In fact, as I emerged out of their local Underground that sunny day, my thoughts were on the possible refinements that might have been added to “my” bedroom since the previous visit. Over the years, there’s almost always been something or other. One time it was some gleaming electronic gadget standing in the corner; another time the whole place had been redecorated. In any case, almost as a point of principle, the room would be prepared for me the way a posh hotel would go about things: towels laid out, a bedside tin of biscuits, a selection of CDs on the dressing table. A few years ago, Charlie had led me in and with nonchalant pride started flicking switches, causing all sorts of subtly hidden lights to go on and off: behind the headboard, above the wardrobe and so on. Another switch had triggered a growling hum and blinds had begun to descend over the two windows.
“Look, Charlie, why do I need blinds?” I’d asked that time.
“I want to see out when I wake up. Just the curtains will do fine.”
“These blinds are Swiss,” he’d said, as though this were explanation enough.
But this time Charlie led me up the stairs mumbling to himself, and as we got to my room, I realised he was making excuses. And then I saw the room as I’d never seen it before. The bed was bare, the mattress on it mottled and askew. On the floor were piles of magazines and paperbacks, bundles of old clothes, a hockey stick and a loudspeaker fallen on its side. I paused at the threshold and stared at it while Charlie cleared a space to put down my bag.
“You look like you’re about to demand to see the manager,” he said, bitterly.
“No, no. It’s just that it’s unusual to see it this way.”
“It’s a mess, I know. A mess.” He sat down on the mattress and sighed. “I thought the cleaning girls would have sorted all this. But of course they haven’t. God knows why not.”
He seemed very dejected, but then he suddenly sprang to his feet again.
“Look, let’s go out for some lunch. I’ll leave a note for Emily. We can have a long leisurely lunch and by the time we come back, your room-the whole flat-will be sorted out.”
“But we can’t ask Emily to tidy everything.”
“Oh, she won’t do it herself. She’ll get on to the cleaners. She knows how to harass them. Me, I don’t even have their number. Lunch, let’s have lunch. Three courses, bottle of wine, everything.”
What Charlie called their flat was in fact the top two floors of a four-storey terrace in a well-to-do but busy street. We came out of the front door straight into a throng of people and traffic. I followed Charlie past shops and offices to a smart little Italian restaurant. We didn’t have a reservation, but the waiters greeted Charlie like a friend and led us to a table. Looking around I saw the place was full of business types in suits and ties, and I was glad Charlie looked as scruffy as I did. He must have guessed my thoughts, because as we sat down he said:
“Oh, you’re so home counties, Ray. Anyway, it’s all changed now. You’ve been out of the country too long.” Then in an alarmingly loud voice: “We look like the ones who’ve made it. Everyone else here looks like middle management.” Then he leant towards me and said more quietly: “Look, we’ve got to talk. I need you to do me a favour.”
I couldn’t remember the last time Charlie had asked my help for anything, but I managed a casual nod and waited. He played with his menu for a few seconds, then put it down.
“The truth is, Emily and I have been going through a bit of a sticky patch. In fact, just recently, we’ve been avoiding one another altogether. That’s why she wasn’t there just now to welcome you. Right now, I’m afraid, you get a choice of one or the other of us. A bit like those plays when the same actor’s playing two parts. You can’t get both me and Emily in the same room at the same time. Rather childish, isn’t it?”
“This is obviously a bad time for me to have come. I’ll go away, straight after lunch. I’ll stay with my Auntie Katie in Finchley.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not listening. I just told you. I want you to do me a favour.”
“I thought that was your way of saying…”
“No, you idiot, I’m the one who has to clear out. I’ve got to go to a meeting in Frankfurt, I’m flying out this afternoon. I’ll be back in two days, Thursday at the latest. Meanwhile, you stay here. You bring things round, make everything okay again. Then I come back, say a cheerful hello, kiss my darling wife like the last two months haven’t happened, and we pick up again.”
At this point the waitress came to take our order, and after she’d gone Charlie seemed reluctant to take up the subject again. Instead, he fired questions at me about my life in Spain, and each time I told him anything, good or bad, he’d do this sour little smile and shake his head, like I was confirming his worst fears. At one point I was trying to tell him how much I’d improved as a cook-how I’d prepared the Christmas buffet for over forty students and teachers virtually single-handed-but he just cut me off in mid-sentence.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Your situation’s hopeless. You’ve got to hand in your notice. But first, you have to get your new job lined up. This Portuguese depressive, use him as a go-between. Secure the Madrid post, then ditch the apartment. Okay, here’s what you do. One.”
He held up his hand and began counting off each instruction as he made it. Our food arrived when he still had a couple of fingers to go, but he ignored it and carried on till he’d finished. Then as we began to eat, he said:
“I can tell you won’t do any of this.”
“No, no, everything you say is very sound.”
“You’ll go back and carry on just the same. Then we’ll be here again in a year’s time and you’ll be moaning about exactly the same things.”
“I wasn’t moaning…”
“You know, Ray, there’s only so much other people can suggest to you. After a certain point, you’ve got to take charge of your life.”
“Okay, I will, I promise. But you were saying earlier, something about a favour.”
“Ah yes.” He chewed his food thoughtfully. “To be honest, this was my real motive in inviting you over. Of course, it’s great to see you and all of that. But for me, the main thing, I wanted you to do something for me. After all you’re my oldest friend, a life-long friend…”
Suddenly he began eating again, and I realised with astonishment he was sobbing quietly. I reached across the table and prodded his shoulder, but he just kept shovelling pasta into his mouth without looking up. When this had gone on for a minute or so, I reached over and gave him another little prod, but this had no more effect than my first one. Then the waitress appeared with a cheerful smile to check on our food. We both said everything was excellent and as she went off, Charlie seemed to become more himself again.
“Okay, Ray, listen. What I’m asking you to do is dead simple. All I want is for you to hang about with Emily for the next few days, be a pleasant guest. That’s all. Just until I get back.”
“That’s all? You’re just asking me to look after her while you’re gone?”
“That’s it. Or rather, let her look after you. You’re the guest. I’ve lined up some things for you to do. Theatre tickets and so on. I’ll be back Thursday at the latest. Your mission’s just to get her in a good mood and keep her that way. So when I come in and say, ‘Hello darling,’ and hug her, she’ll just reply, ‘Oh hello, darling, welcome home, how was everything,’ and hug me back. Then we can carry on as before. Before all this horrible stuff began. That’s your mission. Quite simple really.”
“I’m happy to do anything I can,” I said. “But look, Charlie, are you sure she’s in the mood to entertain visitors? You’re obviously going through some sort of crisis. She must be as upset as you are. Quite honestly, I don’t understand why you asked me here right now.”
“What do you mean, you don’t understand? I’ve asked you because you’re my oldest friend. Yes, all right, I’ve got a lot of friends. But when it comes down to it, when I thought hard about it, I real
ised you’re the only one who’d do.”
I have to admit I was rather moved by this. All the same, I could see there was something not quite right here, something he wasn’t telling me.
“I can understand you inviting me to stay if you were both going to be here,” I said. “I can see how that would work. You’re not talking to each other, you invite a guest as a diversion, you both put on your best behaviour, things start to thaw. But it’s not going to work in this case, because you’re not going to be here.”
“Just do it for me, Ray. I think it might work. Emily’s always cheered up by you.”
“Cheered up by me? You know, Charlie, I want to help. But it’s possible you’ve got this a bit wrong. Because I get the impression, quite frankly, Emily isn’t cheered up by me at all, even at the best of times. The last few visits here, she was… well, distinctly impatient with me.”
“Look, Ray, just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
EMILY WAS AT THE FLAT when we returned. I have to admit, I was taken aback at how much she’d aged. It wasn’t just that she’d got significantly heavier since my last visit: her face, once so effortlessly graceful, was now distinctly bull-doggy, with a displeased set to the mouth. She was sitting on the living-room sofa reading the Financial Times, and got up rather glumly as I came in.
“Nice to see you, Raymond,” she said, kissing me quickly on the cheek, then sitting down again. The whole way she did this made me want to blurt out a profuse apology for intruding at such a bad time. But before I could say anything, she thumped the space beside her on the sofa, saying: “Now, Raymond, sit down here and answer my questions. I want to know all about what you’ve been up to.”
I sat down and she began to interrogate me, much as Charlie had done in the restaurant. Charlie, meanwhile, was packing for his journey, drifting in and out of the room in search of various items. I noticed they didn’t look at each other, but neither did they seem so uncomfortable being in the same room, despite what he’d claimed. And although they never spoke directly to each other, Charlie kept joining in the conversation in an odd, once-removed manner. For instance, when I was explaining to Emily why it was so difficult to find a flat-mate to share my rent burden, Charlie shouted from the kitchen:
“The place he’s in, it’s just not geared up for two people! It’s for one person, and one person with a bit more money than he’ll ever have!”
Emily made no response to this, but must have absorbed the information, because she then went on: “Raymond, you should never have chosen an apartment like that.”
This sort of thing continued for at least the next twenty minutes, Charlie making his contributions from the stairs or as he passed through to the kitchen, usually by shouting out some statement that referred to me in the third person. At one point, Emily suddenly said:
“Oh, honestly Raymond. You let yourself be exploited left, right and centre by that ghastly language school, you let your landlord rip you off silly, and what do you do? Get in tow with some airhead girl with a drink problem and not even a job to support it. It’s like you’re deliberately trying to annoy anyone who still gives a shit about you!”
“He can’t expect many of that tribe to survive!” Charlie boomed from the hall. I could hear he had his suitcase out there now. “It’s all very well behaving like an adolescent ten years after you’ve ceased to be one. But to carry on like this when you’re nearly fifty!”
“I’m only forty-seven…”
“What do you mean, you’re only forty-seven?” Emily’s voice was unnecessarily loud given I was sitting right next to her. “Only forty-seven. This ‘only,’ this is what’s destroying your life, Raymond. Only, only, only. Only doing my best. Only forty-seven. Soon you’ll be only sixty-seven and only going round in bloody circles trying to find a bloody roof to keep over your head!”
“He needs to get his bloody arse together!” Charlie yelled down the staircase. “Fucking well pull his socks up till they’re touching his fucking balls!”
“Raymond, don’t you ever stop and ask yourself who you are?” Emily asked. “When you think of all your potential, aren’t you ashamed? Look at how you lead your life! It’s… it’s simply infuriating! One gets so exasperated!”
Charlie appeared in the doorway in his raincoat, and for a moment they were shouting different things at me simultaneously. Then Charlie broke off, announced he was leaving-as though in disgust at me-and vanished.
His departure brought Emily’s diatribe to a halt, and I took the opportunity to get to my feet, saying: “Excuse me, I’ll just go and give Charlie a hand with his luggage.”
“Why do I need help with my luggage?” Charlie said from the hall. “I’ve only got the one bag.”
But he let me follow him down into the street and left me with the suitcase while he went to the edge of the kerb to hail a cab. There didn’t seem to be any to hand, and he leaned out worriedly, an arm half-raised.
I went up to him and said: “Charlie, I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“What’s not going to work?”
“Emily absolutely hates me. That’s her after seeing me for a few minutes. What’s she going to be like after three days? Why on earth do you think you’ll come back to harmony and light?”
Even as I was saying this, something was dawning on me and I fell silent. Noticing the change, Charlie turned and looked at me carefully.
“I think,” I said, eventually, “I have an idea why it had to be me and no one else.”
