Lost in Manchester - 23. Tremors. April 2010. Adam, Thomas, James, Ali

Before an earthquake there is quiet. Pressure builds and builds, but the rocks don’t move. They stand their ground, trying not to shift. They close their eyes tight and try desperately to hold themselves steady under the increasing force against them. But then eventually, inevitably, a rock somewhere crumbles, and then another and then another. The quake is still a way off, but there are tremors.

The week that followed the party, there were tremors.

Sunday (Adam)

Adam awoke to the mess of the post-party flat. James had gone out for an early morning run and, unable to face cleaning on his own, he arranged to head across to Ali and Daniel’s.

They brought him tea and all sat down on the sofa looking like a vertigo sufferers group after a rollercoaster ride.

“Man, my head hurts” Adam summarised. “How are you guys?”

Ali shrugged. “Still powerless to the rolling tanks of capitalism crushing the world we love around them.” Ali replied, taking a sip of tea and placing it down on the table. "Bit of a headache too”.

Adam nodded and looked to Daniel.

“Yeah, pretty much still without boyfriend and depressed about life in general” he answered.

“We should probably head down Canal Street sometime. You know, to rectify our boyfriendlessness” Adam suggested.

Daniel looked up from his tea. “Totally. Do you have much luck pulling in the bars down there?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Excellent” Adam said smiling.

“So…we never heard the latest on the disappearing flatmate yesterday” Ali said, changing the subject.

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Oh, it’s all getting a bit crazy. So, you know Simon, Paul’s friend?...” he asked.

“That one you ruthlessly slept with?” Ali asked.

“Yeah, and which we agreed never to mention in front of anyone else.”

Ali nodded. “Yes, ok, that one”.

“Well, he seems to be leading our amateur investigation. It appears that Paul’s previous boyfriend Steve has gone missing and hasn’t been seen since Paul split up with him. So now Simon is going kind of crazy and speculating that Paul might have…” He paused. This sounded too stupid to even repeat.

“What, done him in?” Ali asked, smirking.

“Well, yeah.”

“That weedy sprout killing someone?”

“Exactly, it’s ridiculous. Now his latest theory is that Paul had some kind of accomplice in all of this.”

An odd look passed between Ali and Daniel.

“What?” Adam asked.

“It’s probably nothing” Daniel said, “definitely nothing to do with that first theory. I just remembered something the other day”.

“Yeah?”

“It’s probably nothing at all. It’s stupid. Probably. It’s just, a while back in town I remember passing by a coffee shop, and seeing Paul in the window having coffee with someone. This is maybe four or five months ago...”

Adam looked confused.

“How did you recognise Paul?”

Ali laughed. “Don’t even go there”.

Adam looked at Daniel, then back to Ali, blinked and shook his head. “Ok”.

“Yeah, so then at the Loom Inn at your birthday, when I met James, it took me a while to figure out where I recognised him from, but later on it came to me. I’m sure James was the coffee shop guy.”

Adam looked even more confused. “That makes no sense at all. They didn’t know each other. They still don’t really. They could only have met maybe once at the flat, in passing.”

“Yeah, I thought it seemed strange when I made the connection. I’m sure that’s who it was though. I have a great memory for faces. It’s a teacher thing”.

Adam was quiet. From beneath the dull headache his mind was racing.

 

Monday (Thomas)

Thomas sat at his desk with a glass of whisky. He glanced at the clock which read 10.30. He should head to bed soon. He clicked through his mobile again to the answerphone and placed it down on the desktop. It was already set to loudspeaker.

You have. No. New messages. And. Three. Saved messages.

First. Saved. Message. Received. On. Tuesday. 30^th of March. At 9.45. A.M.

Then her voice cut in for the first time.

Thom, look, I want to talk about this. Maybe I did get it wrong back then, but I don’t think I was the only one at fault here. But… look… I want to sort things out. We’re a team. Let’s work this out.

The message stopped. Thomas leaned forward, placing his face in the palm of his hand, his elbow resting on the desk for support.

Second. Saved. Message. Received. On. Friday. 2^nd of April. At 7.12. P.M.

Thom, if you remember, it was you that got back in touch with me. You know I’d moved on, I was happy with where I was. It wasn’t me that asked you to start raking up old graves. I’m not going to get in touch again, so call me if you want to talk this through and move on.

Silence again. He lifted his head and looked up at a print on the wall; Nighthawks, by Hopper. A stranger sitting at a warm street-side café on a quiet night in the city. The man nurses a drink and looks like he has all the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet, despite all that, his only focus is listening in to the conversation of a troubled looking couple a few metres round the bar. Wondering if they feel as alone as he does.

Thomas idly rubbed the unshaven stubble around his mouth.

Third. Saved. Message. Received. Today. At 8.02. P.M.

His shut his eyes and his body tensed.

Well fuck you then.

