Candy (7 page)

“Hello?” I said. “Is that Candy?”

“Yeah…hold on.” The phone got muffled, covered by a hand, and I could hear low voices mumbling in the background. Female voices…a shout…a laugh…then the line opened up again and Candy came back on. “Yeah…hello?”

“Candy?” I said. “It’s Joe…”

“Who?”

“Joe…Joe Beck.”

“Bet?
”

“No, Beck…B-E-C-K. Joe Beck. We met last week…Thursday…I saw you at the station—”

“Where?”

“King’s Cross—”

“When?”

“Thursday,” I said, my heart sinking fast. “Last Thursday…” I looked down at the credit display on the phone, staring blankly at the numbers, wondering if it was worth putting any more money in. She obviously didn’t remember me. Why bother prolonging things? Why not just say good-bye and hang up?

But then her voice piped up—“Joe!”—and she suddenly sounded fresh and excited. “Joe from McDonald’s?”

“Yeah…”

“God—why didn’t you
say?
Lumpy Joe, right? The guy who dropped all his money?”

“Yeah…”

“Joe the Hat.”

I laughed.

“Christ,” she said, “you took your time, didn’t you? Why didn’t you
ring
me?”

“I just did.”

“It’s been over a
week.
”

“Yeah, I know…I’m sorry…I didn’t know…”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

A warm glow ballooned in my chest. She wanted to talk to me…she wanted to talk to
me!
The pips went and I stuck some more coins in.

“Joe?” Candy said. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah…I was just…”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah…great.”

“How’s the lump?”

“It’s gone now. The doctor sucked it out—”

“He
what?
”

“With a needle…he sucked out all the goo with a needle. It’s fine now.”

“You’re not lumpy anymore?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s good. How’s the group going? The Katies. You made it big yet?”

“Not quite.”

She sniffed, and I heard her lighting a cigarette.

I said, “How are you doing? Is everything OK?”

“Yeah,” she said breezily, “you know…same old stuff. Anyway, it’s really good to talk to you, Joe. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She cleared her throat. “Look, about what happened…with Iggy and everything…”

I waited for her to go on.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I thought you’d gone. I just wanted to say sorry, you know? About Iggy…he didn’t mean anything. He just gets a bit funny sometimes. He gets a bit carried away.”

“Right,” I said hesitantly.

“All that stuff he was saying…? He was just messing around.”

“Messing around?”

“He’s got a weird sense of humor.”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s hard to believe…”

She was right about that.

“I just wanted to apologize,” she said. “I feel really bad about it.”

“It’s OK,” I found myself saying. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah…no problem. As long as he’s not really going to cut my throat…”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a very reassuring laugh. It sounded kind of forced.

“Who is he, anyway?” I said.

“Who—Iggy?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s just…Well, he’s no one, really.” I heard her sucking in smoke. “He’s just a friend of a friend…you know…just someone I know. Anyway, listen, I’m really sorry he gave you a hard time. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…”

“Sorry?”

She laughed again, but more naturally this time. “I don’t mean like that…I just meant if you wanted to go somewhere, you know, have a drink or something.”

“Oh, right…yeah…yeah, that’d be nice.”

“You don’t
have
to—”

“No…I’d really like to.”

“I could buy you a doughnut.”

“Yeah…”

“Great…OK, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know…Where do you live?”

“Anywhere in London’s fine with me. Is that all right with you?”

“Yeah…How about the zoo?”

“The zoo?”

I could have kicked myself. It was such a stupid thing to say, and I had no idea why I’d said it. I mean—the zoo?
What’s the
matter
with you?
I asked myself.
She asks you out for a drink…and you tell her you want to go to the
zoo
?

“London Zoo?” Candy said.

“Yeah, but—”

“That’d be great. I’d
love
to go to the zoo. I haven’t been there for ages.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…the only thing is—”

Here we go,
I thought.

“—I’m a bit limited for time.”

“Oh…well, that’s OK. We don’t have to stay long—”

“No, I mean date-wise. I’m a bit busy at the moment…The only day I can get away is Tuesday.”

“This Tuesday?”

“Yeah—is that going to be all right?”

“You mean the Tuesday coming…after this weekend…in a few days’ time?”

“Yes, Joe…the Tuesday after the Monday after the Sunday—”

“Yeah, all right. I was just making sure…”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“What?”

She laughed. “Can you make it on Tuesday or not?”

“Yeah,” I said, without even thinking about it. “Yeah, Tuesday’s fine. Where shall I meet you?”

“Outside the main gates?”

“OK—what time?”

