Incendiary (20 page)

And then I started thinking maybe that was your secret after all. Maybe everyone was looking for you in the wrong place. Maybe you were sitting on Knightsbridge right now drinking a Frappuccino outside Starbucks in a check Barbour shirt and light-tan chinos smoking a Marlboro Light. Maybe the girl at the table next to yours was saying Good lord I suppose you get this all the time but you look just like Osama bin Laden without the beard. And maybe you were laughing and saying yes it can be a frightful bore listen do you know where a bloke can get hold of a decent-sized lump of Semtex round here?

Petra was saying something. She looked cross with me. I’d been off in my own world I suppose.

—Come on, said Petra. We haven’t got all day. These clothes aren’t going to cleverly select themselves.

I followed her into Harvey Nichols. An old man in a grey tailcoat and top hat held the door for us.

—Thank you Tom darling, said Petra.

—Always a pleasure madam, said Tom.

He looked at my clothes and frowned. We went inside and the traffic noise closed behind us. It didn’t smell posh in Harvey Nichols it smelled of all the different perfumes in the world very strong and mixed up together. It felt like having your throat scraped. I took my boy into John Lewis once and it smelled just like that in the perfume section. Yuk Mummy he said. It smells nice and nasty all at once. It smells of angels’ feet.

I kept my head down and followed Petra. We walked right through the first floor without stopping. It was all just perfume and
BE PREPARED
sort of stuff anyway. Louis Vuitton crisis bags and gas masks by Kenzo with matching headscarves. On the up escalator Petra turned and looked down at me.

—Right then, said Petra. Here we are in Harvey Nick’s. I’d better talk you through it. Floors 1 and 2 are ours. Forget the third floor it’s ghastly. The first floor is the designer stuff. Alexander McQueen Bottega Veneta Dries Van Noten. Nobody actually wears that stuff but it is essential that it exist because it adds a sense of mystery to existence. It’s a bit like Mummy’s makeup. It’s just for looking at it’s not for touching. The clothes one actually wears are on the second floor. And here we are now.

We stepped off the escalator.

—Let’s have some fun, said Petra. Choose anything you want.

I followed Petra around the floor. She looked so happy stroking her hand across this and that. Stopping to go ooh at some of the clothes like she was a gardener and she was so pleased with how her flowers had come up. I was a bit lost. The problem with Harvey Nichols was that you couldn’t work out what any of their clothes were for. Nothing was the shape of actual clothes. There was nothing you could look at and say Ooh look that’s a nice pair of trousers. Don’t get me wrong it was lovely stuff but it was all lovely silky fluttery stuff with lace tabs and things you had to know how to fasten around you before the stuff became clothes. The labels weren’t any help either. The brands were called things like
PHILOSOPHY
and
THEORY
and
IMITATION OF CHRIST
. They didn’t sound like clothes they sounded like the things I failed my GCSEs because of. Petra grinned at me.

—Do cheer up, she said. Why wear a long face when you could be wearing Helmut Lang?

I kept moving. I was terrified in case Petra made me try something on and I didn’t know how to. Give me a Kappa T-shirt any day Osama at least you don’t need a degree to know which hole your head goes through.

I gave up looking at the clothes. It was more interesting looking at the other shoppers. They were the kind of women that wouldn’t be seen dead without their Prada handbag and Chanel sunglasses. You’re a bit of a Knightsbridge girl yourself at heart Osama. We never see you without your AK47 and matching bullet belt I suppose Allah is big on accessories.

All those classy Knightsbridge women were making me nervous. The only accessory I had was Mr. Rabbit in my pocket. He came with me everywhere. I put my hand on Petra’s arm and she stopped and turned.

—Listen Petra. I don’t know what I’m looking for here. The last place I went clothes shopping was H&M. You’re going to have to help me out.

Petra laughed.

—Oh no, she said. Aren’t you something? Alright. I’m looking at you and I’m thinking white slacks from Helmut Lang and a pretty tunic top. Maybe Celine. And some nice strappy heels oh and a decent bag. Here. Follow me.

Petra was away. She was dashing between the racks grabbing clothes off the rails and throwing them over her arms. She knew just what she was doing she never stopped till her arms were full. She was all out of breath.

