Clapham Lights (21 page)

‘I think I should go,’ Jenny says.

‘Is this how it’s going to end, is it? You just walking out?’ Mark turns and lays face down on the bed, away from her.

‘I didn’t want it to end like this. I loved you, Mark.’

Jenny tries to give him a kiss on the cheek, but he tells her not to touch him. She leaves the bedroom and walks into the living room where Craig is playing
War Wounds III
on the Xbox. He asks her if everything is all right. She says Mark is a bit upset and picks up her handbag. Craig gives her the exit code for the gate and she says it has been nice to meet him.

Mark slams his bedroom door and there are a succession of thuds and crashes, then some hammering on the wall and muffled wailing. Craig calls out to Mark and puts his ear to the door.

‘Mark. Are you all right, mate? You haven’t hurt yourself have you?’

There is no response. Craig turns the door handle.

‘Leave me alone,’ Mark says, his voice trembling.

‘If you want to talk, I’m right outside.’ Craig puts his ear to the door again. Mark is crying. Craig waits until it stops.

‘I heard what happened, mate,’ Craig calls out. He slides down the wall and sits cross-legged on the floor. ‘I’m really sorry. Nobody wants that to happen to them. I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend. She was quite big wasn’t she? But not in a bad way, I mean. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that.’ There is silence.

‘I had my heart broken once you know, back at home,’ Craig says. He sighs. ‘It was a girl called Roxanne. Like the song. Roxanne Clarke. I met her at my cousin’s wedding reception at the Marriot Hotel in Spixworth.

‘It was during the lower sixth summer holiday. I had a bad headache because the ceremony was outside and I’d been out in the sun all day. It was about half ten and the disco was going but I felt terrible because I’d
been drinking all day so I went outside to get some fresh air, and
Roxanne
was standing there. She was waiting for a taxi because she had to get up early for a netball match. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Long dark hair. Amazing legs. Really pretty face. She looked a bit like Hannah actually.

‘We got talking and she gave me some headache tablets. It turned out that she was the daughter of my cousin’s boss. We text each other a few times and then went to see
American Pie 2
at the Riverside. That was the first time I kissed her. It was the best date ever. All my mates were really jealous.

‘We did loads of stuff together that summer; went on a trip to the Broads, spent a day in Cromer, went to the Norfolk Show. We were just hanging out and being together really.

‘All her mates and my mates would meet up and go and get pissed down Prince of Wales Road. We even met each other’s families.

‘I would have done anything for her. But she was a year older than me and she’d just finished Caister St Edmunds Ladies’ College. She was going off to study history at De Montfort University. She said that she loved me and that we wouldn’t break up but it was never the same after she went. I went to see her a couple of times but she was different. She had her new friends and her new life and I suppose I was just a
schoolboy
.’ Craig rests his head against the wall.

‘One day I was in Castle Mall and I saw her arm-in-arm with a
massive
bloke in a De Montford rugby top. I remember I was in Superdrug buying some blister plasters. I just dropped them on the floor and ran out. I walked the streets for hours. It was like being in a nightmare. Next thing I knew, I was in Jarrold’s balling my eyes out. I had to phone my mum to come and pick me up because I was too upset to drive. I honestly felt like I wanted to die at the time. Seems stupid now.

‘I’ve seen her around a few times since but, I couldn’t talk to her. We never even officially broke up.’ Craig swallows hard. ‘So, if you want to talk, I’ve been there mate. I know what it’s like.’

He stretches out his legs and clears his throat.

Mark’s bedroom door opens. He has changed into a Jack Wills hoody and has his iPod headphones in.

‘Why are you sitting down there?’ he asks.

‘I was talking to you, checking that you were all right.’

‘Yeah, sorry. I was in the bathroom. I thought you were on the phone,’ Mark says, stepping over Craig. ‘I’m OK. Thanks. It was just a bit of a shock.’ He rattles his keys and bites his lip. ‘I’m off to that girl’s house to see if my phone’s there and then I’m going to Asda to get a pizza. Do you want anything?’

E
bony, a curvy stripper in fishnet stockings and high heels, is
gyrating
to N.E.R.D.’s
Lapdance.

Justin has booked a table at the foot of the Peppermint Pussy Cat’s main stage - a long straight runway with a semi-circular head. The club has leopard-print furniture and oversized plastic chandeliers that hardly emit any light. Every table has the gold silhouette of a naked woman stencilled on it and the same image is on the velvet curtain at the back of the stage.