“Not too early…”

“Twelve?”

“Sounds good.”

“Twelve o’clock, Tuesday morning, outside London Zoo.”

“The main gates.”

“Right—the main gates. Do you want my cell phone number just in case—”

“Hold on.”

The phone got muffled again. This time I could hear doors slamming in the background, raised voices, heavy footsteps…

“Candy?” I said. “Candy—”

“Joe,” she whispered quickly. “I’ve got to go—”

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing…I’ll tell you later.” Her voice was scarcely audible now. “See you on Tuesday—OK? Make sure you’re there.”

“Yeah, but—”

The line went dead.

I stayed in the phone booth for a while, trying to unscramble my thoughts…replaying the conversation in my head, going over and over what Candy had said, what she’d meant, what it all meant to me, and how it made me feel…

That was the hardest thing to understand.

How did I feel?

She’d lied to me—I was pretty sure of that. She’d lied to me. She was hiding things from me. And I had no way of knowing who she really was. Was she the harsh-sounding Candy who’d answered the phone, the one with the slur in her voice? Or was she the one with the bubbly laugh, the one who’d called me Joe the Hat?
Maybe she’s both?
I thought.
Maybe she has a split personality? Maybe she’s
a schizophrenic prostitute with a serious drug problem and a psychopathic monster for a pimp…?

Yeah,
I told myself,
maybe she is…but she’s still incredibly pretty, isn’t she? She still has the brightest smile and the darkest eyes and that wonderful scent of freshly washed skin…and everything about her still turns your body inside out…and she’s still going to the zoo with you on Tuesday…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sudden knocking on the phone booth window scared the life out of me. When I’d finished jumping out of my skin, I peered through the window and saw a shrunken old lady leaning on a stick, squinting at me.

“You all right?” she screeched. “You sick or something?”

I opened the door. “Sorry?”

“I thought you was dying in there,” she said, clicking her teeth. “You finished now? Only I got some calls to make.”

I stepped out and held the door open for her.

And then I went home.

S
ometimes a day is just right: the weather, the world, the way everything feels—your body, your clothes, your presence of mind…sometimes it all fits together in just the right way, the way it’s supposed to be.

Tuesday was one of those days.

It started off frosty and cold, with a misty white haze in the air, but as the morning cleared and the sun came out, the winter mist burned away and the skies shone down with the bright blue promise of spring. It was still too early for any real warmth in the air, but the flood of fresh light was enough to breathe life into everything.

Birds were singing.

People were smiling.

The air felt vibrant and fresh.

It was a fine day for going to the zoo.

I caught the ten-thirty train, which got me to Liverpool Street at just past eleven, then I took a tube to Camden
Town and walked the rest of the way from there. The streets were busy, but not too busy, and my heart was racing, but not too fast. Fast enough to put a smile on my face and a bounce in my step, but not fast enough to make me feel sick. That kind of fast.

Good
fast.

Exciting.

Thrilling.

Energizing.

Part of the excitement, I suppose, came from knowing that I should have been at school. It was a childish kind of excitement, a forbidden thrill, and as I walked the downtrodden streets of Camden, then up through Parkway and into the splendor of Regent’s Park, I knew in the back of my mind that I’d probably pay for it later. I hadn’t had a lot of time to think things through, so all I’d done that morning was wait for Dad to leave for work and then plead with Gina to cover for me. I didn’t tell her the truth, of course. I mean, we’re pretty close, and she’s very understanding, but I’m not sure she would have understood why I was going to the zoo with Candy. So I made up a story about some equipment problems with Friday’s gig in London.

“It’s really important,” I told her. “If we don’t get it sorted out today, the whole thing’s going to be called off.”

“I can’t give you a lift into London, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “I have to go to work in a minute. I’m late already.”

“No, it’s not that. I just need you to ring up school for me and tell them I’m sick.”

She looked at me. “You want me to
lie
for you?”

“Yeah—if you wouldn’t mind.”

She laughed. “And what’s going to happen when Dad finds out?”

“He won’t—”

“Yes, he will—he always finds out. He’s like Columbo.”

“What—you mean squinty and out-of-date?”

“You know what I mean.”

“OK,” I said. “If he does find out, I’ll just tell him I lied to you. I’ll tell him I pretended to be ill and conned you into ringing up school—”

She shook her head. “I’m supposed to be a
nurse,
Joe. I’m supposed to
know
whether people are sick or not. And if they
are
sick, I’m supposed to look after them—”

“You
would
be looking after me.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I just told you, I have to go to work. I can’t stay at home all day looking after you—”

“Yeah, but that’s the whole point. You don’t
have
to stay home and look after me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m
not
ill, am I? And I won’t be here, anyway—I’ll be in London.”

