The One I Love Page 3

  ’cos fear is all you’ll breathe.

  Jack L and the Black Romantics, Wax

  October 2007

  The night was damp and overcast. Jane had thought twice about whether or not she actually wanted to go out. It had been a long and tiring day but she had promised her younger sister, Elle, and Elle did not handle disappointment well. The gig was due to start at nine. It was just after ten. They had missed the supporting act and Jack Lukeman would be already on stage. The venue didn’t have a car park and, because of a lack of inner-city knowledge and a pathological fear of driving the wrong way up one-way streets, Jane parked miles away. As they were so late they were forced to run from the car park to the venue, and just as they turned the first corner the rain came tumbling down. Neither sister had an umbrella. Elle had a hood but as she ran it insisted on falling off her head. She held it tight around her face and continued to run, with Jane doing her best to keep up in heels and praying she wouldn’t break an ankle.

  At the door they fumbled for their tickets, but once they had presented them to a doorman with the build of a silverback gorilla and the manner of a brick, he waved them through. “Move,” he said.

  “Charming,” said Elle, and Jane widened her eyes and tightened her mouth, which signalled to her sister to shut up.

  They passed a dishevelled man who was considerably drier than they were. He was standing behind the box office, between the lifts and the stairs. He handed them each a flyer with a picture of a woman on it. “If you see her there’s a number you can contact me at,” he said.

  Neither of them looked at the flyer because they could hear Jack singing “Don’t Fall In Love”. Elle spotted the lift. “We’re in the gods, let’s get the lift.”

  “I hate the lift.”

  “We’re missing the show.” Elle pouted.

  Jane sighed and Elle pressed the button for the lift just as the silverback charmer looked at his watch and started to close the main doors. A woman in a full-length plastic see-through raincoat that was pulled tight around her face and knotted with a toggle at her chin pushed her ticket against the window and her foot in the door. The man considered whether to let her in or to attempt to amputate her foot for a second or two before he opened it, took her ticket and allowed her to enter.

  Elle smiled as she saw the walking condom approach her. Well, that’s one way of keeping dry. The human condom ignored the flyer man’s attempt to hand her one and stood behind Jane, who was preparing to entomb herself in a small space. Don’t freak out. It’ll be all over in seconds. The silverback bolted the front door. The man packed away his remaining flyers into a briefcase and stood behind Elle waiting for the lift. The red light appeared over the doors and they heard a dinging sound. Elle was first in, followed by the human condom and the flyer man.

  Jane was frozen but only for a second. When she realized that her sister and the two strange strangers were staring at her she made her legs move towards them to avoid embarrassment. The doors closed and Jane breathed in and out slowly and surely. Ten seconds and it’ll be over. Count back to one. Ten … nine …

  Elle could hear Jack singing clearly: “‘Don’t fall in love with the girls around here, you give them your heart they soon disappear.’” She sang along quietly: “‘They come from country towns and live on Crescent Street and all that they share are the secrets they keep.’”

  Jane counted in her head: … five … four …

  Elle became slightly louder as the song reached its conclusion: “La, la, la, la, la, la, la!”

  The human condom and the flyer man stared forward, ignoring the tone-deaf girl who was compromising their enjoyment of the song by obscuring Jack L with her off-key wailing.

  Jane continued to breathe and count: … three … two …

  The lights were the first to go off. The lift ground to a stop with such a jolt that all four passengers automatically braced themselves. Jane stopped counting, Elle stopped wailing and, outside, the music stopped playing. Only Jack L continued to sing. He finished the last line of the song without mike or music. The crowd cheered and roared and Elle found herself staring from her sister, whose legs had gone from under her and who was suddenly sitting on the floor, to the human condom hanging on to the rail and to the flyer man, who seemed to be holding on to his briefcase for dear life. Outside the crowd were still roaring and it was all so strange and she liked it. “What’s going on?” she asked, a grin spreading across her face. “Do you think it’s a fire?”