Justin orders another round of drinks from a waitress in a French maid’s outfit and adjusts the two cushions on his chair. He nudges Mark and discreetly tells him that he, Lex and Horatio are going to the
bathroom
and asks if he wants to join them. Justin taps his nose. Mark tells Craig he’ll be back in a minute but Craig doesn’t take his eyes off the entertainment.

Lex and Horatio are old school friends of Justin’s and both work in banking. Lex is overweight, balding and wearing a navy pinstripe suit with a red shirt which has a white collar and cuffs. He’s spent the last twenty minutes telling Amy about his ex-wife who is a ‘stupid
brainless
bitch with a fat arse’ who comes from a ‘the poor part of
Kensington
’. Horatio is overweight, balding and wearing a navy pinstripe suite, glasses and a giant Cartier watch. The four men stroll off to the toilets leaving Amy, Ian, Craig and Julia.

Ebony turns her back to the table, bends over and blows Ian a kiss through her legs. He tries not to look embarrassed.

‘Slut,’ Julia says, watching Ebony’s huge breasts jangling just a few inches away.

‘She likes you mate,’ Craig says to Ian.

‘Strippers like anyone who they think they can milk money out of,’ he replies.

‘Or anyone who gawps at them,’ Amy adds.

‘You’ve been to strip clubs before?’ Craig says, surprised.

‘Too many. It’s Justin’s idea of team building. At least it’s a bit more comfortable here,’ Amy says, scanning the tables of businessmen. ‘He used to take us to The Muffin. Have you been there?’

‘No.’

‘It’s in Shoreditch. You put pound coins in a pint glass and some grotty old woman strips. It’s disgusting.’

‘The only strip club I’ve been to is the Byzantium Pleasure Rooms,’ Craig says.

‘Where’s that?’

‘Great Yarmouth. It was my old football team’s end of season night out. It was a bit different to this. One of the dancers went to my primary school.’

‘I don’t think most of these girls even know what a school is.’

‘Haven’t a lot of them got normal jobs and do it to earn a bit of extra money?’ Ian says after sipping his beer.

‘That’s what they’d like you to think,’ Julia says. ‘I don’t think you’d find them that alluring if you found out they were single mothers who were doing it to fund their crack habit. Look at her,’ she says with a glance to the stage, ‘she’s clearly drugged up… and she’s got cellulite.’

Ebony picks up her knickers and disappears offstage to a smattering of applause. Many of the men at other tables leave their seats and Julia pours herself another glass of Bollinger.

Justin and the three others return to the table. Lex rubs his nose whilst Horatio talks incessantly about asset management.

‘What were you doing?’ Craig asks Mark, who plonks down next to him.

‘Having a word with Justin,’ Mark says, reaching for another beer from the collection in the middle of the table.

Julia says she’s going for a cigarette. Horatio watches her tall, slim figure as she strides off. He brushes wispy strands of hair away from his eyes and scratches his armpit.

‘Justo, what’s Julia’s situation? Boyfriend?’ he asks.

‘No, binned him a few weeks ago. He lost his job. Lehman Brothers.’

‘Bad luck,’ he says, laughing.

‘You’d need a couple of mil just to keep her interested.’

‘Not a problemo,’ Horatio says with a wink.

‘Have you had a go?’ Lex asks Justin.

‘No,’ he says, pointing at his wedding ring.

‘She turned you down then?’ Horatio says, guffawing. ‘I’ll tell you what, put a word in. I’d go right through that.’

‘Bit thin,’ Lex says. ‘Be like shagging a stick.’

Amy shakes her head.

Girls on Film
starts playing and the lights are lowered. Carly, a tall blonde with bad roots takes to the stage dressed in a black bustier and G-string.

‘Now that’s a real woman,’ Horatio says, getting a wad of cash out of his pocket.

Horatio polishes off his drink and turns to Amy:

‘Do you know what I like about the girls here? They’re professional. You pay top dollar but you’re getting the best, not some rough old dog.’ He scans the menu. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks, checking nobody else is listening.

‘Not really.’

‘Why don’t the two of us head to Coq d’Argent for some supper?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come on, my treat.’

‘I’m not hungry, thanks.’

‘Not even for a hundred quid?’

