The Leaping Part 5

'Any decent person is naturally Kenny's enemy anyway,' Erin says. 'It wasn't him outside, though?'

'No,' Jack says. 'No. It wasn't him. Just be careful if you leave the house.'

There is an Adbusters Adbusters calendar on the wall beside the doorway in which Jack stands. The photograph for this month October is of a blank billboard. The walls of the room are painted white. The floorboards are bare. calendar on the wall beside the doorway in which Jack stands. The photograph for this month October is of a blank billboard. The walls of the room are painted white. The floorboards are bare.

'Mum rang just now,' I say. 'Dad's got the date for his operation.'

'That's good then,' Erin says. 'It'll all be over before you know it.'

'I guess,' I say. 'Yeah. I hope so.'

I have a bottle of red wine in the kitchen, so I take it upstairs with me along with a gla.s.s and one of our many corkscrews. Once in my bedroom I push all the books and magazines off my bed and sit on the edge. I uncork the wine and throw the cork at the far wall. I pour some wine into the gla.s.s and look across at the bookcase that's full of books by Stephen King and Robert Rankin and Dean Koontz and Anne Rice. The Anne Rice books are Erin's, really. Also, there is the big yellow brick of Erin's, really. Also, there is the big yellow brick of The Shock Doctrine The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. Standing out like a lit window at night. I drink some of the wine and inhale some of it in a cough. by Naomi Klein. Standing out like a lit window at night. I drink some of the wine and inhale some of it in a cough.

My room is square with a desk. And a computer, and a CD player, and a chair and a bed and a TV. And a window and a bookcase and lots of posters and the floor is covered with CDs and DVDs. There is not much wall visible in my room. It is mostly covered in posters. I choose a CD to put on As the Roots Undo As the Roots Undo by Circle Takes the Square and press play. I turn the volume up and let the noise wash over me. Fast-moving bricks. Certain words snag in my consciousness but mostly it's just beautiful noise. I sit back down again and drink some more wine. I fill the gla.s.s up again. I down it. I fill the gla.s.s up again. I turn the TV on and choose a DVD to watch. I find the complete boxed set of by Circle Takes the Square and press play. I turn the volume up and let the noise wash over me. Fast-moving bricks. Certain words snag in my consciousness but mostly it's just beautiful noise. I sit back down again and drink some more wine. I fill the gla.s.s up again. I down it. I fill the gla.s.s up again. I turn the TV on and choose a DVD to watch. I find the complete boxed set of The Outer Limits The Outer Limits and pick a disc at random. and pick a disc at random.

I'm about five minutes into an episode. I haven't seen it before. For some reason I can't tell what's going on. Then I realise that I've still got the music playing, so I turn the TV up louder so I can hear it. It's all too loud, though, so I turn the music off and then turn the TV volume back down again. I watch the bar on the screen shrinking as the sound gets quieter. I put the bottle of wine down. As I do so I see my notebook. I pick it up and let it fall open at any page. On the page that it falls open at, I've written a list ent.i.tled Fears.

Car accidents Earthquakes Tidal waves Being stuck in love Not getting in love Making someone pregnant The list goes on and on. For pages. I skip to the end.

Sharks I don't even remember thinking sharks are that scary. I reach inside my boxer shorts and start checking my t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es for lumps. I flip to the beginning of the book and look in the inside cover. There it is.

To Francis, on your eighteenth birthday Many Happy Returns! (For recording what you see!) Love Dad.

He gave me this book years ago. And I've only filled half of it. His handwriting is the same as mine. I guess maybe I could go watching for UFOs with him after all. Take this book. Show him that I use it. I mean, I still don't believe in UFOs, but just to spend some time with him. Except he's not going to die, so I shouldn't go acting all weird. That would almost be as if I'm wanting him to die. Acting like he's dying. No. I won't do that.

Blue static fills the TV screen. I'm on my side. The gla.s.s and the bottle are both empty too.

JACK.

Erin and I remained in the living-room after Francis had gone upstairs.

'He was just sitting here when I got back from the shop,' she said. 'Completely still.'

'Poor Francis,' I said. 'It's not what he needs.'

'No,' Erin said. 'Not what anybody needs.'

'No, but you know what I mean. Francis is a bit low at the best of times.'

'He's just one of those types,' she agreed. 'Melancholic. Will you get in here, out of the doorway? You're making me nervous.'

