The Church and the Tradesman - 11. The Fall Guy

I was shaking uncontrollably from the near freezing temperature and probably also from fear as the ledge beneath me began to crumble. There was nothing under my left foot anymore and when I looked down I became dizzy and disorientated. I slipped and my heart jumped, then the world began to spiral as I fell forward. My body somersaulting as I plummeted to the ground.

It was all over in a blink of an eye. I didn’t even get to see my life flash before my eyes. I guess it was too short a fall even for my brief existence. It was perhaps an undignified end to a short but complex life that never really achieved its full potential.

I was thinking I must have died because I was staring at the fabled white light and walking towards it with a sudden spring in my step. I felt good. No trepidation or regret but a warm, comforting feeling of elation and well-being. It was ironic that I had to be dead in order to feel so alive.

This was not how I imagined it would be; dying was never portrayed as a particularly pleasant experience and I wasn’t expecting them to roll out the red carpet, especially for an unrepentant sinner like me.

There were voices that I vaguely recognised but couldn’t understand and soon they became distant as I slipped into a state of total repose. I became suspended from reality as a warm and pleasant sensation washed over me like the ripples on a pond gently lapping against my skin.

I would have happily stayed in this semi-consciousness state forever but it wasn’t to be. The voices became clearer and one was particularly loud and easily recognisable. If Bob was here, then maybe I was in the wrong place—or probably not dead at all.

“ANDY!”

“What?” My eyes sprang opened like the traps at Crayford dogs. I was in a hospital bed and it looked for a moment as if Bob was going to join me as I startled him.

“Fuck my old boots! You almost give me a heart attack.”

“Where am I?” I tried to get up but my movement was restricted and I could only lift my head and arms. The rest of my body was completely numb.

“You’re in the UCH, you pleb.”

‘UCH. University College Hospital. Why’?

“I was having a really nice dream until you woke me up.” I was talking to myself. Bob was temporarily distracted and I followed his eyes across the room to the backside of a rather plump-looking female nurse. She had turned her back on us to open the blinds. It brought daylight and sunshine into the room and an open invitation for Bob to drool at her female form. It made me wonder how often Bob got it from his misses if he got any at all.

“How are you feeling now, Andy?” asked the nurse. This side of her looked a lot better than the one Bob was ogling and it came with a smiling face.

I wasn’t really sure how I felt. I couldn’t feel any pain and I couldn’t remember why I was in the hospital. Bob repeated her question, covering me in his bad breath.

“I can’t feel anything.”

“That’s the painkiller,” she said. “We gave you morphine.”

“He’s out of his nut.”

Bob was right in his assumption. Morphine certainly did the trick. I felt calm, relaxed, and well-rested, without a single pain or discomfort.

“I’m going to let the doctor know that you're awake,” said the nurse who was less than half Bob’s age and probably relieved to get away from his lecherous stares.

“In that case, I’m off for a quick fag,” said Bob. “I’ll be back in a while.”

“Yeah, cheers Bob.”

I wondered why he was there in the first place. He wasn’t the type to hang around hospital wards without a good reason and it had to be more than a few predatory glances at the nurses.

When he left, I had a quick look around the room. It was well-kept and quite comfortable. More than what I would have expected from the NHS. But I still didn’t know why I was there.

“The doctor wants to have a word with you, Andy. He’ll be along shortly.” The nurse was kind and more relaxed now that Bob was no longer at my bedside. “Do you want to watch the television?”

It had to be better than looking at Bob so she wheeled the big screen to the foot of my bed, adjusted my pillows, and handed me the remote control.

‘Who said the hospitals were underfunded’?

Now I could see where the voices were coming from. It was a political talk show and Tony Blair was being interviewed. The programme was familiar to me. It usually aired late on Sunday mornings, when Jazz and I would watch it after getting back from…SHIT!

“What day is it?”

“Sunday.”

“Did I go to church?”

“You had a fall. Don’t you remember?”

“No, why is Bob here?”

“Bob?”

“The fat annoying man.”

“Oh, he was with you when they brought you in.”

