Black Chalk

‘And that’s a second from me,’ said Chad.

Jack laughed again. ‘Funny guys,’ he said. He opened his eyes, sat up and then showed them his palms for the very last time. ‘Such a fucking funny bunch of funny fucking fuckers.’ He got awkwardly to his feet and pointed up at the tower. ‘They keep that place locked up ever since Christina Balfour jumped. But I heard from Big Dave there’s another way up. Apparently if you go up the organ stairs in the chapel there’s a window. You can get along the roof of Great Hall and climb up from there. Big Dave said it was pretty easy, a bunch of them got stoned there one night. I don’t know why, Dee, but I just remembered I’ve been meaning to pass that information on to you for a long time.’ Jack looked at his watch and woodenly acted surprise at the hour. ‘Funny guys,’ he said, ‘funny, funny guys.’ And then Jack walked away, still laughing. Laughing and shaking his head.

LII(ix) The next day, half an hour after they had arranged, Jack had not arrived. While Shortest beamed periodically at his wristwatch, the three of them agreed they would give Jack five more minutes and would then consider his resignation officially tendered. ‘In absentia,’ said Jolyon. And five minutes later, unanimously, they accepted.

LIII

LIIIDisappointingly, she plants her forehead kiss no more firmly than on previous occasions.

It is a brisker night than the last few and Dee wears a cardigan, large and grey, she has hooked her hands through the holes in its sleeves.

I think I remember this, I say, pulling at the cardigan as Dee sits down.

Oh yes, Dee says, inspecting herself. From the good old days. How many good old days did we have before the bad old days?

Hundreds, I say, more good days than bad.

But the score doesn’t matter, does it? Dee says.

I decide a diversion is called for. Gloom is not good for seduction. Do you still see anything of the others? I say.

Oh, yes, I see Jack and Emilia occasionally. I didn’t for the longest time but then I bumped into Jack quite by chance three years ago. And he was relatively easy to bump into – boy oh boy has Jackie-oh ballooned. So now we get together to cross tongues on occasion, the three of us have dinner sometimes . . .

The three of you?

Well, obviously Emilia’s there as well.

Obviously?

Oh, of course, Dee says, putting her hand to her mouth. You don’t even know that much, Jolyon, do you?

I shake my head urgently.

Sorry, Dee says. Well, they got married five years ago. Ms Emilia Jeffries has become Mrs Emilia Thomson, no P in Thomson.

But that’s great, I say, hoping I have not lost the ability to lie after so many years on my own. And what else can you tell me? What do they do?

Well, Jack spent most of his early twenties writing film scripts – and according to Emilia, several of them even nearly got made. Comedies, of course. Meanwhile he made just enough money to live writing snarky film reviews for underground magazines. Along came the Guardian and offered him the chance to go pseudo-underground. A few years later the phone rang, an ITV screen test was arranged and he landed the job of television presenter. So now he bounces round the screen being spiteful about artsy films and gushing for the mainstream. I’m really quite worried that soon there might be conferred upon our Jack the status of National Treasure.

I pause to take this all in. And then I laugh. Well, I think that’s great for Jack, I say, and I think I nearly half believe this. But how did he and Emilia end up together?

Emilia spent her twenties researching brain injuries, married to an enthralling Argentine. But that see-saw relationship ended in tears and she bumped into Jack at a Pitt reunion. So she never did get her vet named Giles. But maybe Jack became her safe choice. With his TV salary they moved into a big house in the country and Emilia was able to give up her research, which had been exhausting her. She became an interior designer, she specialises in something she calls Neo-Rural. I think that means a lot of wood and plastic, she’s very much in demand among the wealthier echelons of Hertfordshire. Jack’s determined she should follow him onto TV. Last thing I heard, she’s up for one of those home makeover shows. Well, Emilia always did have a face for TV. Secretly I think of them as the Chinese restaurant couple, sweet and sour.

I laugh at Dee’s joke. Any children? I ask.

Nooo, Dee says, and then she gives me a wink. And where would you like to cast your vote as to why this might be?

My vote goes to – they prefer childless tranquillity, I say.