'Sorry,' I said, shrugging off my coat and sitting down on the other sofa. 'Where are Taylor and Graham?'

'Taylor was on an early this morning. Left ages ago. Be back soon, actually. Graham's still in bed.'

'Taylor's on an early? G.o.d. I don't know how he does it.'

'He doesn't really get hangovers. It's magic.' She brushed some hair away from her face. 'Is that Graham I hear emerging?' She cupped her ear.

Graham's room was next door to the living-room, with a window that looked out of the back of the house. Sure enough, we heard the sound of his bedroom door opening accompanied by the blunt chords of some c.r.a.p band's music. He shambled through to join us, wearing a blue T-s.h.i.+rt that bore the words 'I Facebooked your mum'.

'I like your T-s.h.i.+rt,' said Erin.

'Thank you,' he said. 'I spend f.u.c.king hours on Facebook. Thought I'd own up to it at last.'

Graham did indeed spend hours on Facebook, and Mys.p.a.ce, and Second Life, and all those social networking sites. He revealed a creative side online that wasn't that apparent anywhere else. He set up loads of email accounts, then used them to set up loads of different user profiles on the web, and each of these profiles was for a made-up person, more or less, except he gave them all his name he didn't pretend to be other people in the conventional sense or, at least, not that I knew of. He built versions of himself, almost, and then used them to oversee a vast, labyrinthine network of 'friends' and acquaintances, with whom he communicated more than he did us.

I didn't like those websites they were all a bit pointless as far as I could see, and somehow symptomatic of something.

'How's it going with Taylor, then, Erin?' I asked.

'Good, thank you,' she said, grinning. 'It's wonderful.'

That evening I stood by my clapped-out old hatchback in the cul-de-sac outside our house and tried to decide whether or not to drive to Jennifer's. Tempting as the car was, I tried not to use it inside Manchester any more than was necessary. Besides, it was not far to the bus stop and once I was on the bus I'd probably be safe from any strange, grey, hunchbacked figures. whether or not to drive to Jennifer's. Tempting as the car was, I tried not to use it inside Manchester any more than was necessary. Besides, it was not far to the bus stop and once I was on the bus I'd probably be safe from any strange, grey, hunchbacked figures.

About half-way between our house and the end of the short street I stopped because I saw, at my feet, a pool of congealing blood, peppered with dark slimy clots that seemed to swim in it, like bloated insects. Immediately the image of Kenny in the alley came back to me, and so did the panic that propelled me as that sorry, broken man chased me to this very street earlier today, moaning and staggering. I bent down and saw that one of the lumps was actually a solid knot of hair, casting individual strands out to wind through the grim mess, getting entangled with each other and the sinister coagulations that protruded above the liquid surface. They looked like more than just drying blood, and I quickly stood back up in order to prevent reawakening the nausea I had overcome already that morning.

I turned and hurried back to the car.

From Jennifer's address a Didsbury address I'd guessed that she lived in a nice part of town, but that didn't prepare me for just how wide and clean and leafy her street was, or how big and s.h.i.+ny the cars were. I didn't feel like I should be there in my little old hatchback; it was more of a crustacean than a vehicle by comparison.

I parked in her driveway and looked up at her house. It was beautiful: detached, all old red brickwork with white window-frames and a well-maintained ivy plant that covered one wall. It was a proper house. I couldn't help comparing it with ours, which we'd just kind of settled in since university. None of us had ever got around to moving out. Time flies when you're working full time. Overhead, the sky was darkening. I reached over and picked up the carrier bag from the pa.s.senger seat I'd stopped off at an off-licence on the way for some decent wine and crisps and opened the door, climbed out of the car, and locked it. When I turned around I saw Jennifer standing in the doorway, wearing a black vest and soft-looking white trousers. She too was holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and in the other she held a DVD, and she was smiling. I smiled back. It was beautiful: detached, all old red brickwork with white window-frames and a well-maintained ivy plant that covered one wall. It was a proper house. I couldn't help comparing it with ours, which we'd just kind of settled in since university. None of us had ever got around to moving out. Time flies when you're working full time. Overhead, the sky was darkening. I reached over and picked up the carrier bag from the pa.s.senger seat I'd stopped off at an off-licence on the way for some decent wine and crisps and opened the door, climbed out of the car, and locked it. When I turned around I saw Jennifer standing in the doorway, wearing a black vest and soft-looking white trousers. She too was holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and in the other she held a DVD, and she was smiling. I smiled back.