—Right, she said. Let’s see what these look like on.

We went to the changing rooms. The attendant just smiled and found us a cubicle. Apparently she wasn’t worried I was going to sneak out wearing Herms slacks under my trackie bottoms. I suppose they don’t get much of my sort at Harvey Nick’s. It was a big changing cubicle and me and Petra went in together. There was plenty of room. Petra locked the door behind us.

—Right, she said. We’ll start with the trousers.

I just looked at her.

—What is it? she said.

—You want me to take my trousers off? Here? With you watching?

Petra rolled her eyes.

—Oh good god, she said.

She pushed me down so I was sitting on the bench and she knelt to pull my Pumas off. Then she pulled my trousers down like a busy mum getting her kid ready for swimming lessons. When she saw my old grey knickers she stopped. She dropped her chin onto her neck and sighed out of her nose.

—Oh dear, she said. I’ll be right back.

When she was gone I stood up in the changing cubicle and watched myself in the mirror. It felt strange on account of I wasn’t used to staring at myself. I never had the time I suppose. And now here I was seeing myself right after watching all those classy ladies and it was a bit of a shock. I looked like something you find at the back of the cupboard. I was ashamed. It’s funny what a bomb can do Osama I never used to care how I looked but now I blushed. I stared down at the carpet tiles.

In a little while Petra came back into the cubicle with a bunch of fancy undies and she locked the door behind her again.

—Right, she said. Choose what you like and put it on. Bra and panties. You’ll notice that everything is white and simple. Lesson one. The artist begins with a blank canvas.

We looked at each other.

—Alright. But don’t watch.

—Cross my heart and hope to die, said Petra.

She turned round and put her hands over her eyes. I took my knickers off and I felt the cool air against me. My tummy jumped. It felt like I was falling. I took off my Nike top and my bra and I let them drop on the carpet tiles. I got goose bumps. It was very quiet in the cubicle. You could hear Petra breathing and you could hear the little bright spotlights buzzing. I stood there for a moment. I was thinking nothing much. Then I put on a pair of the white knickers and one of the bras. I don’t know if they matched I didn’t care. I swallowed. My heart was going.

—Alright you can turn round now.

Petra turned round and her eyes went up and down me.

—Mmm, she said.

I blushed. I folded my arms over my tummy and I pressed my knees together.

—Relax, said Petra. Deep breaths. You’re doing fine.

I liked the first pair of trousers Petra handed me. They were bright white and silky. They felt lovely against my skin it was like swimming in cold milk. Petra grinned when she saw them on me.

—Good god, she said. I knew you were a diamond in the rough. We’ll be fighting the boys off with a stick.

The next thing we tried on was the strappy heels. The pair we chose was Fendi. They made me a foot taller I swear. The top half wasn’t so easy. We tried 4 tunic tops before we found one Petra liked. It was Herms and I could of kept my boy in food and clothes for 2 years for what it cost I’m not joking. I showed Petra the price tag.

—Look they’ve made a mistake.

—No, said Petra. They’ve made about 100 million pounds this year. And you know why? Because clothes are like magic. It’s a small price to pay.

—Yeah right.

I was laughing at Petra but then I turned to look at myself in the mirror and I gasped. It was crazy. I could of been on the cover of a magazine. I was tall and beautiful and all I could think was HA! I’d like to see you banging on about caravans when you get an eyeful of THIS Terence Butcher. I looked at myself I just stared and stared I was so happy I started to cry. I watched the tears run down my face I was thinking Oh dear god it really could happen couldn’t it my luck really could change.

—I look alright don’t I?

Petra came up close behind me and she put her chin on my shoulder and her hands on my waist. She was grinning at me in the mirror.

—Here’s to turning a new page, she said.

We both just stood there for ages watching the new me. I smiled back at Petra in the mirror. She was so like me especially now we were both dressed classy. It was like we were sisters but you couldn’t really tell till we were dressed the same. Petra had thick pink gloss on her lips. It was nice and shiny like the back of a beetle.

The flames started in the ends of Petra’s hair and they moved along it like a fuse. They spread to her face quite quickly. Her hair burned yellowy blue like a gas fire. The lacquer on her lips started to go brown and blister. Her lips started moving but it wasn’t Petra’s voice that came out it was my boy’s. Mummy her lips said help Mummy my hair’s on fire it hurts it hurts.