  Jane’s breathing was becoming shallower and faster so she was in no position to respond. The flyer man told her that if there was a fire the alarm would have rung. The human condom undid her toggle and pulled her see-through raincoat from her head to reveal short black hair streaked with grey and sprinkled with white. “It’s a power cut,” she said, “probably the damn weather. I knew I shouldn’t come out tonight but I just wouldn’t listen to myself.” She took off her coat, rolled it up, put it into her oversized bag and sat on the floor next to Jane, who was trying her best not to hyperventilate.

  “Is she okay?” the flyer man asked Elle, referring to Jane.

  “She’s got a thing about lifts,” Elle said. “Hang in there, Janey.” She went down on her hunkers and brushed her sister’s wet blonde hair from her face. “It won’t be long now.”

  For some reason the human condom found it necessary to correct her. “Actually, it could be hours.”

  Jane grabbed Elle’s hand and squeezed it hard.

  Elle looked at the human condom. “Not cool, Condom. Not cool at all.”

  The human condom and the flyer man stared at her quizzically, both clearly wondering if they had heard correctly. Before they got a chance to say anything they were interrupted by a man using a loudspeaker to address the audience.

  Jane looked around the lift, wide-eyed. “What’s happening out there?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Shush,” the condom said, placing a finger to her lips. “The venue manager is trying to say something on a loudspeaker.”

  Jane imagined Jack on stage, standing back, allowing the manager to fix his hand-held loudspeaker before making a second attempt to talk to the crowd without the loud screeching he’d nearly deafened them with on his first attempt.

  “What now?” Elle asked.

  “Hard to hear over the din of the crowd.” The human condom pushed her ear closer to the door. “Hah, they’re laughing.”

  Jane guessed that Jack was playing with the venue manager. Maybe he was bounding across the stage like a puppy or bouncing up and down behind the man, high and in performance mode, while the manager fumbled with an ancient loudspeaker, or he was making a joke or scaling the wall so that he could hang from a box while the guy made his long-awaited announcement. Whatever he was doing the crowd were laughing hard.

  “What now?” Elle said.

  “Still laughing.”

  The crowd quietened and the condom listened intently as the manager explained that the entire street was experiencing a blackout. He wasn’t aware how long the problem would last and apologized because for some reason the back-up generator wasn’t working as it should.

  “What?” Elle said.

  “As I said, it’s a blackout.”

  “So what now?” Elle asked.

  “Shush,” she said, “and I’ll tell you.”

  She listened as the manager promised the audience he had someone working on it and that if the generator didn’t kick in within the next ten minutes they could have their money back. They booed him, and that was when Jack must have taken the loudspeaker from him. “I’m not ready to leave,” he said, and the crowd roared their approval.

  “Jack’s not ready to leave,” the human condom said.

  “He’s not going to play, is he?” Jane said, between deep breaths.

  “I think he is,” Elle said.

  On stage, the guitar player picked out the familiar chords to “Move On”, and Jack’s haunting voice emerged as clearly as though it was s
till amplified. In that second he silenced the crowd. And as soon as he sang, his voice resonated in the lift as though he was there with them.

  “Ah, Jesus, I love this song!” the condom said, punching the door.

  “Makes no difference who you are, love will find you, yeah,

  Opera or movie star, love will find your path.

  All the money in the world won’t save you from that.

  All the beauty in the world you can’t just cover your tracks …”

  The audience joined in for the chorus:

  “And if you move on it will keep up

  And if you jump town you know you’ll be found.”

  “Should we make some noise?” Elle asked, after the group had sat in silence for a minute or two, save for Jane’s panting and Jack’s singing.

  “The bouncer will realize we’re in here,” the flyer man said, hoping that the bouncer was slightly more conscientious than his earlier encounter with him had suggested.

  “The silverback?” Elle snorted. “Fat chance.”

  “She’s right,” the condom said. “He was probably too busy picking fleas out of his arse to notice us getting in.”