I vaguely remembered now being wheeled into the hospital. I was wrapped in a blanket but still shivering from the cold and breathing from an oxygen mask. It was chaotic; there were a lot of people around me. Police, security guards and people taking photographs. A lot of flashes. I could still see them when I closed my eyes.

“Mr Richardson. I’m Doctor Patel. I’m a consultant here at UCH. How are you feeling now?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s the painkillers that are making you feel a little odd. You had quite a fall there, this morning. You have a back injury but it’s not serious. You were very lucky you landed in a bush. It seems to have broken your fall.”

“Bush…shit!” I suddenly remembered the whole night. It came back to me in a flash. Everything! Tyrone! Mrs Dewsbury! Falling from the window ledge!

‘I tried to kill myself’!

The doctor must have known it too, that was why I was being referred for counselling. Everyone would know, even Bob.

“Did you jump from the window on purpose?”

“No, I slipped,” I said but his expression told me that my lie wasn’t even remotely believable.

“Well, the police will want to question you but we’ve asked them to leave you alone for a while to allow you time to recover.”

‘The police, Tyrone…what happened after I jumped’?

The doctor left me with a sympathetic hand on my shoulder but behind those sombre eyes, like everyone else, he must have been wondering why I had jumped naked out of a pop star’s window.

“You didn’t have any clothes with you when you arrived,” said the nurse. “You may want to get someone to bring you some in to go home in.” She gave me a teasing smile but our little moment was rudely interrupted by the arrival of a brash visitor.

He was scruffy and round, wearing an ill-fitting suit with trousers that didn’t quite touch his shoes.

“Andy, isn’t it?” I nodded cautiously. He had a vodka face, red and blotchy, with deep-set eyes and a Bobby Charlton style comb-over. “Are you alright to talk?” He didn’t look like a policeman but I thought it was a fair assumption to make.

‘So much for being allowed to rest’.

“Are you Tyrone’s boyfriend?”

“What? No, definitely not.” I wasn’t expecting him to be so direct and his question caught me and the nurse off-guard.

“Why were you in his room then?”

“I was…fixing his plumbing.”

“Brilliant!” he said and jotted it down. “I love it. You're a plumber?”

I looked at the nurse for help but she was struggling to keep a straight face. There were more questions fired in rapid succession.

“What happened? What were you doing outside the window? How long have you known him?”

“Wait a minute, I can only answer one question at a time and I want a solicitor.”

He laughed. “I like you, Andy. How much do want for the whole bloody story?”

“You're not a policeman?”

“No, don’t be daft. News of the World.” He reached out a grubby hand for me to shake before smiling apologetically at my condition. I could barely lift my arm from the bed. “How much do you want for the exclusive?”

“If you're not a policeman then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” said the nurse.

“Don’t be afraid luv. Just asking him a few questions. Freedom of the press an all that.”

“You're not supposed to be in here. I’m calling security.”

“All right darling, don’t get your knickers in a twist. How about ten grand?”

“Ten grand?”

“Fifteen then? I’ve only got to make a phone call and it’s yours as long as you don’t talk to anyone else. I don’t want the Mirror getting in on this.”

I was horrified but tempted. Fifteen thousand pounds was almost a years’ wages at Jay’s plumbing and right on cue, I could see Bob’s hungry boat race in the background.

“Take it, Andy.”

The journalist turned on a sixpence to speak to my colleague.

“Is this your dad, Andy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Bob.

“Grandad then? I can see the resemblance.” The reporter had an evil sounding laugh which was quite funny especially when directed at Bob.

“I work with him. Why? Who are you?”

“News of the World. You don’t mind if ask a few questions before the security guards throw me out do you? It’ll be worth your while.” He grabbed Bob’s greasy hand, shaking it vigorously and my colleague must have thought he had hit the jackpot. His eyes lit up like a row of lemons.

My life was ruined. Bob would tell this man everything he wanted to hear, and more, whether it was true or not.

“What do you wanna know?”

“I wanna know what your mate Andy err.”

“Richardson,” offered Bob.

“That’s it. Andy Richardson.” The eager reporter quickly scribbled my name into his notepad.

“Cheers Bob. What did you tell him my name for?”