Gina stared at me for a moment, trying to make sense of what I’d just said and wondering if it was worth arguing about. Then she glanced at the clock and let out a sigh. “All right,” she said, reaching for the phone. “But you owe me big-time for this—OK? And when Dad finds out…”

When Dad finds out…

Yeah, she was right—he
would
find out. He always did. Then I’d get into trouble and Gina would have to lie for me again and Dad would get all huffy and puffy for a
couple of weeks, lecturing me all the time, going on and on about careers and responsibility and trust and God-knows-what-else…

But that was for another day.

It wasn’t for now.

Now was just now. Just walking the sun-drenched streets, looking around at the regal white houses and the lush green spread of the park, and the calming waters of the canal, and the little stone bridges, and the barges, and the ducks, and the distant sounds of the zoo, drifting in the air, the faint cries of the birds, the monkeys, the sea lions…

Animal sounds.

The way they mixed weirdly with the sounds of the city reminded me of long-forgotten family outings, when I was just a kid and Gina used to hold my hand and lead me around the zoo, pointing out the animals and telling me what they were, while Mum and Dad strolled along behind us, arm in arm, lost in their own little world…

“Joe!”

I looked up at the sound of Candy’s voice and realized I was approaching the main entrance of the zoo. There were quite a few people milling around—groups of tourists, schoolkids, bus tours—but I couldn’t see Candy anywhere. I looked around, scanning the entrance area, craning my neck to see through the crowds, and then I heard her voice again—“Here…I’m over here…”—and I turned to the left, but I still couldn’t see her. All I could see was a nice young girl in jeans and a turquoise sweater, leaning against the wall, waving at someone behind me. I looked around to see who she was waving at, expecting to see her family,
her mum and dad, or maybe her friend from school…and then Candy’s voice cut through the air again.

“Joe…for Christ’s sake. What are you doing? It’s
me.
”

When I turned around again, the girl in the turquoise sweater was walking toward me, smiling that smile, and I couldn’t believe I’d mistaken her for someone else. She was Candy all over—the face, the smile, the walk, the body…the lingering looks from everyone around her.

“What are you doing?” she said, coming up to me. “Are you trying to avoid me or something?”

“Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t recognize you. You look different.”

She stopped in front of me, striking a pose—chin out, head back, hands in her back pockets. “D’you like it?”

The jeans were tight, and so was the sweater—tight and short, drawing my eyes to her midriff, just like before. Her hair was pinned back with clips and baubles and tied at the back in a ponytail. Although she was still wearing makeup, it wasn’t as obvious as it was before. Her face seemed younger and fresher. But no less stunning.

“Very nice,” I said, tearing my eyes away.

“Thanks…you look pretty good yourself.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stood there, looking stupid. Candy smiled brightly at me for a moment, then she took her hands from her pockets and moved toward me, and before I knew it she’d stepped up and kissed me on the cheek.

It was only a peck…a friendly little kiss…

A brush of her lips…

Barely a touch…

And it wasn’t as if I’d never been kissed before. I was no
Romeo, by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d had my moments. I’d been around the block once or twice…well, maybe not
all
the way around, but far enough to know what’s what, if you know what I mean.

This, though…

This simple kiss.

This was something else.

God…it felt so good. I thought I was going to
explode.
Something inside me seemed to rise up into the sky, up into the blue, rising higher and higher until the air was so thin I could hardly breathe and I thought for a moment I was dying.

“You ready, then?” Candy said.

“Uh?”

She laughed and patted my arm. “Come on. If we get going now, we might catch the feeding times.”

Once we’d gone through the turnstiles and moved away from the entrance, the zoo wasn’t as busy as it had seemed from outside. Although it was a bit smaller than I remembered—with fewer open spaces and a lot more buildings—it was still a pretty big place, and its myriad pathways and tunnels were enough to spread out the bused-in groups of schoolkids and tourists, leaving us plenty of room to wander around and take our time. Not that Candy was doing much wandering. As soon as we’d gone through the gates, her face had lit up and she’d started scampering around, flitting from cage to cage, jabbering away like an overexcited child—

“Hey, Joe, look at this…God, look at the size of that lion! It’s e
nor
mous…have they got any hippos? Where’s
the hippos? What’s that? Looks like some kind of monkey…where’s the sign that tells you what it is? They used to have signs…”

I hadn’t expected her to get so excited, so it was a bit of a surprise at first—in fact, it was a
lot
of a surprise. I suppose I’d assumed she’d be really cool about everything—strolling around, calm as you like, chatting quietly to me, casting occasional curious glances at the animals…

I don’t know why I’d thought that.

