We Are All Made Of Glue Part 14

It wasn't until he'd put the phone down that I realised the disjuncture in what the two of them had been saying. Mark Diabello had been talking about selling the house at its market value, whatever that was. But Nick Wolfe had wanted to buy it.

"What are you doing on New Year's Eve, Mum?"

Ben came and sat down on the arm of my chair, interrupting my thoughts.

"I don't know-I hadn't thought about it. It's tonight, isn't it?"

If Christmas is a time when families get together, New Year's Eve is a time for celebrating friends.h.i.+p-and most of my friends were up in Leeds.

"I haven't made any plans, Ben. We could cook something special, crack a bottle of wine, watch the celebrations on TV. What would you like to do?"

He shuffled about on the arm of the chair.

"I was wondering about going out with some mates from school..."

"Yes, do that. I'll..." My heart leapt. I thought fast. "...I'll go and see Mrs Shapiro."

"...but I'll stop in if you want. If you're going to be on your own."

"No, no. Go for it. That's great."

I didn't want him to guess that my heart was crowing. He had friends-he was part of a crowd-my poor broken-in-half boy-he'd spend New Year's Eve getting drunk and throwing up in the gutter, not sitting at home in front of the TV with his mum.

"Mrs Shapiro and me-we'll down a bottle of sherry and sing raucous songs. It'll be a ball."

Actually, I was thinking, I'd be happy to have a break from Mrs Shapiro and her smelly entourage, and spend the evening in on my own.

Then at about six o'clock the phone rang. My heart sank. I was sure it would be Mrs Shapiro. But it was Penny from Adhesives Adhesives.

"Hiya, Georgie-have you got any plans for tonight?" she boomed. "I'm having a bit of a bash round at my place. Some of the work gang'll be there. Just bring a bottle, and your dancing shoes."

She told me the address, just off Seven Sisters Road. I hadn't realised she lived quite close by. I wondered briefly what to wear, then I remembered the green silk dress. I had intended to get it dry-cleaned, but what the h.e.l.l.

21.

The Adhesives party I could hear the music as I turned the corner into the street. Penny greeted me at the door with a hug, helped me out of my coat and took the bottle of Rioja out of my hand. She was pet.i.te and curvaceous, in her mid-forties I would guess, wearing a short black skirt covered with swirls of sequins and a low-cut red top that plunged right down to her bra. Her short curly hair was dramatically bleached and fluffed up on top of her head, making her look like a buxom elf. could hear the music as I turned the corner into the street. Penny greeted me at the door with a hug, helped me out of my coat and took the bottle of Rioja out of my hand. She was pet.i.te and curvaceous, in her mid-forties I would guess, wearing a short black skirt covered with swirls of sequins and a low-cut red top that plunged right down to her bra. Her short curly hair was dramatically bleached and fluffed up on top of her head, making her look like a buxom elf.

"Thanks for inviting me, Penny. It's great to meet you at last."

I kissed her on each round warm cheek and followed her through into a room where the lights were turned off and a PA in the corner was pumping out such a volume that I had to put my hands up to my ears. The room was packed with people all swaying and shuffling and the air was thick with several types of smoke.

"They're all in there." Penny was swaying her hips as she talked. "Nathan's brought his dad."

She gave me a little shove. I lurched forwards. I hadn't really been feeling in a party mood, but suddenly the atmosphere caught me, and shuffling in time to the beat I worked my way through the press of bodies into the room.

"This is Sheila." Penny introduced me to a girl of about Stella's age, wearing a little strip of red satin-the minimum amount of material that you could call a dress-and smooching with a young black guy, about six feet tall, slim and gorgeous. He was holding a wine gla.s.s in one hand and a cigarette in the other. There was a lot of hip-thrusting going on. Penny pushed past them and led me deeper into the room.

"Over there, that tall guy. That's Emery, one of the freelancers on Prefabrication Prefabrication. I told you about his little operation?" she whispered.

"No, er, what...?" I wondered what she'd told them about me.

"Here, meet Paul."

"Paul, this is Georgie. You know, from Adhesives Adhesives."

