And then I saw Martin, right over the other side of the roof. I hid
in the shadows and watched him. I could see he'd done things properly:
he'd brought a little step-ladder, and some wire cutters, and he'd
managed to climb over the top like that. And he was just sitting on
the ledge, dangling his feet, looking down, taking nips out of a
little hip flask, smoking, thinking, while I waited. And he smoked and
he smoked and I waited and waited until in the end I couldn't wait any
more. I know it was his step-ladder, but I needed it. It wasn't going
to be much use to him. I never tried to push him. I'm not beefy enough
to push a grown man off a ledge. And I wouldn't have tried anyway. It
wouldn't have been right; it was up to him whether he jumped or not. I
just went up to him and put my hand through the wire and tapped him on
the shoulder. I only wanted to ask him if he was going to be long.
JESS
Before I got to the squat, I never had any intention of going onto
the roof. Honestly. I'd forgotten about the whole Toppers House thing
until I started speaking to this guy. I think he fancied me, which
isn't really saying much, seeing as I was about the only female under
thirty who could still stand up. He gave me a fag, and he told me his
name was Bong, and when I asked him why he was called Bong he said it
was because he always smoked his weed out of a bong. And I went, Does
that mean everyone else here is called Spliff? But he was just, like,
no, that bloke over there is called Mental Mike. And that one over
there is called Puddle. And that one over there is Nicky Turd. And so
on, until he'd been through everyone in the room he knew.
But the ten minutes I spent talking to Bong made history. Well, not
history like 55BC or 1939. Not historical history, unless one of us
goes on to invent a time machine or stops Britain from being invaded
by Al-Qaida or something. But who knows what would have happened to us
if Bong hadn't fancied me? Because before he started chatting me up I
was just about to go home, and Maureen and Martin would be dead now,
probably, and....well, everything would have been different.
When Bong had finished going through his list, he looked at me and
he went, You're not thinking of going up on the roof, are you? And I
thought, not with you, stoner-brain. And he went, because I can see
the pain and desperation in your eyes. I was well pissed by that time,
so looking back on it, I'm pretty sure that what he could see in my
eyes were seven Bacardi Breezers and two cans of Special Brew. I just
went, Oh, really? And he went, Yeah, see, I've been put on suicide
watch, to look out for people who've only come here because they want
to go upstairs. And I was like, What happens upstairs? And he laughed,
and went, You're joking, aren't you? This is Toppers House, man. This
is where people kill themselves. And I would never have thought of it
if he hadn't said that. Everything suddenly made sense. Because even
though I'd been about to go home, I couldn't imagine what I'd do when
I got there, and I couldn't imagine waking up in the morning. I wanted
Chas, and he didn't want me, and I suddenly realised that easily the
best thing to do was make my life as short as I possibly could. I
almost laughed, it was so neat: I wanted to make my life short, and I
was at a party in Toppers' House, and the coincidence was too much. It
was like a message from God. OK, it was disappointing that all God had
to say to me was, like, Jump off a roof, but I didn't blame Him. What
else was he supposed to tell me?
Copyright Nick Hornby 2005. All rights reserved. Reproduced by the permission of Putnam Publishing. No part of this book maybe reproduced without written permission from the publisher.
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