The next day it was raining and my s.h.i.+ft started at ten so I got ready to set off at about half nine to allow for traffic. As I was putting on my waterproof coat Jennifer came downstairs in a dark-green dressing-gown.

'Have a good day, Jennifer,' I said.

She yawned and stretched. 'Oh, I will,' she said. 'Here, Jack. You want to see a film tonight? They're showing Easy Rider Easy Rider as a one-off at the Cornerhouse. Some anniversary or something. Seven o'clock.' as a one-off at the Cornerhouse. Some anniversary or something. Seven o'clock.'

'I've never seen Easy Rider Easy Rider,' I said.

'You go now,' she said, 'before I recover from the shock of hearing that and start to re-evaluate our relations.h.i.+p.'

'Is it good, then?' I asked.

'It's amazing,' she said. 'I've never seen it on the big screen though. Could be quite special.'

'Then yes,' I said. 'Though I would have come even if I had seen it and they were just showing it on a TV in the corner.'

'Seven o'clock,' she said, and put her arms around my neck and kissed me on the lips.

I sat in the car in some queue and listened to an old mix tape I'd made when I was about fourteen and the tape sounded stretched and warped and I thought that I should play it to Jennifer before it snaps, say here, this is the kind of music I used to like, can you believe it.

As I was logging into my phone and terminal in the huge, dirty room I heard somebody approach me from behind. I could tell from the flat footsteps and wet-mouth noises and sudden cloud of bad breath that it was Kenny.

'Jack,' he said. The room was full of people, but none of them were looking at Kenny or me.

'What?' I said. My voice felt slightly out of my control. 'Kenny, I'm logging in.'

'You're late,' he said. 'Jack. Jack Sprat could eat no fat. Jack. You're late. Supposed to be in at nine.' He picked his teeth with a filthy fingernail.

'No,' I said. 'Wait. I start at ten.'

'Check your s.h.i.+fts.'

'I've got them here.' It seemed to take me an age to find the print-out amongst the papers on my desk, and then I had to scrabble to pick it up, my hands felt like they weren't part of me. Eventually I got hold of it and showed it to him. then I had to scrabble to pick it up, my hands felt like they weren't part of me. Eventually I got hold of it and showed it to him.

'This is wrong,' he said, handing it back after a quick scan. 'Jack Sprat could eat no fat, and his wife could eat no lean.'

'What are you going on about?' I said.

'Your s.h.i.+ft has been changed. If you'd checked it at the end of your last s.h.i.+ft, you know, like the bosses say you should. Instead of printing them out in advance.'

I turned back to my screen and checked the system and he was right I was supposed to have started at nine.

'See,' he said, leaning in over my shoulder and breathing all over my face. 'Nine.'

'Yeah, OK,' I said. 'Well, I'll be finis.h.i.+ng at six, so it's still eight hours, so that's OK, isn't it?'

'I'm sorry, Jack,' he said, and smiled faintly. 'If there was anything I could do to get you off the hook then I would, honest. But there's rules about this kind of thing, and I'm just Kenny, I'm just a n.o.body round these parts.' He sighed deeply. The weirdly strong smell of his breath clung to my nose and mouth like cobwebs.

'What are the rules, then?' I asked. Outside the rain was getting heavier, and I could see it pounding into the windows.

'You have to stay an extra hour, Jack,' he said. 'I'm sorry.'

'I've already said that I will,' I said.

'No, I mean an extra extra hour. You know. Until seven.' hour. You know. Until seven.'

'That's not true,' I said. 'Where does it say that?'

'It's in the contract,' he said. 'It's in the conduct book. If it wasn't, then I wouldn't have to be such an old stick in the mud, but it is, and I do.' His attempt at a smile disappeared and his flat eyes swivelled around.

'I can't,' I said. 'I have to be somewhere else at seven.'

'Well then, Jack,' he said. 'We'll just have to go and see Artemis, won't we? Just don't say I never do anything for you.'

'What?' I said.

'Come on then, Jack,' he said again. 'Little old me can't bend the rules but Artemis maybe can. Come on.'

'OK,' I said, and stood up. I'd never seen Artemis' office before. He was already drifting away and I headed after him.

