Ralph's Party (13 page)

'Yeah, he's a great bloke.' Ralph wanted to say something bad about Smith, put him down, but that was realy smal-minded and mean. He wanted to tel Jem about Smith's disastrous romantic history, that would take the shine off her rose-tinted glasses. He wanted to tel her that Smith thought her ideas about dreams and destiny were ludicrous but a good way to get into her knickers. He wanted to tel her that Smith would drop

her like a hot potato if Cheri was so much as to glance in his direction. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't possibly say any of it. Jem saved him from his thoughts.

'How come you don't paint any more?'

Wel, they realy were getting to the nitty-gritty tonight.

Thew — that's a big question. I wouldn't say that 1 don't paint any more, more that I don't paint at the moment. I've tried, but the inspiration just isn't there. Maybe I've got too complacent. I was very unhappy when I was younger, very introspective - it was easy to paint then.'

'You've cut yourself off, haven't you? Cut yourself off from feeling things. I bet if you were to meet someone and fal in love it would al come back, al those emotions would be unlocked and you'd be straight down to the studio. It wouldn't feel like a chore, like an effort. Yes, that's Dr Jem's remedy. Get yourself a decent woman and fal in love.'

Irony was just so painful sometimes.

Ralph's eyes were starting to stream now, the chili heat was on slow-release and his mouth was burning, his lips were swolen, his nose was running and his mind was in overdrive, ful of things he wanted to say but couldn't.

'Not finding this too hot, are you, Ralph? Al that talk about how you've never had a curry that defeated you?' Jem teased.

'Absolutely not.' Another lie, but there was no way he was going to admit that to this girl! 'Just how I like it. You look like you're suffering yourself, Miss I'm-So-Hard.'

'Humph - no way! This is mild compared to my usual curries, I was being kind for your sake.'

'Oh, I see, you think you're a bit of a chili queen, do you?'

'I don't think it, I
know
it. Fve never met anyone who can eat food as hot as I can.'

'Wel, I think you've just met your match.' Ralph was wel and truly fired up with competitive enthusiasm now. He leapt up from the table and took a handful of raw chilies from the bag on the counter.

'OK, one chili each, whole, no nibbling. Let's separate the men from the mice.'

'No problem. Go on, let me have it.'

Oh, the pain, the sweet searing pain as the astringent oils from the chilies slowly released themselves over their tongues, first a crack as the shiny green skin broke under teeth, then a hint of flavour folowed by an exhilarating burst of fire ineffectualy doused by a sudden flow of saliva.

You can't swalow it, you've got to chew the whole thing and display it on your tongue,' said Ralph.

Fingers of fire licked at the back of their throats, their brains sending frantic signals to al areas of the body. Jem and Ralph chewed feverishly, rapidly inhaling and exhaling through puckered lips like antenatal mothers and waving their hands in front of their mouths in a futile attempt to calm the flames.

'Oh, fuck- fuck fuck fuck - it's burning a hole through my tongue!'

'It's burning a hole into the back of my throat!'

Heart racing, sweat flowing, Ralph beat his fists off the tabletop, his eyes bulging slightly out of his head and tears roling down his cheeks.

'OK, OK, time to show, time to show - Fve got to swalow this thing before it kils me,' Jem shouted, her cheeks pinker than ever.

Tongue out, please.'

Ralph and Jem stuck out their tongues, displaying smal beds of green mush, and swalowed.

'Water, water!!!' yeled Ralph.

'No, water makes it worse. Lager!'

They gulped greedily but the liquid made no difference.

'Oh, God, I think I'm going to die! Rice, eat some plain rice!'

They both made a dash to the cooker and picked up handfuls of rice with their fingers, stuffing it into their mouths.

'Ice!
Is
there any ice in the freezer?!' cried Jem.

Ralph puled open the door to the freezer and franticaly searched through its contents. 'Got some, got some!' He turned the ice tray upside-down and bashed it hard against the work surface, ice cubes flying out in al directions, on to the floor and into the sink. They each picked one up and stuffed them into their mouths, sucking hard to extract every last drop of icy coolness.

'Oh, Jesus,' cried Ralph, 'Jesus Christ!' The flames were finaly beginning to subside but his whole body was stil in a state of sublime shock, endorphins flowing through him like some sort of wonderful drug.