Paul was slightly built with a shy stoop and a yin-yang tattoo on his forearm.

He nodded in my direction and carried on dancing, mesmerised by the tiny dark girl spinning her torso in front of him. When I turned round again Sheila had disappeared, and the slim gorgeous guy was thrusting towards me. I felt my knees droop and my pelvis liquefy but somehow the rhythm got hold of my feet, and I found my hips doing unfamiliar gyrations. He moved in closer.

"Hi, beauty. I'm Penny's cousin," he shouted above the boom of the music. "Darryl Samson. I'm a doctor."

Having a doctor like that would be enough to keep anybody in bed, I thought. A bit different to seedy Dr Polkinson at the Kippax surgery.

"I'm surprised any of your patients bother to get better."

His laugh was deep and juicy.

"I'm Georgie. I'm a...writer."

"No kiddin!"

I could feel his hips-and not just his hips-pressing up close against me. Then Penny appeared at my side, grabbed me by the hand and pulled me away.

"Come on-you need a drink." She threw Darryl a warning look, and he spread his palms with an apologetic smile.

"Take care with that one. He's my sister's brother-in-law. Don't believe anything he tells you."

"Is he a doctor?"

"Ha!" She threw her head back. "I've had a few complaints. He told Lucy he was a gynaecologist. And she believed him."

When I looked back, he was moving across the floor with the same languid insolence as Wonder Boy, thrusting himself in between Paul and the girl with the spinning torso, and in no time they were grooving together, pelvis to pelvis. I stood in the drinks room clutching my gla.s.s of red wine and feeling mildly annoyed with Penny, when suddenly she dived into the crowd and pulled someone else towards me. "Georgie, here's someone you gotta meet."

I stared. This was incredible. Horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. Deep blue eyes. Dark hair swept back from brainy forehead. Yes, definitely hunkily intelligent-all he needed was a white coat. And maybe a few inches. Okay, he was a bit short-but did that matter? Was I so shallow that I couldn't fancy a man half an inch shorter than me? I was pondering on this when the small intelligent hunk stretched out his hand.

"Hi. I'm Nathan."

"I'm Georgie." I felt myself blush. "Good to meet you at last."

"The Chattahoochee rose."

"What?"

"Georgia. You know, on the Chattahoochee River."

"Oh. Geography's not my strong point," I mumbled. Already I'd revealed myself as an ignoramus. I noticed he was wearing a midnight-blue silk s.h.i.+rt that matched his eyes, and that the dark designer stubble that shadowed his chin and jaw was attractively flecked with silver.

"Awesome dress."

"Thank you. It came from..." There was a small vomit stain on one sleeve, but probably he hadn't noticed.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Georgia." That low, confiding voice, with maybe just a touch of the mid-Atlantic about the vowels. I realised that our only topic of conversation over the years had been glue. Should I mention my thoughts about polymerisation?

"Me, too. I was thinking about what you said..." I remembered his New Year's joke. Glue and a screw. No, that wasn't the right way to begin. "I mean, after all these years. You know, talking about adhesives over the phone. I thought you must be..." No, that wasn't right, either. I blushed.

"Mr Bond?"

"Something like that."

Then an elderly man I hadn't noticed before, thin and wiry, with a bushy white beard and a gla.s.s of red wine in his hand, moved in beside me.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your young lady, Nathan?"

I thought I saw a quick glimmer of annoyance flash through Nathan's eyes, but he just said, "Tati, this is my colleague Georgia. Georgia, meet my father."

"Georgia! Aha! State or republic?"

"Er..." Was this another geography quiz? I hadn't done geography since I was fourteen. At Garforth Comp in those days you had to choose between history and geography. I felt myself turning pink under Nathan's curious gaze.