‘What?’ she says, irritated.

‘Two hundred?’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

Mark, Craig and Ian are watching them.

‘Well, yes,’ Horatio says, smiling.

‘Jesus, you’re like a fucking child,’ Amy says, getting up from her seat and taking her jacket.

‘What the problem?’ Justin asks.

‘Your idiot friend seems to think I’m for hire as well,’ Amy snaps. ‘I’m going.’

Mark grabs her by the arm as she tries to leave. ‘Don’t go, don’t go.
We’re sorry. He’s only messing around.’

People at other tables are looking at them and a bouncer gets up from his stool at the bar. Amy gives Mark a fiery glare and storms out, passing Julia on the way. Ian and Craig stare at the table.

‘Justo, you need to have a word with her,’ Horatio says. ‘She’s out of control.’

‘We should get more drinks,’ Lex suggests.

‘Boys,’ Justin says, addressing Mark, Craig and Ian, ‘take this and have some fun.’ He throws a rolled up bundle of notes at Mark. ‘Enjoy
yourselves
.’ His eyes are unfocussed.

‘I need to get my train,’ Ian says.

‘Where’s your team spirit?’ Justin says. ‘Forget your girlfriend. Look at some fit girls instead. I’m paying. What’s wrong with you?’

‘Kelly just text me saying that if I don’t come home immediately, she’s locking me out.’

‘Tell her to fuck off,’ Lex says, laughing.

Ian leaves.

‘What an ungrateful bastard,’ Justin says. He turns to Mark and Craig. ‘I’m counting on you now. You’re staying with me. If you try and go home, I’ll sack you both.’

Craig looks confused. ‘But I don’t work for you.’

‘Justo, would I let you down?’ Mark says.

‘I know you wouldn’t. That’s why you’re my main man,’ he says, spilling his beer. ‘Now take that money, take your boyfriend and go see some naked women. Go on, fuck off.’

Mark leads Craig over to the bar where some of the strippers are drinking cocktails. Mark orders two bottles of Spanish lager and pays out of Justin’s money. He tells Craig to choose whichever girl he wants. Craig says he isn’t sure who to go for. A tall brunette wearing knee-high boots and a voluptuous ‘schoolgirl’ with dyed blonde hair ask them if they’d like a private dance.

‘Do you lez up?’ Mark asks.

The brunette wants to know how much money they’ve got. Mark flashes the heap in his pocket.

‘Let’s go,’ she says, taking the pair to a small private lounge. A huge bouncer with three gold hoop earrings smiles at the girls as they go in and ignores the boys.

Mark and Craig sit a couple of feet away from each other on a curved sofa. There are purple drapes hanging from the walls and the lights are dimmed.

‘Is there anything in particular you’d like us to do gentlemen?’ the ‘schoolgirl’ asks as her friend selects a track on the CD player.

‘I want the other one to strip for me,’ Mark says, pointing at the brunette. ‘You can strip for my mate, and when you’re both completely naked, and I mean completely naked, everything off, I want you to
wrestle
on that,’ Mark points to the shagpile rug on the floor, ‘and kiss each other,
everywhere
.’

Back in Black
by AC/DC blasts out and the girls begin gyrating. Craig’s stripper pulls on his tie and opens his jacket. She tells him she finds men in Jacob Perville suits a real turn on and takes a large red
lollipop
from her skirt. She sucks on it, rolls it around on her tongue and then pops it into Craig’s open mouth.

‘What’s your name?’ she asks, blowing into Craig’s ear.

‘Craig,’ he says. ‘What’s yours?’

‘Lara.’ She’s unbuttoning her shirt to reveal a lacy red bra.

‘Like the cricketer.’

‘What?’ she says, swaying into him.

‘Like Brian Lara.’

‘Who’s that, handsome?’

‘Don’t worry,’ he says as Lara puts her left foot on the sofa and seductively lifts her skirt over her smooth legs to reveal a silky garter.

‘You’re a bit shy aren’t you, Craig?’ Lara says, undoing the clasp on her bra and slipping it off.

‘No,’ he mumbles, transfixed by her chest.

‘Tell me, do you like schoolgirls?’ she whispers in his ear.

‘Umm, yes.’

‘Do you like me, Craig?’ Lara says, standing over him with her
nipples
only millimetres from his lips.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know how old I am?’

‘Thirty-five?’

