61

  It was three-twenty. Leah had arranged to meet Toby outside Park Road Baths at three o’clock. She glanced up and down the road once more before giving up and making her way inside.

  The pool was quiet. She liked coming on her day off. She padded barefoot to the end of the pool and slid into the water. It was lukewarm, viscous, immediately calming. She ploughed up and down the pool, feeling the tension leave her shoulder blades, her neck, her hips. After four lengths, she stopped and hugged the edge of the pool for a moment. And that was when she saw him.

  She wasn’t sure it was him at first, the tall, thin man in the tiny schoolboy Speedos that clung film-like to every lump and bump of his genitals. He had no hair and a very strange lopsided face. But as he approached and began to smile, she knew without a doubt. It was Toby.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she said, ‘Toby. You look so… what happened to your…? Oh, my God.’

  ‘I’m a monster,’ he said. ‘Melinda attacked me with a pair of clippers, then a man called Mr Shiyarayagan pulled out one of my teeth.’ He opened his mouth to show her the gap. ‘Now I am virtually naked in a public place for the first time since my school days. Bits of me are just falling off. I am being slowly disassembled. By next week, I will be bereft of any covering at all. I’ll just be bones.’

  The left side of his face was slightly swollen and palsied with anaesthetic. His voice was muffled. ‘And I’m sorry I’m so late. It all took so long at the dentist’s. I saw the hygienist, too, who felt that my teeth needed nearly an hour’s worth of her attention.’ He shook his head, disbelievingly. ‘It’s been a very strange week.’

  ‘Well,’ said Leah, ‘you may as well continue the theme. Jump in!’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Toby peered at the water. ‘I really… this is just so… I haven’t been in a pool for so long. I mean, maybe I can’t even swim any more?’

  ‘Of course you can. Come on. Jump in.’

  Toby was looking a little bit wobbly. He stood on the side of the pool contemplating the water, swaying slightly.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said distractedly. ‘I am. It’s just the air in here, it’s so… blue, isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you feel light-headed?’

  ‘No,’ laughed Leah.

  ‘You’re probably used to it. It must be the chlorine. Or something. I have to say, I’m feeling really a bit odd.’ He took a step closer to the edge and closed his eyes. He swayed unsteadily to the left, then he swayed unsteadily to the right. Then his entire being, all six foot something of it, swayed forwards, poker straight and head first into the shallow end of the pool.

  ‘Oh, my God, Toby!’ Leah watched in horror as a thin plume of red ribboned its way up to the surface of the pool. Toby’s body lay motionless on the bottom of the pool. The lifeguard blew a whistle and people started running towards them. Leah hooked her arms under Toby’s armpits and brought him to the surface. ‘Oh, shit, Toby, are you OK?’

  His eyes were closed and he had a large gash above his right eye. An elderly man appeared at Leah’s side and helped her pull him from the pool. Leah scrambled out of the water and pushed her way to Toby through a cluster of people. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, pushing past the lifeguard. ‘I’m a qualified first-aider.’ Toby was unconscious and bleeding profusely. She tipped his head backward and pinched his nose. Then she pulled his lips apart and brought her mouth down over his, to apply the kiss of life. Someone had pressed a towel to his forehead and someone else was calling an ambulance. Leah pushed her hands against Toby’s chest, then blew into his mouth again. Still he didn’t breathe. Still he didn’t open his eyes.

  ‘Here,’ said the lifeguard, pulling her back by the shoulder, ‘please get out of the way.’

  ‘No!’ Leah pulled away from him and continued pumping. Finally, as she took her mouth away from his for the fourth time, Toby coughed. Leah rocked back onto her heels and exhaled, heavily. There was an audible sigh of relief from the crowd of onlookers. Toby coughed again and this time a fountain of chlorinated water left his mouth. The third time he coughed, he vomited, copiously, all down his chest and onto the tiled floor. The crowd of onlookers inched back.