We were walking along one of the seemingly endless halls when he stopped by a door, opened it and walked through. I walked in after him and the door slammed shut. The room was a small training room, full of rows of ancient dead computers, with a dusty data projector hanging haphazardly from the ceiling.

'Jack Sprat could eat no fat,' Kenny said. 'And his wife could eat no lean. And so between the two of them, they licked the platter clean.'

'This isn't Artemis' office,' I said. 'Why do you keep reciting that nursery rhyme?'

'You make me think of it,' Kenny said. 'And no, this isn't Artemis' office. You're very bright.'

'What is this about?'

'You know what it's about, Sprat,' he said, and took a step towards me. The walls in here were white but covered in smudges and knocks. The sound of the call-centre floor was muted beyond the door, and there was an old, ghostly smell of sweat in the air. 'I saw you that night and you saw me, didn't you?' step towards me. The walls in here were white but covered in smudges and knocks. The sound of the call-centre floor was muted beyond the door, and there was an old, ghostly smell of sweat in the air. 'I saw you that night and you saw me, didn't you?'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' I said. 'What night? Where?'

'In the alley, Jack. In the alley when I was all not being very well and you were sneaking down to have a good laugh at me. You remember, don't you?'

'I don't remember,' I said.

'Well, I remember,' he said. 'And I'm worried that you're going to be thinking all kinds of c.r.a.p up in that big old head of yours.' He walked around me and leant backwards against one of the desks, his baggy s.h.i.+rt coming untucked from his ill-fitting trousers. His greasy fringe flopped forward as he put his hands over his face.

'I hate it here, Jack,' he said. 'It does my f.u.c.king head in. I f.u.c.king hate it. Sometimes I'm all just ready to burst, like a balloon or something. I'm not very well see, I've got, like, a disease, and that's what you saw down that alley, OK? I was just not being very well. That's all it was, just like a little bit of sick.'

'OK,' I said.

'Sometimes I just don't know what I'm going to do,' he said, and his eyes were flat and his long lips were wet. 'I need a nice little girlfriend, that's what I need. Just to sort me out like. Make me a bit more normal. Take the edge off these places.'

'Which places?' I said.

'These f.u.c.king places,' he said, and lifted his arms up as if to gesture at all four walls at once, and by extension the whole building I suppose. 'Feels like I've worked f.u.c.king lifetimes in these s.h.i.+tholes and it's so hard to keep myself, like, all under control, Jack. I come in every day, little old me, just Kenny, for years and years and years trying to pretend I'm OK when I'm not, Jack, I'm not.'

'I know what you mean,' I said. 'You think you're better than a place.'

He looked directly at me and his mouth seemed to change shape somehow into an angry, uncomprehending hole. He shook his head. 'n.o.body's any better than this place,' he said. 'Especially not little old Kenny. And anyway, if everyone was all too f.u.c.king good, who'd answer the phones? No, Sprat. You don't know the start of what I mean. I keep telling you. I'm not well.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' I said, trying to keep my voice steady in the glare of his sad, furious, twisted face. 'What have you got? I mean, what's the disease? I mean, no sorry I didn't mean it to come out like that. I mean, what's wrong?'

There was a silence.

'I used to be a bit like you,' he said, and put his head in his hands again. 'I try so hard, I do, Jack. Where's Jenny at these days anyways?'

'Jennifer?' I said, uncertainly. 'She's left.'

'What?' he said, and his head snapped back up again. 'She's all gone away?'

'Yes,' I said.

'Oh now that's just the icing on the coffin, that is, Sprat. Oh no. Now I am sad.' He shook his head, his fringe flopping like a dead thing. 'I liked her so very much, I did. She's such a pretty girl is that Jenny. Kenny and Jenny, eh? Imagine that. Well I might just have to try and find her. Like I say, a nice little girlfriend might sort me out. There's something about girls, Sprat, something about girls that makes the illness seem not so bad. In all my life of being ill girls have been the tonic, Sprat. Something about the smell of them or the taste of them. Honest to G.o.d I can't explain it. Young Jenny might be just the thing to sort me out good and proper.'

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Jennifer and I are together now. I'm sorry. I thought you knew.'

He didn't say anything to that at first he didn't even move, he just froze, back to his mannequin self, not even breathing. Eventually he spoke.

'I heard her ask you out that time,' he said with a small, tense voice. 'But I thought that was just to put me off.'