  Elle laughed, clearly entertained by the condom’s crudity and her ability to pick up on and run with the primate theme.

  The flyer man looked at the doors and decided to try to force them apart. He couldn’t get his fingers between them, though, and when he’d established that none of the women carried crowbars, or anything remotely like crowbars, in their handbags he started to bang on the doors. This shook the lift and made Jane pant harder, shake and cry.

  “Breathe, Janey,” Elle said. “You’re all right, everything’s fine.”

  Jane wasn’t fine. She was experiencing chest pain and fighting the urge to run through the wall.

  “If you don’t stop shaking the lift that woman’s going to have a full-on panic attack if she’s not already having one,” the condom said to the flyer man.

  He turned and looked at Jane’s ghastly face, stopped shaking the lift and sat down. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Jane tried to smile at him but she couldn’t breathe, never mind smile.

  “Does anyone have a paper bag?” Elle asked.

  The condom said no immediately but the flyer man checked his briefcase. “No,” he said, “but try this.” He took out a large poster and fashioned it into a sort of bag. He handed it to Elle, who placed it around Jane’s mouth and once again instructed her to breathe.

  It didn’t work. Jane pulled the poster away from her lips and held it tightly against her chest, then she lay down on the floor, cursing herself for choosing to wear white linen, which was now rain-soaked and filthy. Oh, my God, I’m going to catch a flesh-eating disease from this floor. Oh, sweet God, whatever happens let my face be last to go. I don’t want my child saying goodbye to an open wound. Goodbye, Kurt, Mum loves you. Goodbye, Dominic, you’re a selfish bastard, a waster and an arse. God, I love you. Why can’t you love me? Goodbye, Mother, you’re a bitch in your heart but I don’t hate you so that’s something. Goodbye, Elle, focus on your career, stop doing stupid things and you’ll be fine without me.

  Elle viewed her sister prostrate on the floor, rubbing her chest, sweating profusely and breathing at a rate that couldn’t be good for a person. Jane had often talked about the possibility of this happening when Elle had bullied her into getting into a lift but she’d never actually experienced it before and, aside from the paper-bag idea, she had no clue what to do. “What can I do?” she asked Jane, who was busy watching herself float up towards the ceiling.

  At least I’m off the floor.

  The condom made a hah sound, stood up and repositioned herself on the other side of Jane, making the flyer man move over in the process. She took Jane’s hand from Elle because Jane’s other hand was holding the poster against her chest. “You are having a panic attack. You are not dying. No one dies from panic attacks,” the condom said.

  Jane stopped floating and returned to her body on the floor.

  “You can deal with this. Just let it happen and it will pass,” the condom said, and Jane listened and believed her. “It’s okay to feel anxious. You’ll be all right.”

  Jane’s breathing slowed, and for the next ten minutes the condom repeated the mantras and she began to feel normal again. By the time Elle and the flyer man had all but lost the will to live, she was able to sit up and, once her breathing was controlled enough to allow for speech, she thanked the condom. “I’m Jane.”

  “Leslie,” the condom replied.

  “Elle,” Elle said. “That was extremely impressive. Are you a doctor?”

  “No.”

  “Do you suffer with panic attacks?” Elle asked.

  “No.”

  “So how did you know what to say?” Elle refused to be put off by Leslie’s monosyllabic answers.

  “My sister used to suffer from them.”

  “Used to? She got over them?” Elle looked from Leslie to Jane and was about to put her thumbs up.

  “She died,” Leslie said, and Jane’s cheeks once again lost colour, “but not from a panic attack.” She smiled at Jane, who nodded gratefully.

  Elle focused on the flyer man, who was sitting quietly in the corner. “So what’s your name?”

  “Tom.” He turned to Jane. “Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have rocked the boat, so to speak.”

  Jane smiled at him. “It’s fine. I’m just being silly.”

  On stage Jack had been talking and the audience were laughing. He began to sing “Bedsprings” a cappella.