It was too easy for the scruffy journalist and he loosened his tie before jotting down Bob’s name in his little book.

“So Bob, how old are you?”

“Forty-two.”

“Don’t make me laugh, what’s that around the waist?”

“Cheeky fucker!”

I thought he was quite funny but I could see the security guards arriving through the window to the corridor.

“Hold up, here comes trouble. Andy, very quickly. What were you doing in Tyrone’s bedroom?”

“Fixing the radiator,” said Bob.

“That’s enough,” said the nurse.

“At four in the morning? Were you there with him when he fell out of the window?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I might have been.”

“That’s better. Now, why wasn’t he wearing any clothes? Do you lot normally work in the nude?”

“Hold up! Ain’t you supposed to be paying us for this?” Bob’s mind was on the money but the reporter wanted a story and it quickly descended into chaos.

Our journalist friend wasn’t the most cooperative of characters and put up a tenacious rear-guard action to grab his scoop. He offered me ever-increasing amounts of money and fired several quick questions at me as he was bundled out of the door by two security guards and rather burly male nurse.

“Your friend doesn’t have to leave,” said the nurse but Bob had already gone, following the promise of dosh liked a carrot on a stick. I had a feeling I hadn’t seen the last of the News of the World.

The morphine was still nulling my senses but my karma had been well and truly blown to pieces and I tried to make some sense of what had been a bizarre twenty-four hours.

“He’s crazy isn’t he?” said the nurse.

“That’s nothing, you should try working with him.”

“I meant the reporter.” She laughed before she left. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Wait, I need to call my parents and my friend.”

“Your parents have been informed. They’ll be here soon.”

Now I was really panicking.

‘I am so screwed. What do I say to them? How can this possibly be explained’?

I had a feeling that my day was going to get a lot worse and this was confirmed by the next visitor.

- Sun 1.30 pm -

I was trying to piece together the chaotic series of events leading to my near demise when I heard the now familiar but rancid tones of a nightmare which I thought had been left behind. I shuddered, sunk back into the bed and tried to cover my face as Mrs Dewsbury appeared in the doorway.

Her heavily made-up face was screwed up like a dried prune as her eyes bore into me as she breezed into the room like Cruella De Ville. She was followed by a fairly diminutive figure dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans.

He looked ridiculous in an oversized baseball cap that covered his ears and sat on the rims of his designer sunglasses. It seemed like no one in his entourage had bothered to tell him how stupid he looked but I wasn’t so sparing and laughed.

“You're an asshole.”

“Good to see you're still alive and you haven’t lost your sense of humour,” he said.

“I’m being serious,” I said before turning on Mrs Dewsbury. “So have you come to apologise.”

“Certainly not.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Mrs Dewsbury, can I have some time alone with Andy please?” said Tyrone and she nodded and grimaced as she joined his bodyguard in the busy corridor.

The singer’s presence in the hospital had created quite a stir and a small crowd, mainly staff had gathered to peer in through the solitary window. Tyrone rolled his eyes and fiddled with the cord until the curious faces disappeared behind a wall of Venetian blinds.

“Nice room you got here. It cost me quite a bit of money.”

I should have guessed I was in a private room. It was the very least he could do.

I decided to ignore him and I tried my best not to look at him but he was a difficult character to ignore. As much as I hated him I couldn’t deny he had a certain presence about him that commanded your attention and it wasn’t just his outlandish dress sense or his pretty face. There was more to it than that. There was definitely a star quality about him which reflected in his arrogant swagger. I disliked it but couldn’t ignore it.

“Do you mind if I sit down here?” He pointed to the bed and then sat down before I gave him permission.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to see if you were okay. You could have really hurt yourself, you know?”

“No fucking kidding. I thought it would be a laugh to chuck myself off a building.”

He didn’t find my statement amusing and waited until the last drops of venom left my lips before continuing undeterred.

“You didn’t need to do that; I would have told them everything.”

I chuckled at his words. “Don’t make me laugh?”

“I didn’t mean it to go that far, it was only supposed to be a joke. None of this is your fault. I know.”

“Well, thanks, Tyrone. I really appreciate that unfortunately no one is going to fucking believe you.”