  Toby opened his eyes and looked straight at Leah. Then he looked round at the sea of faces. Then he sat up. ‘Leah,’ he croaked, looking at her in awe. ‘Did I just drown?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded.

  ‘But you saved me?’

  She nodded again.

  He touched his fingertips to his temple. ‘Am I bleeding?’

  ‘Uh-huh. There’s an ambulance coming.’

  ‘Oh, God, what’s going on, Leah? What’s happening to me?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she soothed. ‘You’ll be fine. Do you think you can stand up?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘No. I don’t know. Do you think I should try?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ he said, glancing at the floor. ‘Oh, God. There’s sick everywhere. Did I do that?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Oh, how disgusting. I’m so sorry. Did you have to kiss me, with, you know, sick on me?’

  She smiled and helped him to his feet. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you did that after I kissed you.’

  ‘Oh, thank God.’ He took the bloodied towel from the man who’d been holding it against his head. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you, everybody. And I’m really sorry,’ he said to the lifeguard, ‘about the mess.’ His foot hit a slippery patch of sick and he skidded slightly as they moved towards the changing rooms. He clung on to Leah, his bare skin against hers. She pulled him towards her by the waist and was struck by the feel of his flesh under her hands. It felt so hard, so vital, compared to Amitabh’s softly upholstered body. She thought fleetingly of the hundreds of times she’d glimpsed Toby’s backlit form in the window of his bedroom, of the occasional sightings of him on the street, bundled up in peculiar clothes, strange hats, an abundance of hair and layers and coverings. Even in the summer he covered his legs, his arms, his head. It was oddly gratifying, almost thrilling, to see him unwrapped, stripped bare of his hair, his clothes, his dignity. It made him real, not just another character in her own personal soap opera, but a man.

  Someone retrieved Toby’s clothes from the changing rooms and they sat together in reception, waiting for the ambulance.

  ‘You’ll need stitches in that,’ said Leah, peering underneath the bloodstained towel.

  ‘Ah, well,’ said Toby wryly, ‘that just caps off my week, I suppose.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said Leah. ‘I feel really guilty.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ He looked at her in concern. ‘Really, you mustn’t feel guilty.’

  ‘Well, I do. It was my idea for you to come swimming. And now you’re injured. You could have died in there, Toby.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s entirely my fault. I had tequila for breakfast…’

  ‘You didn’t?!’

  ‘Yes. I’m ashamed to admit that I did. Not because I have a drink problem because, really, if I have any drink problem at all, it’s that I don’t drink enough. Although from my recent appearances you’d probably find that hard to believe. And then God knows what they gave me at the dentist. Gas and air and drugs and…’ He shuddered. ‘I was a fool to come. But I’ve just been looking forward so much to seeing you…’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all that’s got me through the week. The light at the end of the tunnel.’

  ‘Oh, no. And look how it ended up.’

  He smiled at her. ‘It’s ended up fine,’ he said. ‘I have a scar to add character to my face. And I’ve been kissed by a beautiful woman. Not that I can really remember much about it.’

  Leah smiled, feeling strangely delighted by his description of her as a beautiful woman. ‘It was very nice,’ she said. ‘You’re a very good kisser.’

  ‘Even when I’m comatose?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Well, that’s good to know,’ he said, ‘for the next time I’m kissing somebody in an unconscious state. And I’m so grateful to you for not letting that man save my life.’

  ‘The lifeguard?’

  ‘Yes. I would have been horrified if I’d come to, with his greasy chops all over me.’

  Leah laughed. ‘That’s why I didn’t let him. I knew you’d be appalled.’

  He smiled at her and Leah was suddenly struck by how incredibly different he looked without his hair and muttonchops.

  ‘You know something,’ she said, ‘I was wrong. You’ve got a very nice-shaped head. In fact, I prefer you without your hair.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You used to look like Tom Baker. Now you look like Christopher Ecclestone.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that’s exactly what Melinda said. Is that a good thing, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it is. It’s a very good thing indeed.’