  “Take me back to your old ma’s place

  where the bedspring squeaks and your body shakes

  and I lose myself before the morning takes me home.

  Love me in the doorway I’ll love you on the stairs …”

  Elle started to click her fingers. “I love this song.”

  Leslie also loved it. Please, please, don’t sing it and kill it.

  Jane straightened a little and decided to sit on her bag.

  “It’s a bit late to be thinking about ruining your suit, Jane,” Elle said, still clicking.

  “I know.” Jane sighed, looking at the filthy floor. “I’m going to need a tetanus shot after this.”

  Elle noticed Leslie moving to the music and Jack was heading for the chorus. “Sing it with me, Leslie!” she said.

  “No,” said Leslie.

  “Is ‘no’ your very favourite word?” Elle asked.

  “No.”

  Elle laughed. I like you. “Come on, I know you want to.”

  And Leslie did want to, and if she didn’t, she’d have to listen to Elle murder it anyway. So when the chorus hit she found herself in a lift singing with a total stranger. This is not me but I like it.

  “Oh come on down while we’re in full bloom

  It’s big bright night, let’s howl at the moon.”

  Tom laughed at the women, and even Jane forgot her anxiety for a moment or two to enjoy the sight of her sister and Leslie howling.

  “Whoa come on down we’re in full bloom,

  Howl at the, howl at the, howl at the moon.”

  They howled and howled and by the end they weren’t half bad.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  Tom stood up and pressed his hand against the door. “Hello.”

  “How many are in there?” the voice asked.

  “Four of us,” Tom said.

  “Okay, sir, we hope to have the generator up and running soon.”

  “Thanks,” Tom said.

  “Is everyone okay?” the voice asked.

  “We’re fine,” Tom said, looking at Jane, who nodded to signal she was feeling better.

  Before the man got a chance to ask another question Jack began “Georgie Boy” and the whole audience were singing along, drowning the lone voice.

  Tom sat down.

  Jane finally loosened her grip on the poster that was crumpled against her chest. She opened it out
and saw a picture of a woman she recognized. She was older than Jane remembered her but unmistakable. “Alex? Alexandra Walsh?”

  Tom stared at Jane. “You know her?”

  “I used to.”

  “They were best friends,” Elle said, “but then my sister got pregnant at seventeen and Alexandra disappeared. So maybe not best friends after all.”

  “Elle,” Jane said, in a tone that meant “shut up”. “She’s missing?” she asked Tom.

  “Since June.”

  “My God, that’s terrible!” Jane was genuinely upset. She raised a shaking hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

  Elle took the flyer out of her pocket and looked at it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said she disappeared. Sometimes I’m an ass. It’s genetic – you’d have to meet my mother to understand.”

  Tom attempted to smile at her, to reassure her that she was forgiven.

  “What happened?” Jane asked.

  “She went to Dalkey and vanished.”

  “As in gone?” Elle said.

  “Gone.”

  “Is it possible she … hurt herself?” Leslie asked.

  “No,” Tom said firmly, “it’s not.”

  “I know it’s been a long time but I agree with Tom. That just doesn’t sound like the girl I knew.” Jane sighed and shook her head. Her eyes filled but she didn’t cry.

  “What do the police say?” Leslie asked.

  “They say they’re doing the best they can. They’ve been very good to us, really.”

  “How’s Breda?” Jane asked, referring to Alexandra’s mother.

  “Devastated – completely and utterly devastated.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Jane said. “Breda was always so kind to me. When I had my son she knitted him a blue blanket. He didn’t go anywhere without that blanket for years.”

  “I remember that – it was manky,” Elle said.

  “We were trying for a baby for a long time,” said Tom. “Alexandra gave up work after Christmas hoping it would help …” He trailed off, as if he’d already said too much. Alexandra would kill him if she knew he was talking about their private life to strangers, even if she had been friends with one of them when she was young. And already so much of their private life had been laid bare.