'My God!' Jem was sliding the ice cube around her swolen lips.

That was unbelievable! That was like sex!'

Their heads were spinning and their pulses racing. Both of them were laughing uncontrolably at nothing.

"That was
better
than sex,' replied Ralph.

Slowly they sat down again at the table.

'So, who won?' asked Jem.

'I think we can cal that a draw!'

'Oh, no, I don't think so. Someone's got to win. Best of three!'

By the time Smith got home the flat was filed with an air of barely contained hysteria. He folowed the sound of insane laughter into the kitchen and found Ralph and Jem with their heads in the freezer.

What the hel are you two doing?' he asked, putting his briefcase down on the table amid the sea of empty lager cans, dirty plates and melting ice cubes.

They spun around guiltily, mouths ful of ice, cheeks aflame, eyes streaming.

'Chili Chalenge,' replied Ralph through his ice cube, desperately fanning his mouth, 'five each - raw ones -it's a draw.'

What! You're both fucking mad/ said Smith, shaking his head slowly. He caught Jem's eye. 'Look at you, you look like a lunatic.

You look deranged!'

Ralph didn't think Jem looked deranged, he thought she looked absolutely stunning. Her hair was down now, long black curls framing her briliant red face, glowing with heat and exhilaration as she hugged Smith. She was hugging Smith. It hurt Ralph to see how quickly she was drawn away from the special cocoon of madness they had woven for themselves tonight and into the arms of Smith, like she was a child he'd been baby-sitting al night whose beloved parent had returned. It had been him and Jem, close and totaly together, and then Smith had walked in and crushed the atmosphere like a beetle under the weight of his stupid fucking briefcase.

There'd been one brief beautiful moment when Smith had walked into the kitchen and he'd felt like Smith was the odd one out, the spare part, and Jem was his.

But now the night was over, painfuly over. Jem was clearing away the debris on the kitchen table, Smith was unknotting his tie and talking about his night with a load of Swiss bankers. It was over.

Ralph was anchored to the spot by the weight of his sadness. 'Um, I reckon I'l push off to bed then,' he murmured quietly. Thanks for a lovely evening, Jem. Thanks for the Chili Chalenge and the curry and everything — it's been briliant.'

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, just as she turned her face towards him, and caught her fuly on the lips. The unexpected sensation sent shock waves through his system, a current of excitement from his lips, down via his heart to a loop-the-loop through his stomach, and ended in a hot glow of pleasure in his groin. It was more powerful than the chilies!

"Night, then.' His body was suddenly contorted by the conflicting desires to stay and ravish Jem and to leave the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He stumbled into the bathroom and sat down hard on the covered toilet. He was shaking.

He loved her. He was totaly and utterly, stupidly and wonderfuly in love with her. Shit.

'Och aye, this is the life, is it noo?'

'Och, and so it is, Siobhan, it's a bonny wee country and that's to be sure.'

Rosanne sat in the back seat of the Embassy, her snout stuck through the smal aperture in the window, her eyes slanted closed against the bitter December wind that was blowing through her long black ears.

'Considering you're the Gaelic one, you do a crap Scottish accent, Mr Kasparov.'

'Wel,' retorted Karl, 'have you ever heard Sean Con-nery trying to do an Irish accent? Bloody dreadful!'

Siobhan and Karl had left urban Scotland behind them now, and the landscape was slowly building up momentum, growing from tentative undulations in the south to the ful-blown tidal-wave formations they were driving through now, along unending, empty roads, a wonder of nature, a spectacle of breathtaking beauty around every corner. For the last forty-five minutes, since they'd hit the Highlands, their conversation had consisted of nothing else but

'ooh's and 'aah's as the sharp Scottish light picked out shimmering threads of silvery water cascading down sheer black hils, or a tiny enchanted island artisticaly placed in the middle of a loch. The voluptuous landscape that loomed al around them was soft and womanly, carpeted in what looked from a distance like bright-green velvet, and the

late-afternoon sky touched the land below with gentle wreaths of pale-blue mist.

Neither of them had been to Scotland before, and they felt like over-excited children now, dying to see what lay around the next corner yet wanting to linger every time they encountered a view which they knew would stay in their dreams.

'I hate to say it, but this knocks spots off Ireland. I've never seen anything like it,' said Karl.