He looked down at his lap and rubbed his hands together as he waited again for my anger to subside.

“Mrs Dewsbury made it worse. She overreacts. I told her the truth this morning.”

I didn’t want to know about Mrs Dewsbury and I didn’t care what she thought about me. I was more concerned about the press and police.

“I doubt if you even know the truth, Tyrone. You live in a total make-believe world.”

“I know that I invited you to stay the night with me; that’s real. And I told her.”

“Do you expect me to be shocked? She must know you're gay.”

“Oh, yeah. They all do but they try to keep it quiet. They don’t want to make it public in case it affects sales.”

“You're trying to keep it quiet?”

“Uh huh.”

“How’s that going then?”

“Not good. Your little circus act created a bit of interest. There’s a lot of reporters outside the front of the hospital and it’s been on the news all morning.” He picked up the remote control and began flicking through the channels looking for the news. “They got a few pictures of you but they haven’t got your name yet.”

“Yes, they have. The News of the World’s been in here.”

“That’s not good. I sued that paper last year for making up a story about me.”

“It’s not nice when people do that. IS IT?”

“No,” he said, “but the story was true. They just didn’t have any proof. They’ve been out to get me ever since.”

“You're a fucking tosser.”

“You shouldn’t swear so much; it doesn’t suit you. Your voice is kinda neat until you swear.” He smiled from the corner of his mouth but I wanted to punch him. I had landed a pretty good punch on his nose earlier and I thought I had broken it. At least I was hoping but I could see no evidence of any damage from the outside. He must have noticed me studying it though.

“It’s still sore. Where you punched me.” He touched it with his finger and winced but he was laying it on a bit thick and I laughed.

“Oh, you poor fucking baby. It’s about fucking time that somebody did that to your pretty little fucking face. I’m glad it hurts you. I wish I had broken it.”

“You're only swearing now because I said I don’t like it. You're trying to get to me.”

“You think. If I wasn’t in a hospital bed, then I would be punching your face in by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I definitely would!”

“I don’t think so.” Tyrone dismissed my comments with a wave of his hand before walking to the door and jerking it open to reveal a huddle of hospital staff with their ears to the entrance. Cleaners, nurses, even a doctor. He shook his head disapprovingly as the scattered in every direction like a flock of birds.

“Where is my security guy. Probably trying to screw one of the nurses.” He pulled the door shut and walked across the room pretending to study the clipboard at the foot of my bed. “They get everywhere; you know? They hide in cupboards, corners, anywhere they can, just to see me or touch me. It’s creepy. There may be some under your bed.” He leaned forward to check under the bed as he said it to add some drama to his words. He was a good actor but I had already seen the movie.

“I feel so sorry for you.”

“What would you know?”

“Nothing. I’m just s plumber.”

“Exactly. And not a very good one at that. I hope you're coming back tomorrow to fix what you couldn’t do yesterday in fifteen hours?”

I laughed. “I won’t have a job tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because normal people can’t get away with that kind of thing and my workmate is probably outside as we talk selling his story and your underpants to the fucking press.”

“My underpants?”

“Yeah,” I said nonchalantly. “He stole them from your room.”

“Why?”

“To sell or hang in his trophy cabinet. I dunno. That’s Bob.”

He screwed up his face. “That’s disgusting!”

“Same thing. But who cares, I’m basically screwed. The press are going to humiliate me.”

“Welcome to showbiz, Andy. Now you know how it feels.”

“BOLLOCKS! It doesn’t bother you. You don’t give a flying fuck what they say because they can’t hurt you. Scandal is good for you; it keeps your name in the papers. You thrive on scandal.”

“I’m impressed, Andy. You should be my agent.”

“No thanks!”

He thought it was funny. “You're stubborn to the point of being ridiculous. I could pay you more money than the fat man.”

“I don’t work for him but it wouldn’t be difficult to match my wages anyway.”

“Okay, you're hired. You can tell your boss to where to stick his job?”

“You're crazy, I would never work for you.”

“Why not?”

“I hate you, for one thing.”

“So does Mrs Dewsbury.”