It was a pretty stupid assumption to make.

But, even so, it
was
kind of odd that she wasn’t chatting away to me. Every time I tried to talk to her, she’d listen for a second and then suddenly shoot off in another direction to look at some more animals, or she’d start jabbering again—

“…I came here once on a school trip and we had to fill in all these forms with questions about the animals, like where they lived and what they ate and everything, and everyone just copied it all down from the information signs on the cages…Where’s the penguins? Have they still got penguins? What’s that over there…?”

It was unsettling, and also a bit disappointing. I didn’t just want her to be with me, I wanted her to
be
with me. I wanted us to walk together, talk together, be together…I wanted to be part of her excitement, not just a spectator. Not that I
minded
being a spectator. I mean, although I felt a bit detached from her excitement, there was still something exhilarating about it, something that gave me a strange little kick, as if it
was
me she was getting excited about, even though I knew that it wasn’t.

And that was OK.

It wasn’t perfect, but I could live with it.

So after a while, that’s what I did. I gave up trying to make conversation and just wandered along behind her, watching her every move. At first I tried to be subtle about it—disguising my glances, pretending to look elsewhere—but, as far as I could tell, she wasn’t aware of my attention, so in the end I stopped trying to be subtle and just watched her quite openly instead. I knew in my heart that I shouldn’t be doing it, and my conscience kept nagging away at me—
you ought to be ashamed of yourself, watching her without her knowing, ogling her like some kind of sicko
—but I just couldn’t help it. My eyes had a life of their own, zapping back and forth between her face, her body, her legs, her breasts…and my thoughts were running wild—
Where does she come from? What does she do? Is she really a prostitute? What does that mean? How old is she? Sixteen? Seventeen? Fifteen? Fourteen? Does it matter…?

Did it matter?

I couldn’t convince myself that it didn’t.

And I knew I had to talk to her. No matter how much I wanted to ignore all the questions and just enjoy the thrill of being with her, I knew it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t spend all day just gawping at her, for God’s sake. She was a person, not a photograph in a magazine. She was real.

We were heading toward the penguin pool now. I was walking along on my own, struggling with my guilty thoughts, when I looked up and saw Candy waiting for me at the end of the pathway. She was leaning against a signpost, smoking a cigarette, studying me closely. I got the feeling she knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Hey,” she said as I approached. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The
zoo.
”

“Oh, yeah…”

She rubbed her arms and pulled down her sleeves.

I said, “Aren’t you cold without a coat?”

“Never feel the cold,” she said. “I’ve got hot blood.”

Her skin looked cold to me—pale and white and prickled with goose bumps—but I didn’t say anything.

“Do you want to get a coffee or something?” she said. “There’s a little café over there.”

“OK.”

She dropped her cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then looped her arm through mine and started leading me up the path. “I’ll buy you that doughnut I promised you,” she said, leaning against me. “And then you can tell me all about yourself.”

Now
I
was the one with goose bumps.

It wasn’t much of a café, just a medium-sized room with a dozen or so tables and a serving counter at the front. It was empty and quiet, though, and it had a pretty nice view, and I didn’t really care what it was like, anyway. They didn’t have any doughnuts, so we got ourselves two Jungle Platters and two mugs of coffee, and Candy insisted on paying.

“My treat,” she said.

“But you paid for us to get in—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, pushing my money away and pulling a wad of notes from her purse. “See? I’m loaded.”

As we took our trays to a window table, my mind drifted back to the time in McDonald’s when she’d shown Iggy a handful of notes and said,
See? I wouldn’t lie to you, Iggy, you know I wouldn’t…
and he’d just sat there staring at her—
staring his stare—and she’d shrunk back into her seat, cowering in silence…

I looked at her now—putting her tray on the table, sorting out the cutlery, her face flushed bright with the warmth of the café—and it was hard to imagine that Iggy even existed.

I knew he did, though, and I knew I had to find out about him. But I also knew I had to be careful. If I said the wrong thing, if I got too pushy…I didn’t know what might happen.

“So,” Candy said, tucking into her chips, “where do you want to start?”

“Start what?”

“I want to know everything about you—where you were born, who you are, what you like doing…What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Am I being too nosy?”

“No, it’s not that—”

“All right,” she said. “How about if I tell you what I
think
you are, and you tell me if I’m right or wrong? Is that any better?”

“I don’t mind…”

“Right—OK…let’s see. Your dad’s a gynecologist—”