  The ambulance pulled up outside the baths and Leah got into the back with Toby.

  ‘You know you don’t have to come with me, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know. But I want to.’

  ‘Good,’ said Toby. He took hold of her hand. ‘Good.’

  They were still holding hands when the ambulance pulled up outside casualty ten minutes later.

  62

  Toby now resembled a Gorbals hard nut on a Sunday morning. They’d closed his gashed forehead with eight stitches and his eye had swollen up and taken on the colouration of the late stages of a Caribbean sunset. People kept their distance from him when he walked down the street, even in his brand-new Agnès B jacket and suede desert boots. He was a towering skinhead with a black eye, stitches and a missing tooth. He’d toyed with the idea of having a T-shirt printed up with the words ‘I am a poet’ on the front and ‘I went to a very good public school’ on the back. Everyone he came into contact with recoiled at the sight of him. In some ways it freaked him out; in other ways it liberated him.

  It was like being in fancy dress, being at once conspicuous and anonymous. He felt he could take people by surprise, subvert the course of his day-to-day life just by leaving the house without a hat on.

  And maybe that was why he suddenly found himself able to take the reins, to take control of his house. He had until next week to break the news to his housemates that he was selling the house and that they had to move out. After that he had three weeks to redecorate their rooms (regardless of whether or not they were still in them) and finish off the house. He couldn’t afford to mess around any more. The longer he left it, the tougher it was going to be for everyone.

  He headed for Con and Melinda’s room first. The old Toby would have felt impolite and awkward knocking on his tenants’ doors in the middle of the evening. The new Toby didn’t give a shit.

  Con opened the door to him. Melinda wasn’t in the room.

  ‘Hello, Con. D’you mind if I come in?’

  ‘No. Sure.’ He was watching something with very loud shouty people in a studio. He reached for the remote control and turned down the volume. Toby glanced round the room, quickly making mental notes for his decorating scheme. ‘Do you mind if I… ?’ He pointed at the edge of the carpet and fell to his knees. ‘I just need to see if you’ve got floorboards under here.’ He pulled back the green patterned carpet and peered underneath. ‘Um-hmm.’ He nodded to himself and pushed the carpet back down. ‘Very good.’

  Con looked at him. ‘What are you doing that for?’

  ‘Oh, just thinking about taking up all the carpets, you know, stripping all the floorboards. Just wanted to check yours were sound.’

  Con nodded and sat on his mum’s bed.

  Toby passed his palm over the velvety crown of his head and smiled. ‘So, Con. How are things? I feel we haven’t spoken for a while. All going well with Daisy?’

  Con shrugged and fiddled with Melinda’s hairbrush.

  ‘Ah, dear, that sounds a bit… unpromising. Is it not working out?’

  ‘Yeah, well, the whole thing was a joke, really.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Toby, ‘why’s that?’

  ‘I dunno. Her family, you know – they were just so…’

  ‘Condescending? Arrogant? Unwelcoming?’

  ‘No. None of that. They were really nice to me when I met them, but it seemed a bit…’

  ‘Fake?’

  ‘Yes. Well, no. It just didn’t make any sense, that’s all. They’ve got this beautiful girl, they’ve sent her to the best schools, looked after her, watched her going in and out of hospital since she was a kid. I mean, surely they’d want the best for her?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I don’t see your point.’

  ‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Why would they want someone like me hanging around their girl? I mean, they even invited me to stay at their house.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t they?’

  ‘Because, fuck, I don’t know – what would we talk about? I mean, just imagine it, all sitting round the dining table eating breakfast, they’d all be reading their big newspapers, talking about politics and world affairs, and classical fucking music. I’d feel like a right spanner. I just feel like they’re only being nice to me because they think I’m some kind of, you know, passing phase. Like I’m nothing serious. Like they may as well be polite because I’ll only be around for a while. I think if they knew how I really felt about their daughter and how she really feels about me they’d run a mile.’