‘No, you cheeky bastard,’ she says, slipping out of character. ‘I’m sixteen. I’m a sixteen-year-old virgin looking for a hunky man like you to teach me about sex. Can you do that for me?’ she asks, hovering above his lap.

‘I’ll try. You’re not sixteen though are you?’

‘I’m whatever age you want me to be.’ She licks her index fingers and runs them over her nipples.

‘But you’re not sixteen though, are you? Or a virgin?’

‘I am a virgin, Craig,’ she says, licking her lips.

‘Really, and you’re a stripper?’

Suddenly she pins his shoulders to the sofa. ‘It’s role play,’ she says softly. ‘I’m just going to dance and you can watch and enjoy. I think it’s better if we don’t talk.’

Mark is laid back on the sofa, nodding his head to the music. His semi-naked stripper dances in front of him, teasing him that she’s about to remove her G-string. She has a large butterfly tattoo on her lower back and a pierced left nipple.

‘Take them off,’ Mark demands. ‘I want to see the lot.’

She straddles him and he pokes a few £20 notes into her waistband. She jumps to her feet, turns her back on him and tantalisingly slides her underwear over her tanned bottom.

‘That’s the shizzle!’ Mark says. ‘Turn around, turn around.’

She wiggles her hips, pushes her breasts into his face and he growls.

The door flies open and a massive bouncer with gold front teeth and a knife tattooed on his neck tears in and hauls Mark off the floor by his throat. He elbows Mark in the chest and then punches him on the side of the head sending him flying onto the sofa. Someone turns the lights up.

‘Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me,’ Mark begs, holding his face.

The bouncer holds him by the collar and asks the girls if they are all right.

‘We’re OK,’ the brunette says, hurriedly putting her clothes back on. ‘He could have broken my back the fat prick,’ she says, pointing at Mark.

‘What did he do?’ the bouncer asks, putting his knee onto Mark’s chest.

‘We were wrestling on the floor and the fucking twat dived on us.’

‘It was a flying elbow drop,’ Mark moans. ‘I was getting into-’

‘Shut up, you,’ the bouncer snarls. ‘Have you been paid, girls?’

Mark takes a bundle of notes from his pocket.

‘That should cover it,’ the bouncer says, grabbing the wad out of Mark’s hand.

‘But that’s all my money.’

The bouncer digs his fist into Mark’s neck and pulls him to his feet, tearing the arm of his suit. He’s marched out through the club with Craig in tow.

Justin, Lex and Horatio are sprawled over the table. They give Mark a drunken ovation.

As they reach the entrance, the bouncer slams Mark against a wall, tells him not to come back until he’s learned to behave, and throws him out onto Oxford Street. He thanks Craig and says that he’d be welcome back without his friend.

A pair of drunken women in trouser suits stagger arm-in-arm towards Tottenham Court Road as Mark rests up against a closed mobile phone shop and inspects his torn sleeve. He also has a small bump over his left eye. There is a homeless person asleep under a pile of blankets in the shop’s doorway.

Mark checks his iPhone. He has seven missed calls from ‘Home’, three text messages and four new voicemails. He deletes all of them.

Craig asks him if he wants anything and is sent over the road to get chicken chow mein and a drink from the Nice Wok Chinese buffet.

They sit on the steps of an HSBC bank eating from foil containers.

‘I want another drink,’ Mark says, forking more greasy noodles into his mouth.

‘Mark, we need to go home.’

‘No, come on, don’t be boring. I’m not at work tomorrow. You can pull a sickie.’

Mark holds the container up to his mouth and the last few noodles slither in. He then hails a taxi, tells the driver to take him to Embassy and shouts at Craig to forget his food and get in.

Mark opens one eye and lets out a long, sorry moan. His iPhone keeps vibrating. It’s 9.16 a.m. and ‘Home’ has called fourteen times.

He reaches out to the bedside table and accidently knocks a pint of water over the business section of
The Sunday Times
. He mops the water up with a hand towel and picks up his watch. Yesterday’s suit and shirt are on the floor.

‘Shit, shit,’ he says to himself, falling out of bed. He runs into the
bathroom and drops to his knees in front of the toilet, forcing his fingers down his throat, but nothing comes up. He spits into the bowl and has a freezing two-minute shower which makes him shiver uncontrollably. His phone is vibrating again. This time he answers it: