Justin Ward Synopsis A Northern Thing

A Northern Thing

Night.

Rain.

Steel on stone.

The clatter of high-heeled shoes echoing down the outside stairwell and onto the

street below.

"David! Come! Quick!" Greg shouts from the window.

"What now?" replies David, irritably.

"It’s that woman again, from the upstairs flat."

David reaches the window just in time to catch a whisp of her white blonde hair, and the tail of her charcoal coloured gabardine, as she throws herself into the back of a black cab. "Fuck it! Missed her again!" he curses, watching the cab drive away along the rain swept street and out of sight. "Did you get a good look at her?"

"Just the back of her head again," Greg replies.

"Well you must have seen something! You’ve been sitting at the window for the last twenty-five minutes. What was she wearing?"

"The usual. Black high heeled shoes, fishnet tights, grey mack and all that hair piled up on her head like Ivana Trump!"

"I think she’s his mother, you know!" David giggles.

"What kind of a mother dresses like that?"

"The kind that charges by the hour."

"Don’t be ridiculous!" says Greg. "If she was on the game, most of her customers will have gone home by now. Why would his mother be leaving at this time of night?"

"Maybe she’s more like a high class call girl!"

"Maybe she’s not his mother at all," Greg insists.

"Maybe she’s working for him?"

"Maybe you’ve got an overactive imagination." David moves away and continues to open and unwrap the contents of a box they have brought in out of their car. The living room is full of dusty wooden crates and cardboard boxes. They only moved in the day before last and still haven’t found time to unpack. David is struggling with the cellotape on the box and is impatiently tugging at the cardboard. "You never hear him, do you?" he begins again.

"Hear him?" Greg inquires.

"I mean, after she’s gone; there’s never a sound. You hear him singing at the top of his voice and stomping around, flat-footed bastard, all day long. But as soon as she leaves… Silence!"

"Well what do you expect? It’s eleven o’clock at night. Perhaps he goes to bed!"

David shrugs his shoulders and attacks the box. Greg winces as he watches David, again, determined to rip it open. "Come on then!" says David. "Don’t just sit there and watch!"

Suddenly, before Greg can move to help, the whole side of the box gives way. Its contents of pornographic material and sex toys spills out onto the floor as David staggers backward. Greg falls about laughing.

"You arsehole. I wish you’d label the bloody boxes! If my mother were here now, she’d get a lovely eyeful of that, wouldn’t she? You want to kill her or something?"

"She wishes she could get some of that herself."

"Greg!" David half snarls, half giggles.

"No, you’re probably right! Wouldn’t go with her magnolia wallpaper and chintz."

"Don’t insult my mother," says David, desperately trying to be serious. "She got rid of the chintz years ago."

It goes on like this for three days: David in nesting mode, unpacking cases, decorating, arranging furniture, smashing cockroaches… while all the time, Greg watches for the mysterious woman who visits the new upstairs neighbour. This is what they have become reduced to: Two men in their early twenties on the edge of domesticity. Greg is nearing the end of his fine art degree and David is in the first year of his career as a schoolteacher. They both have high hopes for the future, but slowly, without either of them noticing, the reality of the daily grind has caught up with them. Litter on the streets. Refugees without homes. School kids yelling ‘Queer!’ No love. No inspiration. No money. Mom’s dog dying. Grandad losing his mind. All the sparkle of the city, gone. All the glitter of youth- tarnished.

Ironically, their moving in together has coincided with the discovery of this female, whose comings and goings are soon becoming their obsession. Little do they realize how big she will feature in their lives, or how quickly she will take the gloom away.

It is the fifth day before David’s parents descend.

The living room has been transformed. The clutter has all gone and the walls have been painted lavender. Just how they wanted it.

"Aw- got it looking nice, haven’t you!" says David’s mum, Gloria, as she walks in and places two enormous tins of magnolia paint on the coffee table. "I say, got it looking nice, haven’t they Jim?" she repeats to David’s father who is wrestling with a giant yucca plant.

"Yes," says Jim. "Nice little pad, eh?"

"Yes. Nice little pad, eh kids?" says Gloria.

Gloria glides a finger across the mantlepiece, checking for dust. "Quick lick of paint… have it looking like new. Jim put that yucca down before you strain your hernia again."

David and Greg exchange glances of disbelief.

"Cup of tea, Glo?" Greg interjects.

"Aw- yes, lovely!" says Gloria. "Chocolate biscuits?"

"Yes, Glo. Beer, Jim?"

"He’s driving, Greg! Better make it a cuppa."

"I’ll do it!" says David, striding past Gloria, into the kitchen.

"What’s up with you face-ache? Still in teacher mode?" Gloria rolls her eyes and turns to Greg. "You two alright?" she half mouths, half whispers.

"Yeah. He was back at school today, that’s why he’s so worked up."

"Aw- I forgot it was the end of the holidays. Bloody hell, I bet you’re ready to jump in the cut, aren’t you?"

"Give me time!" whispers Greg.

"So what’s happened today to make him so yampy?"

"Sir… can’t I go? I’m desperate. Richard and Adrian have been gone ages."

"I said no!" snapped David. "You’ve had all dinnertime! What’s the matter with you? Got a weak bladder?"

"But Sir… I’ve finished my drawing, look!"

"Okay, Year nine, you’re doing really well with this work. Another twenty minutes hard work. I just have to pop out of the room for a moment. Miss Jackson is next door and will be listening for any trouble. Anyone moves out of their seat and she’ll take a very big stick to you. Understood?"

A collective "Yes sir" came after a moments silence.

David walked out of the classroom and silently into the boy’s toilet. A deserted row of cubicles. A running tap. He turned the tap off. And then, he heard a noise. Shuffling. Heavy breathing… coming from one of the cubicles. He bent over to look underneath the door. Four feet instead of two. He felt his own heartbeat begin to race. What in God’s name? He moved closer to the cubicle.

The door didn’t quite meet the frame on the outside of the cubicle. He stood there fascinated, for a moment. He could see the two boys moving around inside. Shirts unbuttoned. Richard sitting down on the lavatory seat. Trousers round his ankles. Adrian bending over him. Moaning… moaning… "Oh… oh… I’m gonna-"

"Alright boys, that’s enough!" David shouted and rapped his fist on the cubicle door. "Work to be done."
"Shit!" he heard Adrian gasp.

"Mother-fucker," Richard whispered.

"Never mind your mother, Richard!" David blasted. "I want you both back in my room. Now! Open this door at once."

A tornado in a schoolboy’s toilet cubicle. All buttons and zips and sweaty chests and throbbing cocks and Oh… sir… oh, don’t tell me Mum. Oh fuck… and… The two boys came out of the cubicle, red faced, heads down to the floor. Richard’s shirt was half open and hanging out of his trousers. Both of them had a look of terror on their faces.

"Look at you!" David growled. "Tuck your shirts in and fasten your buttons."

The two boys snapped to attention and made themselves look reasonably presentable. "Get in that classroom. Now!" he yelled.

At the end of the lesson he let the class go, except for Richard and Adrian. "Poofs" somebody shouted, leaving the room. David had wanted to make a thing of it, but knew in the circumstances, he had to be cool.

"Listen boys. If you want to deal your football cards or your Pogs or whatever it was you were swapping in the toilet…" Richard and Adrian looked at each other, trembling, "…do it in your own time and not in mine. Got it?" He wanted to kick them both for being so stupid but he knew they had nowhere else to go. Home, school, wherever they went, walls have ears. Too late anyway. These two were already of the ilk that got a kick out of danger. Slippery slope. Where do you go from a public lavatory?

"Sorry Sir."

"Sorry Sir."

That smashed it. Sorry!

"Don’t be sorry, for God’s sake," David said. His voice got louder. "Get some wits about you! You can’t just…"

Richard and Adrian shrank away from him, half pretending not to understand what he was talking about, half talking in every word.

"You can’t just…" He couldn’t find the fucking words. "…just disappear in the middle of lessons. Not in my lesson! We’re here to learn. Not mess about in the toilet." It stung him. He knew that what they were learning in the toilet was worth a hundred times what he was trying to teach them in the classroom. The beauty of adolescence. The alternative curriculum.

"Are we going to be reported, Sir?" said Richard.

"For what? For swapping football cards in the toilet cubicle?" David joked to himself. "No. Listen, sunshine… You miss one of my lessons again and I’ll show you a temper you won’t forget for the next ten years. Now move!"

David swaggers the room with three cups of tea, a can of beer and a large packet of chocolate digestives. "Talking about me, are you? Bitches! There you go Dad!"

"Jim! What have I told you..?" Gloria starts.

"Oh shut up you old ride," interrupts David.

Gloria wrinkles her nose up at David. "Darren’s a nice lad, isn’t he?" she begins again.

"Who’s Darren?" asks Greg.

Gloria points to the ceiling. "You’re neighbour… Upstairs."

"How do you know his name is Darren?"

"Ask a silly question!" says David. "She can get where Scully and Mulder can’t get. FBI think she’s over qualified."

"He’s been living up there for twelve months. He lives alone. He works as a club host and he’s going to pop down for a cuppa later. He’s invited me to his friend’s hair salon for a cut ‘n’ blow dry. What does a ‘club host’ do?"

"God only knows," says Greg. "Did he mention the woman who comes to see him?"

"What woman?"

"Didn’t know that one did you?" David smirks.

"He’s got this woman who’s always there. She leaves the flat at the same time every night," says Greg.

"Well she’s not his girlfriend. He told me he was single." Gloria sits in an armchair and smiles smugly to herself.

"I suppose you know he’s got a twelve inch cock too?"

"No, it’s only seven inches. I already asked him."

"You didn’t, Glo," laughs Greg.

"I did," she replies, pleased with herself.

"You have no shame!" David folds his arms defensively. "Dad! I don’t know where you think that yucca’s going, but it’s not staying in here!"

"Ungrateful sod!" says Jim.

"I never asked you to bring a fucking jungle with you. And what’s the bloody magnolia for. It’s staying lavender!"

"Aw- had a bad day at school, have we?" asks Gloria. "Well don’t take it out on us. We’re only trying to do you a favour. You need someone to help you chill out… Greg, can’t you give him a massage or something."

"Well now you come to mention it- Yes! I have had the most horrendous day." David snarled. "After I peeled chewing gum off the sole of my shoe, I then had to peel the chewing gum off my desk, and then I had to peel two boys off each other, who were giving each other head in the loos." David is not amused by his mother’s giggling. "Then I marked a hundred and one exams and now, I have to write a hundred and one school reports."

"Sounds like a good day’s work, to me!" The thing standing in the doorway is holding a bottle of red wine and five wine glasses. "Hi folks," she says as she sashays into the room. "The door was open. I’m Lavelle."

"Laaaaaaaaaav!" screams Gloria, looking over her shoulder to see the spectacle with the gabardine. She puts the glasses down on the coffee table and pulls a corkscrew out of her pocket and throws it at Jim. "’Erey’are Grandad, make yourself useful."

"God in heaven!" gasps Jim.

David and Greg, once again, exchange glances of disbelief.

"Eh boys - this is Darren!" exclaims Gloria.

"I’ve booked you in Glo. Tanya’s doing you’re hair on Friday. That alright?"

"Oh yes, Lavelle, that’s fine. Here, have a seat." Gloria moves to let Lavelle sit down. David and Greg knock back their tea. Gloria stands, chomping on a chocolate biscuit.

"Don’t be late, mind. You know how her implants get all uncomfortable when she gets annoyed." Lavelle sits down in the armchair with the precision of a princess. White blonde hair, piled on her head in masses of curls. Her face is pale, with a little black heart shaped beauty spot, positioned right on her left cheek. It’s difficult for her to sit back. She’s wearing a white lace-up corset and a long white PVC dress underneath her gabardine. She’s all glitter and powder and paint.

"I’ll be bang on time," says Gloria.

"David, your mother’s golden," addresses Lavelle. "I got my tights caught on a bit of that rusty metal out there, a few minutes ago and she saved me."

"She’s a bloody angel, ain’t she!" says Greg.

"Yeah, Angel of death," David hisses.

"Come on Grandad, get that bottle open. I can’t stay long. I’ll be late for the unveiling."

"The unveiling of what?" Gloria asks.

"Tanya’s new twat, of-course. She’s had the old flip-flop off."

"’Bout bloody time," says Gloria. "It’s been dangling there between her legs for too many years. No good to man nor beast." Gloria and Lavelle fall about laughing.

"Doctor said he couldn’t do the op. until she stopped taking drugs." says Lavelle. "I said she’d never get the bloody op. I mean, she sprinkles coke over her weetabix, before she goes to the salon."

David and Greg are dumbstruck.

"You two seem to know each other very well." Jim has uncorked the wine and is handing Lavelle a glass.

"What a fucking gentleman!" says Lavelle.

"Darren… Sorry, I mean Lavelle, plays Bingo with us down the constitutional club. Every thursday night."

"And what a fucking lark that is. They’ve got this big butch lesbian who calls the numbers."

"All in the name of cultural diversity." Gloria sniggers. "And Lav spends all her time flicking peanuts at her."

"And you can never get near the pool table, can you Glo, for lesbians?"

"No, Lav," says Gloria. "And the boys! You’d think it was a metropolis or something."

"Now, Glo, don’t use words you don’t understand," laughs Lavelle and turns to David. "What was that you were saying about blowjobs in toilets?"

David is alabaster. He is standing completely still, pale faced, mouth agape. "It doesn’t really matter now," he says. He has forgotten all about the day at school. He is transfixed by Lavelle. There’s something about the curiosity, sitting in his living room that makes him think of the funfair. There is nothing real about this moment at all. His mother and father are completely mesmerised, as is he, by the drag queen club host. They are entertained. And Lavelle is lost in it all. She is a born entertainer. Every move of the wrist, flick of an eyelash, shake of the head, is done for maximum effect.

Gloria throws back her wine. She studies Lavelle for a moment. Lavelle has very large hands for a woman. Her wrists are a little too thick to be completely convincing and Lavelle has a fetish for heavy make-up. Gloria has seen her apply it many times. In-fact, she has gained many application tips from her. Lavelle has a City and Guilds health and beauty certificate. She can apply lipstick like Da Vinci, but her hands are still too big.

"Would you ever think of going in for the op., Lav?" asks Gloria.

"What?" roars Lavelle. "I’m not a fucking tranny, Glo. This is what I do for a living. I am theatre. You don’t think I really want to be a woman?"

"Well, it’s just that you make such a good one!"

"That’s it! I’m off to see Tanya’s new cunt. And then I’ve got hell on earth, to host."

"Oh, it’s not that bad surely?" asks Gloria.

"No, not really. I’m sure to get fucked by a married man in the toilet. Ta-da-"

David studied Lavelle, carefully. Strangely, the idea of writing reports had vanished from his head. The trauma of seeing those two boys in the toilet together had faded completely. He just saw Lavelle, moving towards the door. And she was fantastic. All lipstick and pancake make-up. She made him jealous, envious. He didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. He wanted to sit in front of the mirror all day and take make-up tips from Lavelle.

"Don’t take life too seriously," she says to David, as she reaches the door. "It’s too short. Give those kids a bit of theatre."

David smiles back at her as she blows him a kiss.

That night and the next, David lies awake in bed with his arms wrapped around Greg. He thought of his new life, spread out in front of him. The new David. Something has changed in him. He will never be too serious again. His life would be all theatre. The city was all glitter again now.

And now lying next to Greg, a sense of warmth fills him again from inside. And as his heavy eyelids close he falls asleep once again, to the sound of steel on stone.