I turned round and I pushed Petra to the floor of the cubicle. I rolled her across the blue carpet tiles trying to put the fire out. She was screaming and kicking and swearing blue murder at me. The flames were spreading up my arms too. My whole front was on fire I could feel the wire of the new bra red hot and sizzling into the soft skin under my tits. It hurt so bad I don’t have the words. The skin was peeling off my hands but I kept trying to put the flames out. I grabbed all the clothes we’d been trying on and I pushed them down all over Petra’s body. I was trying to smother the flames but all the clothes caught fire instead. It all went up in flames the Katherine Hamnett and Armani and Diane von Furstenberg it all looked the same when it was burning.

I started to scream there was nothing else I could do my hands were burned down to stumps. I closed my eyes. I could still hear my boy’s voice screaming out of Petra’s mouth MUMMY MUMMY WHY DON’T YOU HELP ME? I put my arms over my ears and screamed into the smoke and the dark.

*                  *                  *

The first thing I heard was Petra’s voice. It’s okay she was saying. It’s okay it’s over it’s okay. I opened my eyes. I was sitting on the floor of the cubicle and there were clothes lying all around me. Nothing was on fire. Nothing hurt. A first aider was in the cubicle with us and she was dabbing at a scratch on my face with witch hazel. It stung but I always did love the smell of witch hazel. Petra was holding my head and stroking the hair back off my face. Deep breaths she was saying. Deep breaths. Could someone please fetch us a glass of water?

I looked up. There were security guards outside the cubicle watching us. One of them nipped off and came back with a plastic cup of water. It was half full and warm. The water tasted of blood I suppose I must of bit my tongue.

—Is your friend going to be alright? said the first aider.

Petra looked at me. Her hair was all messed up and her eye makeup was running it was obvious she’d been crying. She smiled at me.

—Of course she’s going to be alright, said Petra. Can you get up?

—I think so.

I stood up with the first aider helping me. My head felt light. Like it might just up sticks any moment and float off into the Shield of Hope. After a while the first aider and the security guards left us alone. I watched myself in the mirror. I was very pale in my bright new clothes. I looked at Petra.

—I’m so sorry.

She hugged me for a long time. I was shaking. We stood there in the cubicle and it was very quiet again with just our breathing and the sound of the spotlights buzzing.

We left my old clothes behind in the cubicle. The only thing I took out of there was Mr. Rabbit. Petra paid for the clothes I was wearing. It came to more than our old Astra.

When we got outside it was lunchtime. The weather was lovely. Hyde Park was right in front of us on the other side of Knightsbridge.

—Let’s keep you out in the fresh air for a while, said Petra. We’ll go on the Serpentine. We’ll bob around on a boat.

—I don’t like boats they make me nervous.

—No they don’t, said Petra. And if we get bored we’ll step ashore and seduce the park wardens.

I was in a bit of a daze still. Petra had to get hold of my wrist and lead me. We went into a take-away place I don’t remember which. Petra bought sushi and 2 bottles of cold white wine and we walked into the park as far as the Serpentine.

There was a long queue to hire a rowing boat so Petra stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. She hailed this young couple who were already in one of the boats like they were a cab. She gave them 50 quid to turn the thing over to us she was that kind of girl. I was very wobbly getting into the rowing boat I don’t think they were meant for heels. We had a go with the paddles but we couldn’t work out how to make the boat go straight so we just let it drift.

We lay back in the bottom of the boat. It was less wobbly that way. You’d of thought it’d be nice out there on the water but it wasn’t particularly. The sky was blue but you couldn’t see much of it what with all the balloons in the Shield of Hope. They hadn’t chosen very nice people for the balloons round Hyde Park anyway. The faces were mostly fat blokes who looked like they could tuck the pints away. They were the sort of blokes who’d call each other by nicknames like oi Baz and oi Todger and you could imagine them pinching your bum at a New Year’s Eve party. Saying How about it darling? It was funny seeing those dead fat blokes 500 feet up in the air saving us from kamikazes. It might of been the first decent thing they’d done in their lives most of them.