There are no more messages. To hear your messages again…

Without even looking his finger found the button to end the call.

He looked down at the phone, a tear gently slipping from his eye.

 

Tuesday (James)

Those first moments of new, pure daylight bursting out from behind the city’s skyline were truly the one and only gift to the insomniac.

James sat at the dining table, an opened diary page in front of him, staring out at the dawn show. It would be a couple of hours before Adam was up, so the perfect time to think, and to write.

He breathed in deeply, picked up the pen and put it to paper.

I hate what i’ve done to him. He doesn’t deserve everything that happened, and he doesn’t deserve my lies. But what can I do? If I tell him about Paul, then I’ll have to tell him about everything and that’ll be it. Friendship over.

He sat back and remembered that day in the coffee shop and that chill that ran through him as Paul revealed what he really was. The kind of guy that would plot against his own flatmate within a month of moving in.

Paul had known exactly which buttons to press though. He knew so much about James’ past, or at least seemed to. And once Paul had started, everything from that college party had come flooding back.

 

The anger that had been building all evening as Brad wouldn’t let up flirting with his girlfriend. He knew himself that he was struggling to handle all that beer and vodka inside him.

“You guys want a lift back in my car?” Brad had asked. He took every opportunity to remind James and the others that he had a car before anyone else.

“Sure, right, and I guess you’ll want to drop me off first before escorting Carly back?” James had replied.

Brad had given a teasing half smile. “Well, your place is closer so I guess that makes sense.”

Carly was ignoring them, obviously. She was the only one of them with any sense. She had leant into the back from one of the side doors, and was placing her guitar across the seat.

“I’ll sit in the back so you studs can bicker in the front” she said, emerging from the car.

James had been so mad. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to let him drive you home, just the two of you together, do you?”

Carly shook her head. “Stop being an asshole James, just get in”.

He looked across and Brad had been grinning like a school boy.

And after that exchange, the rest of the events unfolded. The moments that changed his life. The rest of that evening was all such a blur.

What was the point of trying to remember it anyway?

He returned to the diary.

I didn’t do it. That’s what matters. Paul asked me, even tried to blackmail me. Maybe I thought about it, maybe I came close, but I never did it. That means I’m not complicit, so how would it help telling all that to Adam now?

No. Nothing’s changed. Just like I was told before, I need to leave it in the past. Forget it. Move on with my life. They were right, that’s the only way.

 

Wednesday (Thomas)

Thomas was in the kitchen setting the microwave minutes on a drab looking cottage pie when the buzzer rang. There hadn’t been an uninvited visitor to the flat in more than a year, so he ignored it at first assuming somebody had typed the wrong flat number into the keypad. When it buzzed a second time, he went through and picked up, seeing Cameron’s face looking into the camera on the intercom.

“Good evening, come on up” he said, somewhat surprised, and buzzed to release the outer door. He walked quickly back to the kitchen to turn off the microwave and hide the packaging, before returning to open the front door, holding on there for the minute or so that it took Cameron to get up the stairs.

Cameron appeared along the corridor and raised his eyebrows in greeting.

“Now what brings you all this way?” Thomas asked, opening the door wide to let him through.

Cameron smiled and revealed a bottle of Jameson. “I thought maybe you might fancy some company”.

Thomas’ eyebrows scrunched up like gathering rain clouds. “I don’t want to talk about Jenny”.

Cameron held his hands up. “Fine by me. I‘m here for you mate.”

He’d always had such an honest face, so Thomas relented. They went through to the kitchen-lounge and he grabbed a couple of whiskey glasses.

“Sorry.”

Cameron poured them each a healthy measure, and they sat down at the table and took a healthy slug.

“I’ve never been worried about you before” Cameron said. “Not even that weird blue period at Uni. But now…”

Thomas closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Life’s just a bit…complicated at the moment.”

“That’s what I mean though.” Cameron paused long enough for him to open his eyes. “Life’s as complicated as you let it be. When it gets too crazy, you’ve to give yourself a break. Stop being hard on yourself. And on the people who love you”

“Dammit Cam, I told you not to raise it.”

“This isn’t about Jenny. It’s about you.”

“Bullshit. Look, she screwed up, and she’s too proud to even say sorry for it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Cameron was quiet.

“What, really?” Thomas asked, more aggressively.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“No, no, come on, now we’re on it, let’s not sit on the fence here, tell me what you think?”

Cameron took a deep breath. “Look, I know what he meant to you, but when I look back, I remember it the same way she does. The boy never knew if he was coming or going”.

“Nonsense.”

“Sometimes it were both in one evening.”

Thomas stood up decisively. “Well thanks for this interlude, but I can assure you I don’t need you saving me Cameron”.

“Well maybe someone needs to” Cameron replied, standing up too. “I mean, how many years of your life are you planning to spend moping around, drowning your sorrows and fucking away your life with strangers in saunas. You should be doing so much better for yourself.”