“I’m not like her. I wouldn’t crawl around like she does. Now if you don’t mind, you can FUCK OFF and leave me alone.”

It seemed as if I was finally getting through to him. He looked surprised by my mini outburst and recoiled, sitting quietly for a minute.

“No one ever talks like that to me, you know? I mean it. No one has ever told me to fuck off. Not like you just did anyway.”

I found that difficult to believe and shook my head.

“Come off it.”

“No, I’m serious. Everyone else just agrees with everything I say. They try to humour me and make excuses for my bad behaviour. No matter what I do, it’s never my fault and Mrs Dewsbury’s always there to write out a cheque for any inconvenience. You’d be surprised what I can get away with.”

“Not anymore I wouldn’t.”

“Most people are star struck. Even if they don’t like me, they still wanna talk to me, so they can tell their friends or grab a souvenir like your fat friend. He probably never listens to any of my music but he was happy to accept a signed CD and it didn’t stop him from stealing my underwear.”

“Yeah, well that’s Bob.”

“No, it’s not just Bob. It’s pretty much everyone—except you.”

“I told you. I’m not impressed by you, I don’t think you're particularly talented, The CD that you gave to me was for Jazz. I will never listen to it because I don’t like your songs and…and there’s a lot of other things that I don’t like about you too, I just can’t think of them all at the moment….”

“That’s exactly what I mean. No one else says that to me.”

“Well, they need to, because you're shit.”

He threw his hands in the air theatrically and walked to the window.

“I love you, Andy. For a jerk, you're actually quite cool.” His cheerful tone changed, however, when he looked down at the street below. Oh my God, I’m never going to get out of here. You have no idea how many people are outside the front of this hospital. This is crazy.”

I strained my neck but I couldn’t see. Then when he looked at me, I pretended not to be interested.

“Do you want me to move the bed closer to the window so you can see?”

“No, I’m not interested in your fans.”

“It’s not just me they want to see. They want you too, Andy.”

“You're enjoying this, aren’t you? It’s worked perfectly for you. All this publicity after just releasing a new album. No doubt it will generate some interest in your flagging career.”

“My career isn’t flagging!” He looked indignantly at me as I folded my arms and gave a wry smile.

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t and I can prove it. You can see the latest sales figures if you want and the music polls. I’m gonna collect two awards on Tuesday at the Brits.”

“Only two?”

“How many are you collecting smart ass?” I ignored his comment to concentrate on his weakness. He had handed me this one on a plate.

“The newspapers have been predicting four.”

“No way I would get four.”

“That’s what everyone expects. So you're not doing as well as you think. You lost two awards. That’s pretty shitty.”

“Ha, I didn’t lose any. I’ve won two.”

“Lost two!”

“I haven’t lost any, you, dumb shit.”

“No, but it’s gonna feel like it now isn’t it? And you shouldn’t swear; it doesn’t suit you.”

He stood there for a while watching me as I pretended to watch the TV. They were showing the football and I turned the volume up. I thought he might take the hint and leave me alone but he grabbed the remote from my hand and turned it down again.

“You still here. I thought you would be rehearsing your acceptance speech not hanging around hospital wards talking to out of work plumbers.”

He giggled at that remark before changing his expression again to anger. It was a reminder to me that this was still just a game to him.

“Do you want me to go then?”

“I didn’t ask you to visit in the first place.”

“You don’t want me to leave.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you like me. Everyone likes me.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I fucking don’t. Are you forgetting I tried to kill myself last night to get away from you.”

“You jumped into a bush, from the first floor. It’s not possible to die like that. All you did was bring attention to yourself. You're an exhibitionist.” I tried to grab him. “And a violent one too. You're lucky that I’m not gonna press any charges for the punch on my nose.”

“Is this the reason why you came here today, to torment me?”

“No, I came to make sure you were okay. I like you, Andy. You don’t believe me, do you?”

I wasn’t listening. Something else had grabbed my attention.

“Shit!”

“What are you looking at?”

My eyes were on the television behind him and I picked up the remote control to fumble with the volume.

There was a reporter outside the front of the hospital and she was about to interview Bob!