Tin Man(5)

I placed the tree in its stand and helped you cover the base with gold paper. From gold paper I moved to lights, from lights I moved to baubles, and from baubles, I reached up high and placed a star on top. When I came down I came down by your side, and didn’t want to leave.

You said, Have you nowhere to go?

No, I said. Just back to the shop.

No trees to deliver?

No trees, I said. You were my last.

So what’s at the shop? you said.

Michael. Mabel. And Scotch.

Ah, you said. That famous children’s book!

I laughed.

You have a nice laugh, you said.

And then we didn’t speak. Do you remember? Do you remember how you stared at me? How unnerved you made me feel? And I asked you why you were staring at me.

And you said, I’m wondering if I should take a chance on you.

And I said. Yes. Yes, is the only answer.

As dusk moved into darkness, we raced down Southfield, holding hands, stopping once in the shadows where I tasted crumpets on your lips and tongue. We stopped at Cowley Road. The front display at Mabel’s had been packed away and music blared out of the open door – ‘People Get Ready’ by The Impressions. You squeezed my hand and told me it was a favourite of yours. Michael was alone in the shop, dancing and singing out loud to the song, and Sister Teresa was standing in the doorway watching him. We crossed the road and joined her. The music ended and we applauded and Michael took his bow. Sister said, Will you be coming to church this Christmas, Michael? We need singing like that.

He said, I’m afraid I won’t, Sister. Church is not for me. And he said, Do you have everything you need for the big day? And she said, We do. And he said, Wait, and went into the back. Here, he said.

Mistletoe, she laughed. Long time since I stood beneath that, and she wished us all a Merry Christmas and left.

And who is this? said Michael, turning his gaze on you. I said, This is Anne. And you said, Annie, actually. And he said, Ms Annie Actually. I like her.

The year was 1976. You were thirty. Me, twenty-five. These are the details you never thought I’d remember.

We all three sat outside in the garden behind the shop. It was cold but I didn’t feel cold with you by my side. Mabel came out to say hello, and you stood up, said, Sit here, Mabel. And she said, Not tonight. I’m going to bed to listen to the music. What music? you said. But she didn’t hear, just disappeared back inside.

We built a fire in the middle of bricks and we drank beer and ate baked potatoes and sank down into blankets as our breath misted, as stars appeared as fragile as ice crystals. The sound of a trumpet interrupted our words and we all three jumped at the back wall and held ourselves up by our fingers, as we looked across the wild and overgrown churchyard. We saw the dark silhouette of a trumpet player leaning against a tree.

Who’s that? you asked.

Dexter Shawlands, said Michael.

Who’s he? you said.

An old flame of Mabel’s. Comes here once a year to play her song.

That’s love, you said.

The next day, the alarm went off at five in the afternoon as it always did. Ellis sat up sharply. His throat felt tight and his heart was racing. Whatever confidence he had in himself had disappeared in his sleep. He knew this mood and it was a fucker of a mood because it was unpredictable, and he rolled out of bed before he couldn’t. He turned off the alarm and it would be his first triumph of the day. The second would be cleaning his teeth. The room felt cold and he went to the window. Streetlights and gloom. The phone rang and he let it ring.

The first flurry of snow fell as he cycled down Divinity Road. There was a weight to his body, and he’d tried to explain it once, to a doctor, but he never really had the words. It was a feeling, that’s all, an overwhelming feeling that started in his chest and made his eyelids heavy. A shutting down that weakened his hands and made it hard to breathe. When he passed through the gates of the factory he couldn’t remember the journey at all.

He spent the hours preoccupied and distant, and those who knew his history warned others with a quick nod or wink in his direction, meaning ‘wide berth, fellas’, and even Billy kept his head down. During a lull, he sat against his locker and took out his tobacco and began to roll. Billy stopped him and said, What you doing, Ell? And Ellis stared at him and felt the kid’s hand on his shoulder. Bell’s gone, said Billy. Dinner, Ellis. Come on. Let’s get your stuff.

In the canteen, he could feel his leg twitch. His mouth was dry and there was too much noise, it was all around him and under his skin, he could feel his heart thumping. And the smell of cooking was overwhelming and he had a plate piled high with food because word had gone round and Janice felt sorry for him, so she piled the plate high, and men nearby complained, but she shut them up with that certain look she had. And now Billy and Glynn were at it. Ever read The Stud, Glynn? Who hasn’t? Should be on the national curriculum. Ever done it on a swing, Glynn? I have actually, you ignorant twat. Oh yeah? Children’s playground?

The noise. The fucking noise, and he got up from the table. And he was outside and snow was falling and he could hear it fall. Look up, look up and he did. He opened his mouth and caught snow on his tongue. And he was calm again, out there alone, just him and snow. The noise settled and the quiet drone of traffic lifted into the sky.

Billy came out and saw him looking up with tears frozen before they could fall. And he wanted to say to Billy, I’m just trying to hold it all together, that’s all.