Thomas laughed. “Right. Says the barman.”

Cameron smiled like he’d taken a left hook in the face.

“What’s my brother’s name?” Cameron asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Just tell me, what’s my brother’s name?”

“Robert”

“And my mum’s name?”

“Kathleen”

“And what fags does my dad smoke?”

Thomas waved his hand, trying to think of the name. “I don’t know, those godawful cheap menthol things.”

“And if all the people you’ve had over in this flat in the last year asked you those same questions, how many do you reckon you could you answer?”

Thomas gave him a long look.

“I’m not really up for games” he said finally.

Cameron nodded and looked thoughtful for a second.

“Look. I know I’m nothing much, that’s ok with me. I’ve got that pub, and I’ve got good people around me, and I’m happy. For fuck’s sake, whatever happy is for you, work it out and let us help you get there”.

“I’ll be happy when I’m alone.” Thomas said stubbornly.

Cameron nodded gently, fished in his pocket for a scrap of paper, handing it to Thomas and walked to the door.

“Call me if you need me, yeah? Any time.”

Once Thomas heard the front door close he unfolded the scrap of paper and read the three numbered points.

1. Robert

2. Everyone else just calls her Kath

3. The menthol things you hate.

He put it down on the kitchen table, took a seat and stared out of the balcony window. He couldn’t help a small smile creeping onto the edge of his face.

 

Thursday (Ali)

Ali was strolling back through town after another dreary day in the office. The fluorescent lies of election posters were pasted up in windows everywhere she looked. It was only about a month away.

Walking through Market Street she could see a crowd up ahead and TV cameras focusing in on something. The local news often filmed there. As she got closer she saw the leader of the council giving an interview. She stopped and listened for a few minutes.

“But Mr Clark, how do you respond to the liberal democrat councillors who say that unemployment is rising and you don’t know how to fix it?”

He smiled confidently to the camera.

“Well, you see, the liberal democrats lack the experience in office for this situation. Of course we have a lot of plans in development to create jobs, not least the airport extension, which alone is expected to create hundreds of new jobs in the city over the next three years…”

“At what price though?” Ali said. This had felt like an internal thought.

Judging by the reaction of people around her though, perhaps it had come out a little louder than anticipated. Actually, quite a large part of the crowd had turned to see who had spoken.

The leader of the Council glanced across and then back to the camera, hoping this intercession would be ignored, but the camera turned, and under its gaze, Ali felt compelled to say something more.

“How about our environmental future?” she asked.

The councillor looked irritated as the camera returned to him, and he tried to wave away the comment so he could continue with the interview as planned.

 

Ali thought of that night, so many years ago, back in their ramshackle home on the outskirts of Chelmsford. She was 12 years old and had been sitting telling her mum about a project she was working on all about climate change and greenhouse gas emissions. As ever, mum had been busy making dinner and doing ten other things at once, uttering occasional ‘oh’s and ‘great’s to feign listening.

Ali heard movement at the door, and knew her dad was coming in. He worked long hours, fixing roads and was always tired when he got in. Still, she raced through to the door to greet him. She was one of six siblings so never got a lot of attention, but that evening he sat with her and listened to every word about her new project.

“Sounds like my little girl’s gonna save the world” he’d said proudly. She could still hear his voice now. One of the rare times growing up she ever remembered feeling like she had made him proud.

It was three days after that night that he stepped out from behind a road work barrier and was hit by a silver Mercedes speeding through the works, and life was never the same again.

 

Ali saw the look of disdain on the councillor’s face and felt a rush of bitterness over the airport affair. She shouted up again, intentionally this time.

“What are your plans for cutting carbon?” The camera was quickly upon her again. “What happened to your plan for Manchester to be the greenest city in England?” she said.

The reporter turned back, and the camera followed.

“Do you want to respond to that Mr Clark?”

He definitely didn’t.

“Look, with respect, I’m not sure who this young lady is, but I don’t think this is the point of the interview.”

“Course you don’t” Ali replied and the camera was back on her.

“Cos finally someone is speaking up about that troublesome green agenda that you usually push to one side to be dealt with in the next election cycle. Like everyone else has for the last 20 years. Because it’s going to be 100 years before parts of this country go underwater isn’t it. So who cares, right? And anyway, it’s central government’s problem isn’t it? I mean what can you do to stop global warming? And how much difference will one little airport extension make anyway? And science will probably sort out the problem anyway, won’t it?”

“Look, this is a large and complex challenge we face…” he began.

“Well science hasn’t, and isn’t and won’t solve it Mr Clark. Not alone. Everybody has to act on this, at every level, and a city the size and importance of ours needs a proper plan to reduce environmental impact. It’s about time people realised what a bloody shambles you’re making of it”.

