you like I’m not worried you fucking bitch.

  Slike out of hundreds of celebrities I know only two or three who are properly good people and deserve success. You don’t want to smother those women or smoth those women or moth them or mother them, slike good to just help them. She’s the God of Gods because she can sing up on a stage or into a television camera and you know it’s just for you. That is the be-all and end-all when it comes to being a star and she can’t be perfect all the time because there’s all those pricks telling her what to do and wasting her a little bit. Happens. Crappy business if you don’t watch out. But those people don’t know our secret language and she does and I do so everything’s fine. Sgood. I will look after her because I’m the only one that gives a monkey’s. Kindness. Got to be done, for goodness sake. Don’t mess with the best cause the best don’t mess with the rest. You need to look after your health properly if you’re going to go on being successful and good on stage and all that and you need the right people around you. Seasy if you know there’s somebody you love watching out for you. Seasy then. Seasy as pie.

  My Dear Maria,

  On Des O’Connor you were the loveliest person in the world tonight and I am proud of you. Never stop singing and remember your number one fan will always be here for you in good times and bad. I don’t always see the celebrity things in the magazines but I saw one which said you were happy and moving to a new house. This is just to say you deserve all the happiness in the world. I think your new short hair is very becoming and it has the official approval. Don’t put on or lose any weight you are just fine now as you are. You are one of life’s special people Maria and don’t forget I told you so.

  Love and kisses,

  Kevin

  9

  Static

  Every other day Maria went to Shepherds Bush Market. She was always on the hunt for domestic equipment, and her kitchen had every kind of floor cleaner and every kind of spoon. Mugs and place mats and a pedal-bin: she wanted them pink and cherry-patterned if possible.

  Michael could never really fathom her afternoons: he would be at his desk in St Clare’s and would ring her, but often enough, though he couldn’t know it, the phone would ring beside her and she would sit by the window or stand motionless on a spot of carpet in the hall, and sometimes she did this for days at a time, not answering the phone, drinking water in her nightie.

  Journalists would sometimes turn up on the doorstep. Once or twice they took a picture as she walked down the path to go shopping. She hated it – always a story about child stars or slimming or recluses. Sometimes when they rang the bell she would just sit at the top of the stairs biting her nails. ‘I’m not here,’ she would say to herself looking down at the oval glass on the door. ‘I’m not here. I’m invisible.’

  She went to W. H. Smiths one afternoon and bought dozens of newspapers and magazines. As she made her way home down Goldhawk Road she felt the cold, felt it in her bones, while the two newsagent bags swung heavy at her sides. She spread the publications out on the kitchen table and her mouth became watery as she looked through the pages. A knitting pattern for cardigans made her salivate – pink wool, red buttons – and so did the recipes for cod, salsa verde and chicken salad. She turned the pages fast and grabbed another magazine. She saw pictures of celebrities stepping out of cars or holding glasses of champagne at parties and laughing. Make-up hints. Horoscopes. Gardening news and advertisements for stair-lifts and foot-spas and commemorative ornaments. She looked at the faces of the people in the interviews and knew the lines on their faces had been smoothed away, the whites of their eyes had been whitened and their teeth painted and their chins invented.

  She began to tear the pages out of the magazines, then strip the photographs away and pile up the text. On the sideboard she plugged in the blender and poured some water into it then added a load of the ripped-up paper to the water. She flicked the switch and watched the words and the pictures swirl round at great speed and disappear as they turned. She added more shredded pages and whizzed them and put more water in and loved to see the people and their made-up faces and lives disappearing and the words vanishing into mush. It looked like porridge. She kept adding more pages and more water and whizzed it faster and faster until all the pages on the table had gone though the blender and the mush was lying in a giant heap in the sink. She put her fingers into the basin and squeezed the paste through them; lifting it to her mouth, she ate a little and cried when she found it tasted o
f nothing.

  Days she would just stand at the kitchen window looking into the garden for hours. There were no birds. She watched the washing line with empty dresses moving in the wind. The grass was neatly cropped and the paving stones cleaned. In the daytime, standing there, framed by the window, she imagined someone was looking at her from the bushes at the back of the garden, beside the shed. She imagined he was watching her perform in the square of the kitchen window as if she were appearing on television, reading the news, or singing, and she stood there for hours, looking into the silence of the garden and feeling watched. As it grew dark, the kitchen window would become a mirror; she would see that she was looking at her own face, still she felt she was being watched, not only by herself.

  Some days she woke up exhilarated. She would be up and about dressing carefully and playing records; she’d put on make-up and blow-dry her hair with her favourite vent brush, then go out to the shops to buy food and ring Michael to say she had been very busy today and would he like his dinner? Michael had got used to watching her from a distance when she was in a bad way: that was all she would tolerate. He would come round on such a night and she would cover him in kisses at the door and there would be food all over the kitchen. She always made too much.

  He was frustrated that things had taken such a step back. They had been so close the previous year, now his journey up Holland Park Avenue was made in a state of apprehension. He began to lose his carefulness and to sound to her like other people she knew. ‘I won’t eat unless you do‚’ he said.