I was saved by the chimes of Big Ben. The lights came on. Corks popped and everyone held their gla.s.ses out. Nathan grabbed a bottle and topped us both up. I took a great gulp that went straight to my head. Putting his gla.s.s aside, the old man crossed his hands, took my left hand in his right one with a surprisingly firm grasp, and reached the other hand out to Nathan. Then he took a deep breath and started to sing. Should auld acquaintance be forgot Should auld acquaintance be forgot...The room went still...and never brought to mind...His voice reverberated unexpectedly deep and mellow. What happened next was a bit like polymerisation-suddenly the individual people-molecules milling about in the room grabbed hands and formed a long covalent chain. Soon we were all holding crossed hands and swaying, everybody kissing everybody. I even got a quick snog with Darryl. That was nice. Then Sheila pulled him away and the old man pushed in and covered my face with his bristles. He started kissing me vigorously, a whiskery, spicy kiss-vindaloo. I struggled, but his grip was tight. Nathan came to my rescue.

"Happy New Year, Georgia," he murmured, as though it was our special secret. For a moment, he held me in his arms. Our lips met. The room started to spin. But the old man squeezed in between us, coming in for another round, so I pulled myself away, grabbed my coat from the pile in the other room, and was out in the street in a flash.

It was incredibly cold. I started to run. The streets were full of revellers, and the sky was full of stars.

The house, when I got home, was quiet, dark, and warm. I didn't put the lights on. I flung off my coat and shoes, lay down on the bed, and almost immediately fell asleep. I woke up two hours later feeling cold, with a disgusting taste in my mouth. It was a mixture of rough wine and vindaloo. But it set me thinking how long it was since I'd been kissed. Actually, it had done me good. I should get out more often.

I had a wash, cleaned my teeth, put my nightie on, and went back to bed. I tried to call Ben, but his mobile was switched off. I suppose he didn't want his mum ringing to embarra.s.s him. I drifted off to sleep wondering where he was, and thinking of New Year's Eve in Kippax in 1980, when I'd snogged Karl Curry, and wondering where he he was now. was now.

I woke up again just after dawn and wandered across the landing to see whether Ben was back. The curtains were drawn and the light was out. The air had a musty smell of sleep and old socks. But he wasn't in his bed. A red light was flas.h.i.+ng on his computer-it was the screen saver whizzing about-a garish geometric vertigo-inducing pattern of white-and-red swirls. I went to shut it down, and as I touched the mouse, the screen he'd been looking at came up.

I remembered it was the same red-on-black text as before. This time, the single word flas.h.i.+ng in red on black in a circle of dancing flames was Antichrist Antichrist. What was this rubbish he was looking at? Out of curiosity, I hit the 'back' b.u.t.ton, and found myself in some sort of chat forum. There were only two names: Benbo and Spikey.

Spikey: Spikey: hey benbo happy newyear this is the year of antichrists rein watchout hey benbo happy newyear this is the year of antichrists rein watchout Benbo: Benbo: who do you think is the antichrist putin or bush? who do you think is the antichrist putin or bush? Spikey: Spikey: putin is the king of the north who will join forces with the king of the south at the battle of armagedon daniel 11:40 putin is the king of the north who will join forces with the king of the south at the battle of armagedon daniel 11:40 Benbo: Benbo: where is armagedon? where is armagedon? Spikey: Spikey: its in the north of isreal its in the north of isreal Benbo: Benbo: phew quite a long way from highbury who is the king of the south? phew quite a long way from highbury who is the king of the south? Spikey: Spikey: gadafi or sadam ha.s.sain or osama binladin take your pick gadafi or sadam ha.s.sain or osama binladin take your pick Benbo: Benbo: do you think obi is still alive? do you think obi is still alive? Spikey: Spikey: check out check out http:www.dramusic.comendtimeprophesiesobllives.html http:www.dramusic.comendtimeprophesiesobllives.html he has gout in his toes but is ok apart from that he has gout in his toes but is ok apart from that Benbo: Benbo: i think saddam is still alive did you notice something wird about those hanging photos the angle of the head is wrong and the eyes when someone is hanged their eyes bulge out from the pressure but saddams eyes look normal i think saddam is still alive did you notice something wird about those hanging photos the angle of the head is wrong and the eyes when someone is hanged their eyes bulge out from the pressure but saddams eyes look normal i think the head has been copied and pasted from a different photo i think the head has been copied and pasted from a different photo Spikey: Spikey: your right if the pictures are fake mybe the execusion was fake too have you seen your right if the pictures are fake mybe the execusion was fake too have you seen http:www.saddamhusseinlives.com? http:www.saddamhusseinlives.com? Benbo: Benbo: i read somewhere that prince Charles is the anitchrist because of the duchy of Cornwall bar codes i read somewhere that prince Charles is the anitchrist because of the duchy of Cornwall bar codes Spikey: Spikey: 666 is the mark of the beast check this link 666 is the mark of the beast check this link Antichrist Antichrist Benbo I supposed was Ben. How did he know so much about hanging? But who was Spikey? Whoever he was, I didn't think much of his spelling.