The cameras turned back to him, and he gave the typical politician fluff about plans being worked up and the priority given to this, and blah blah. But she had struck a blow.

Back at the flat they watched the local news at 10.30 that evening, and Daniel grinned through the three minutes of footage. When it was done he went across and hugged her.

“My girl”.

 

Saturday (Ali)

Ali knocked on the bathroom door and shouted bye to Daniel who had been locked in there for half an hour making himself look pretty, ready for the night out with Adam.

She headed quickly through town, and saw a familiar figure heading her way, pacing the streets with his head down. He would’ve walked straight past if she hadn’t touched him on the arm, making him swing round in surprise.

“Ali. Hi, sorry. World of my own. How are you doing?” Thomas said.

“Ah, you know, just about recovered from the party last weekend.”

He laughed. “I enjoyed your cameo on the news the other night.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what came over me”.

“It needed saying”

“It did. I think you’d have made a better job of it than me, but…”

“Not at all. It was perfect.”

She smiled gratefully.

“Listen, I’m glad I ran into you, I wanted to ask a favour. I’m arranging a talk at the uni next week on climate change. It’s probably only a crowd of like ten people in Greenpeace t-shirts, but it’d be cool if you could come along. Maybe say a few words?”

He looked unsure. “I’m not sure I’d be the best person.”

“Please” she urged. “I’m in a bit of a bind – I promised to sort this and I don’t know who else to ask, I’ve totally bitten off more than I can chew on this, I’ve already had a couple of people back out, and I know it’s something you actually care about.”

His face broke into a smile. “Ok, ok, I can do it. Send me the details over.”

She agreed to, and they parted.

That was a very good job done. Cameron would be pleased.

 

Saturday (Adam)

Adam and Daniel both turned up exactly 10 minutes late to the bar where they had arranged to meet, and so were able to walk in together. They had a couple of drinks around the village and ended up, slightly tipsy, in Popscotch, a bar-cum-nightclub that was terrible and brilliant, in a way that only gay nightspots seemed able to achieve.

The place was dark and cavernous, decorated badly with various gaudy gold and silver walls separated by bare red brick. It was also young and lively, played non-stop danceable pop, and was packed with single men.

They got drinks and walked over to the viewing balcony above the dancefloor, scanning the room.

Daniel made a noise like he’d just dropped something over the balcony and Adam turned quickly.

“What?”

“Nothing. No, its fine. It’s just, do you remember I told you about that guy Nate?”

“Yeah, the dickhead friend of Carl’s?”

Daniel indicated with his eyes. “Yeah. He’s right over there”.

Adam looked over.

“In the black top?”

“Yep that’s him.”

“Wow, he’s ripped.”

Daniel gave him a look. “Don’t even go there.”

Adam laughed. “Well, hey, it could be worse. It could’ve been that student with a crush on you”.

Daniel shook his head, still looking out across the room. “Now that would not be…”

Adam looked across again as Daniel’s words trailed off, and saw his face had dropped.

“What now?”

“This can’t be happening”

“What, not the student?”

Daniel subtly pointed across at a young guy throwing some big moves on the dancefloor, a tight vest top showing off some well worked arms.

“Wow, what are the chances the two males you most want to avoid in the world would both be here in the same room on the same night as you?”

“Oh god. Welcome to my personal hell.”

Adam laughed. “We can go?”

Daniel shook his head. “No. No. We paid £10 each for the pleasure of this place. I am not leaving because of any boy”.

 

They worked their way downstairs, and Daniel found a place to lean and wait, as Adam went to get drinks. As he placed the order, he looked across to see Nate approaching Daniel, and saw them exchanging a few words before Nate backed off again.

Adam was totally ready to find himself a boyfriend that night, but he somehow seemed to repel anyone who came remotely close to being what he wanted. As Daniel went to get the next drinks, he was approached by a cute guy with scruffy brown hair, but somehow spent ten minutes chatting with him and had got stuck talking about their first pets. It took Daniel coming in to rescue him to escape the horror of awkward flirting.

Another beer later and Adam was back at the bar. As he was placing his order at the bar, Adam felt a hand on his bum and turned to see Ryan, the one night stand from a few months back. Ryan had been another terrible date, but admittedly awesome in bed.

He wasn’t sure how exactly, but Ryan managed to quickly convince him to come dance. He deposited a beer back with Daniel, then was dragged away to the floor.

“Just a couple of songs I promise” he said in Daniel’s ear.

Several songs later he was totally in his dancing shoes, and across the bar he saw Daniel talking with the student from his school. Adam could see them laughing together, and then the guy’s hand was on the back of Daniel’s head. He knew he should go and intervene and stop Daniel making a terrible mistake, but Ryan’s groin was pressed closely against his, and then suddenly a pair of lips were on his lips.

It turned out to be the last he saw of Daniel that evening.