“Ah ha. Can it be Ray sees the light?”
“Yes, maybe I do.”
“But what does it matter? It remains the same, exactly the same, what I’m asking you to do.” Now there were tears in his eyes again. “Do you remember, Ray, the way Emily always used to say she believed in me? She said it for years and years. I believe in you, Charlie, you can go all the way, you’re really talented. Right up until three, four years ago, she was still saying it. Do you know how trying that got? I was doing all right. I am doing all right. Perfectly okay. But she thought I was destined for… God knows, president of the fucking world, God knows! I’m just an ordinary bloke who’s doing all right. But she doesn’t see that. That’s at the heart of it, at the heart of everything that’s gone wrong.”
He began to walk slowly along the pavement, very preoccupied. I hurried back to get his suitcase and began pulling it along on its rollers. The street was still fairly crowded, so it was a struggle to keep up with him without crashing the bag into other pedestrians. But Charlie kept walking at a steady pace, oblivious to my difficulties.
“She thinks I’ve let myself down,” he was saying. “But I haven’t. I’m doing perfectly okay. Endless horizons are all very well when you’re young. But get to our age, you’ve got to… you’ve got to get some perspective. That’s what kept going round in my head whenever she got unbearable about it. Perspective, she needs perspective. And I kept saying to myself, look, I’m doing okay. Look at loads of other people, people we know. Look at Ray. Look what a pig’s arse he’s making of his life. She needs perspective.”
“So you decided to invite me for a visit. To be Mr. Perspective.”
At last, Charlie stopped and met my eye. “Don’t get me wrong, Ray. I’m not saying you’re an awful failure or anything. I realise you’re not a drug addict or a murderer. But beside me, let’s face it, you don’t look the highest of achievers. That’s why I’m asking you, asking you to do this for me. Things are on their last legs with us, I’m desperate, I need you to help. And what am I asking, for God’s sake? Just that you be your usual sweet self. Nothing more, nothing less. Just do it for me, Raymond. For me and Emily. It’s not over between us yet, I know it isn’t. Just be yourself for a few days until I get back. That’s not so much to ask, is it?”
I took a deep breath and said: “Okay, okay, if you think it’ll help. But isn’t Emily going to see through all this sooner or later?”
“Why should she? She knows I’ve got an important m
eeting in Frankfurt. To her the whole thing’s straightforward. She’s just looking after a guest, that’s all. She likes to do that and she likes you. Look, a taxi.” He waved frantically and as the driver came towards us, he grasped my arm. “Thanks, Ray. You’ll swing it for us, I know you will.”
I RETURNED TO FIND Emily’s manner had undergone a complete transformation. She welcomed me into the apartment the way she might a very aged and frail relative. There were encouraging smiles, gentle touches on the arm. When I agreed to some tea, she led me into the kitchen, sat me down at the table, then for a few seconds stood there regarding me with a concerned expression. Eventually she said, softly:
“I’m so sorry I went on at you like that earlier, Raymond. I’ve got no right to talk to you like that.” Then turning away to make the tea, she went on: “It’s years now since we were at university together. I always forget that. I’d never dream of talking to any other friend that way. But when it’s you, well, I suppose I look at you and it’s like we’re back there, the way we all were then, and I just forget. You really mustn’t take it to heart.”
“No, no. I haven’t taken it to heart at all.” I was still thinking about the conversation I’d just had with Charlie, and probably seemed distant. I think Emily misinterpreted this, because her voice became even more gentle.
“I’m so sorry I upset you.” She was carefully laying out rows of biscuits on a plate in front of me. “The thing is, Raymond, back in those days, we could say virtually anything to you, you’d just laugh and we’d laugh, and everything would be a big joke. It’s so silly of me, thinking you could still be like that.”
“Well, actually, I am more or less still like that. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“I didn’t realise,” she went on, apparently not hearing me, “how different you are now. How close to the edge you must be.”