  Toby sighed. ‘Have you talked to Daisy about this, about how you feel?’

  He shook his head, pulled a hair out of Melinda’s hairbrush and twisted it round his little finger. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘We’re not really talking any more.’

  ‘You mean, it’s over?’

  He shrugged. ‘Yeah. I guess so.’

  ‘But, Con, that’s ridiculous. You’re in love with this girl…’

  He shrugged again.

  ‘You’ve cooked for her, written her poetry. This girl was all set to change your life.’

  ‘Yes!’ Con slapped the hairbrush against his thigh. ‘Yes! Exactly. She was all set to change my life. And I didn’t fucking want her to. I don’t want some girlfriend who spends half her life in hospital, whose parents expect me to hang out with them all, like a big happy family, who’ll be watching me all the time, making sure I’m good enough for their girl. I like my life, you know. I’ve got plans. Things I want to do.’

  ‘You can do those things with Daisy, surely?’

  ‘What –go off and live in the Caribbean? And what happens next time she gets a lung infection, or a chest infection or, fuck, you know, something even more serious? What happens then, when we’re a boat ride and a plane ride away from the nearest decent hospital? What do you think mummy and daddy dearest will think about that? No, man – it’s just too… I can’t do it. I can’t.’

  ‘Well, couldn’t you tailor your plans a bit? Maybe you could, I don’t know, island hop in the Channel. Guernsey, Jersey, Sark, the Scillies. Or around the Med, the Greek islands?’

  ‘No,’ said Con, ‘no. I had a plan. Eighteen more months at Condé Nast. Get my licence in South Africa. Head to the Caribbean. I’m sorry, Toby, I know you were really into the whole me and Daisy thing, and I really appreciate everything you did. But it’s just not going to happen. OK?’

  Toby sighed. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I think that’s a shame, I really do. Real love, it doesn’t just pop up when it’s convenient, you know? It doesn’t just turn up and fit in with everything. Real love is a pain in the arse. You have to make compromises for it.’

  ‘Yeah, well. I’ve made enough compromises in my life already, you know?’

  ‘What sort of compromises?’

  ‘Looking after my Gran, feeling too guilty to go out and leave her on her own. Working in a shitty job. Sharing a room with my fucking mum.’

  ‘I thought you liked sharing with your mum?’

  ‘No. Of course I don’t. It’s all right when she’s working nights, but when she’s on days it sucks.’

  ‘Then why don’t you tell her it’s time to move on?’

  ‘No way! I can’t kick my own mum out.’

  ‘Why not? She’s done it to you.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s different.’

  ‘Why is it different?’

  ‘I don’t know. It just is.’

  Toby sighed. This called for drastic measures. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘how much does it cost to get your pilot’s licence?’

  Con sniffed. ‘About twelve grand.’

  ‘And how much have you saved up?’

  ‘About five.’

  ‘Right, so you need another seven grand. And you reckon you can save that up in eighteen months?’

  ‘Yeah. If I’m good. If I keep away from the clothes shops, you know.’

  ‘I think that would be pushing it. I think it’ll take you more like two years, on your salary. So here’s a deal. I lend you the seven grand, you go off and get your licence, pay me back when you get a job. But there are two things I need you to do in return…’

  Toby’s next stop was Joanne’s room.

  He’d barely seen her since the night the man claiming to be her husband had turned up out of the blue. She’d disappeared for a fortnight and returned three days ago, her hair cut short and bleached white, with a pink nose stud in her nostril. Nobody, of course, had asked her where she’d been. Curiosity was futile; everyone in the house knew that.

  Toby had a plan. It was a simple plan, and one he only now felt able to put into action. His plan was to play her at her own game. He would be as brusque, rigid and inhuman as Joanne, and it took a man with a skinhead and a black eye to pull it off. Toby breathed in and patted her door with his knuckles.