I clicked on the link, which took me to the webpage of someone who called himself Isiah. He was a middle-aged man with a crew cut, drooping eyelids and a chunky wooden cross on a chain around his neck. Beneath the picture was a banner heading: WHO IS THE ANTICHRIST? WHO IS THE ANTICHRIST?.

Many Christians used to believe that Communism was the Antichrist, and Armageddon Armageddon would be nuclear war between Russia and America. However, it seems that now the forces of Islam and Christianity are lining up for a definative battle before the third Temple is rebuilt in Jerusalem and Christ comes back to rule the earth in all His power and glory. would be nuclear war between Russia and America. However, it seems that now the forces of Islam and Christianity are lining up for a definative battle before the third Temple is rebuilt in Jerusalem and Christ comes back to rule the earth in all His power and glory. Infact all the signs are that Antichrist, Satan the great Deceiver, is already stalking the earth. "Take heed that no one deceives you. For many will come in My name, saying, 'I am the Christ,' and will deceive many." (Matthew 24: 4-5) Infact all the signs are that Antichrist, Satan the great Deceiver, is already stalking the earth. "Take heed that no one deceives you. For many will come in My name, saying, 'I am the Christ,' and will deceive many." (Matthew 24: 4-5) In the Book of Revelation the In the Book of Revelation the Mark of the Beast Mark of the Beast is revealed as 666. is revealed as 666.

I rubbed my eyes. It was too early in the morning for this sort of stuff. But I was curious about how Ben spent his hours cloistered up here. There was a list of names, each underlined with a link and marked with a little flaming crest.

Osama Bin Laden Osama Bin Laden Saddam Hussein Saddam Hussein Pope Benedict XVI aka Joseph Ratzinger Pope Benedict XVI aka Joseph Ratzinger Vladimir Putin Vladimir Putin Prince Charles of Wales Prince Charles of Wales I opened the last link.

This English aristocrat is a surprise candidate-but look at the evidance. His full official name both in English and Hebrew adds up to This English aristocrat is a surprise candidate-but look at the evidance. His full official name both in English and Hebrew adds up to 666 666 as described in the ancient Hebrew Gematria, and his heraldic symbols are based on the as described in the ancient Hebrew Gematria, and his heraldic symbols are based on the beasts beasts of Daniel and Revelation. Also, he really is a prince, as predicted in Daniel 9. Rome is obviously the new Babylon, and the evil of Daniel and Revelation. Also, he really is a prince, as predicted in Daniel 9. Rome is obviously the new Babylon, and the evil European Union European Union is the new Holy Roman Empire. It's const.i.tution is under discussion, and Prince Charles could one day be it's ruler. Infact the fact that he seems unlikely is the strongest argument in his favor, because as the Bible tells us in Revelation 12: 9 The Devil and Satan deceives the whole world." Check out is the new Holy Roman Empire. It's const.i.tution is under discussion, and Prince Charles could one day be it's ruler. Infact the fact that he seems unlikely is the strongest argument in his favor, because as the Bible tells us in Revelation 12: 9 The Devil and Satan deceives the whole world." Check out www.greaterthings.comNewsPrinceCharlesindex.html. www.greaterthings.comNewsPrinceCharlesindex.html.