Siobhan was studying the atlas on her lap. 'One more loch and we're there,' she said, brushing her windswept hair out of her face.

That's a shame, I could keep driving for ever.' This was definitely the easiest they'd been with each other for weeks. They'd obviously needed this, a break from London, some distance from their problems. Karl wished it was just going to be the two of them for the weekend, but he liked this Rick de Largy character. He was a nice bloke, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

It was four o'clock now and the low northern sun was already starting to set.

'Should be just in time to see the sunset over the loch. Jeff said it's breathtaking.' Karl couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He took his left hand from the steering wheel and placed it around Siobhan's shoulders, giving her a little squeeze. 'Are you nervous?' he asked.

'No, wel, not realy. A tiny bit maybe.'

'Yeah, me too. It's going to be fine though, you'l
see.
And if you don't want to join in you can just say you're not feeling wel and sit and watch the view.'

Siobhan forced a laugh. Karl registered its false sound with pain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a genuine, raucous Siobhan bely-laugh. He loved

that laugh; it was a laugh which resonated throughout restaurants, which made people on buses turn and look, which would have got her kicked out of public libraries. Now it was paper-thin, so brittle it sounded as if it could turn to tears, just like that.

They drove on for a while, deep in singular thought, while the sky hung above them like a kaleidoscopic mosquito net, changing colour every second.

'Glencoe two miles: we're nearly there. Are you ready to party, girl, hmm hmm? Ready to take some class A narcotics and just be wild and crazy, hmm hmm!!'

They were looking out for a tiny turning off the main road. The trees were painted white apparently; that was the only way of identifying it.

'There - there!' Siobhan pointed to the left.

They puled off and folowed a short dirt-track to a fork. A peeling green wooden sign to the right said 'St Colombas.'

That's the place.'

The little black car bumped up the track for a while in darkness, but within a couple of minutes Siobhan and Karl were transported to Fairyland; the sides of the tiny lane were lined with bright pink and red Chinese lanterns, hooked on to the branches of diminutive cherry trees, prettily delineating the meandering route through the dark towards the chapel.

'My God, this is beautiful,' whispered Siobhan.

More was waiting for them at the head of the lane: the last dramatic red moments of the sunset reflected in the loch, the clapboard chapel lit up with fairy lights, a set of winding wooden steps from the graveyard down to the banks of the loch hung with more Chinese lanterns, shining the same warm crimson as the sinking sun, a picturesque wooden boat tied to an ancient wooden jetty bobbing blissfuly in the stil, icy water. An owl caled from one of the towering chestnut trees around the chapel clearing, and windchimes hanging from the windowframes tinkled gently in a smal gust of refreshingly clean air.

'I want to be buried here,' said Karl, his jaw hanging.

Even Rosanne was extra quiet, seemingly as enchanted as her masters by the unbelievable beauty of the place.

1 thought it was going to be realy flash but it's not, it's just beautiful.

I reckon Jeff must have been a real old hippie when he did this place up.'

They slowly unbuckled their seat-belts and colected their bags from the boot. There was already another car in front of the chapel.

'OK. Ready, Shuv?' Karl held his hand out for Siobhan.

'As I'l ever be.'

Karl rang the large copper bel hanging outside the vast wooden doors. Within seconds the door was answered.

'Karl, mate, good to see you. What a place!' Rick was barefoot, in jeans and a big jumper, and holding a glass of wine.

'Yeah, isn't it! I've never seen anything like it.' The two men shook hands.

'Rick, this is Siobhan, my girlfriend.'

'Lovely to meet you, Siobhan — Karl never stops talking about you.'

Siobhan attempted to smile, but she could barely breathe. This man was absolutely gorgeous! He was beautiful. She almost felt weak at the knees. Why did

men never tel you things like that; they never said 'Oh, by the way, so and so's realy good looking.' She wished Karl had warned her.

'Pleased to meet you, too.' Siobhan had suddenly remembered how to behave in a social situation. She smiled her most gorgeous smile and shook his hand firmly and confidently. She was
not
going to be a fat aunt in front of this angelic man, in this magical place. 'Isn't this the most beautiful place you've ever seen?' She was thin, thin and beautiful and desirable. She shook her hair round so that it framed her face.