Up to this point I'd been reading with a kind of fascinated horror, but the bit about Prince Charles made me laugh out loud. Poor lad, I thought. And the spelling. How could anyone take seriously anything spelled infact, definative, evidance? I must definately (ha ha) pull Ben's leg about this. Out of curiosity, I clicked on the 666 link.

The Mark of the Beast may already be in your home. Take a look at the bar code which is on every product you purchase. You may have bought goods marked with the Beast's sign 666 including products sold from Prince Charles's own sinister Duchy of Cornwall brand. Check out The Mark of the Beast may already be in your home. Take a look at the bar code which is on every product you purchase. You may have bought goods marked with the Beast's sign 666 including products sold from Prince Charles's own sinister Duchy of Cornwall brand. Check out www.av1611.org www.av1611.org 666barcode.html. 666barcode.html.

Smiling to myself, I clicked on Start, Shutdown, then I went downstairs and put the kettle on. When I took my coffee through to the front room, I found Ben there, asleep on the sofa, clutching a large traffic cone to his chest, dead to the world. He stirred and opened his eyes.

"Happy New Year, Mum."

"Happy New Year, Ben. What's with the traffic cone?"

He looked down at his chest, and shook his head in surprise.

"I've no idea, Mum." He grinned sleepily. "Absolutely no idea."

Before I could ask him about the webpages, he'd drifted off to sleep again, his feet sticking over the end of the sofa, the traffic cone cradled in his arms.

The light was flas.h.i.+ng on my answering machine.

"Georgia. It's Nathan. Tati says sorry about last night. He gets a bit carried away when he's had a drink. Hope you got home all right. Happy New Year."

I was going to ring him back, but I would probably end up making a fool of myself. Quit while you're ahead, I thought. Instead, I phoned Penny and left a message on her answering machine.

"Great party. Thanks."

That was it, then: Christmas and New Year, the Festive Season over. I'd survived.

22.

Changing the locks One of the hardest things I found, after Rip left, was sleeping by myself in that great empty bed. In the day I could keep myself busy, but at night the hours seemed to swell and expand, losing their definition. It wasn't just s.e.x I missed, it was having someone warm to cuddle up to, a solid presence beside me on the cruel nightmare ride from dusk to daybreak. Sometimes I would wake to find myself snuggled up to the spare pillow, my arms and legs locked around it.

About three weeks into the New Year I came downstairs very early in the morning to make myself a cup of tea after a restless sleep. I'd woken up before dawn to find my pillow wet with tears. I could remember nothing about my dream except a faceless malevolent shadow dragging towards me. Somewhere in the still-dark streets a siren was wailing, a persistent, unsettling call like a sinister bird of the night. It was cold, the central heating hadn't come on yet. I s.h.i.+vered as I poured the tea, and was about to go back to bed when the phone rang. It was Mrs Shapiro.

"Georgine-please come quick. There is a burglary. Door is brokken."

Feeling mildly irritated, I got dressed, put on my coat and went around straightaway. It had started to snow-not proper snowflakes, but miserable powdery stuff flaking down out of the sky like frozen dandruff. Mrs Shapiro answered the door wearing her pink dressing gown and Lion King Lion King slippers, her hair dishevelled, lipstick smeared on hastily. Violetta was hanging around, miaowing at her feet. She led me through to the kitchen. It was bitterly cold. One of the pretty Victorian blue gla.s.s panels on the back door had been smashed and an icy draught was whistling through. The key on the inside had been stolen. Nothing else seemed to be missing. slippers, her hair dishevelled, lipstick smeared on hastily. Violetta was hanging around, miaowing at her feet. She led me through to the kitchen. It was bitterly cold. One of the pretty Victorian blue gla.s.s panels on the back door had been smashed and an icy draught was whistling through. The key on the inside had been stolen. Nothing else seemed to be missing.

"Maybe it was your Peki. Maybe he is a teef."

"Why would it be him?" I couldn't keep the irritation out of my voice. "He didn't even charge you for coming out last time. He didn't steal anything, did he? You should be grateful, Mrs Shapiro, but all you do is moan."