Always Read the Label Chapter 12 After Show Party

It's liberating getting in a car after relying on coaches, trains, tubes and buses for so long. Not much quicker than public transport as there's still plenty of traffic about, but the stops are less frequent and you control them. Until Beeb spots an off-licence as we head up the hill after Kings Cross. Emma has to climb out to let us all get through from the back. Into the lights we go where me and Simon buy cheap cans of lager while Beeb gets a bottle of vodka, cartons of orange and some cigarettes. We all squeeze back into the car with the bags placed by our feet and head on towards Upper Street for the Highbury Corner roundabout. After the roundabout the houses are quite nice, but then start to get a little more shabby and the roads feel like they're closing in a little. I'm obviously not the only one who notices as Emma reaches to her side to press down the lock on the door, a move Polly copies. As we head through Dalston I realise they don't usually head to these parts often and expect them to start panicking as we reach Hackney proper, but Polly brightens up when she remembers that she went to a Rock Against Racism gig that The Clash played in Victoria Park which 'is round here somewhere'. I explain it's right next to where we're heading and she's insistent that we go into the park as soon as we get there.

She's no intention of dropping this idea so we park up among the surprisingly flash cars and head in the direction of the pitch black park complete with our thin-striped plastic bags of booze which we've taken a few cans from. There's a small deterring fence to climb, where I hang back to help Emma over. She turns to me as her feet reach the ground and I'm still steadying her as she leans in to kiss me, remaining close while she whispers 'I've been wanting to do that all night'. Even in the dark my smile must shine through to tell her I'm glad that she did. We hold hands till we catch up with the others, guided by Polly's voice saying 'I think the stage was over here'.

The only light in the park comes every time a car turns onto the road at its side and headlights spill through the trees. It's a huge park and I'm sure we'll be looking all night for where the gig was. There's a sunken rose garden that we head into and in the shadows can see someone sat on the stone benches that run round the edge. It jolts us to a halt, bringing into focus a tramp with a smudged face you can just make out in the gloom, who looks huge with all the layers of clothes he's wearing. Somehow he's sewing the jacket that he has in his hand. He must have seen us, but doesn't look up, like he's deaf rather than hasn't noticed; totally tuned out from the surrounding world. We have to walk past him to carry on and Beeb says hello as he passes. He still doesn't look up just growls with menace 'this is my home'. We move on and out into the main park quickly, hearing a shuffling noise as the tramp rises to shout 'how dare you enter my house'.

This gets us jogging away in fear, spooking us sufficiently to give up looking for where the gig was. We head a little deeper into the park before moving towards the better lit edges and head back to where we came in, avoiding the rose garden bit. Simon uses the lingering fear to put his arm round Polly, supposedly to offer comfort, but really working towards how he hopes the night will eventually end. Another nail in the coffin for Helen, the 'solid girlfriend back home' he's 'been seeing for years'. We climb back over the fence and walk towards the unwelcoming lights of the block's entrance. Even after this weird encounter I can see Polly would have preferred to stay in the park rather than get in the lift she sees in front of her when it finally arrives. I think she'd prefer to be just about anywhere else when the door opens at our floor to reveal the modern art of our newly painted door and the puddled paint we'd not yet got round to wiping up, stuck to the floor. Beeb seemed oblivious to it all and simply asks if we have enough glasses. I shut the door when we're all in and turn to see Emma still stood there after the others headed to the front room. It's a longer kiss this time, swapping the thrill of intent between us.

Beeb quickly found out we don't have enough glasses, having to use two of our three tea cups to hold the way-too-strong Vodka and oranges he makes. It's weird when you sit in a room without a TV – everyone keeps sneaking a disbelieving look to where it should be, like they're expecting it to suddenly appear. Simon must have noticed this too cos he gets up to bring his stereo and some tapes. Polly seems to know everything he plays and eventually let slip that she works for a music company Press Office. I see Simon's eyes spin like a record at the thought of freebies and he soon moves to a seat next to Polly. Beeb was interested in the music, but just as interested in the Vodka which he was gulping.

'When he died on Boxing Day he was found in a bush, early in the morning, halfway between the pub and home. He'd been there a while and was pretty frozen so they couldn't tell when the rigor mortis had set in. So exactly when he died will always be a mystery'.

A growing emotion starts to creep into the story that the now completely pissed Beeb has just started to hurl out above the music.

'He was only 20 years older than me and seemed to be happy with the new family he'd made, trying his hardest to still include my sister and me. There were no other kids so we got all the insurance money. It was the one thing he'd actually done right financially, that policy. It feels wrong though. That's why I'm trying to spend it all as fast as possible. It feels dirty. Not right to have it. Almost a burden. My sister's used her share to buy a house, but I'm fucked if I want anything permanent from it. 

As if to illustrate this he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gobstopper of hash, wiping his eyes before he sticks some papers together and bites off a chunk.

'I reckon he would appreciate me using it like this, he liked a drink too. I just wish I could have had a last one with him though. I just wanted one last chance to make it all fit back together. The money's always been there, used to cover all sorts of wounds. I told my parents I was a heroin addict when they were splitting up. To see if it would glue them back together. It didn't, I got a few more days of life as I'd been used to, then just got handed some cash, a there there and told to be a soldier'.
 
And so we were told the reasons behind Beeb's lifestyle and where he's inherited it from, genetically and financially. He seemed emotional from a dizzying mix of drink, memories and regret. No room left for hope. As quickly as the emotion had swooped in though, it left him.
 
'I love this song. Polly do you do any work for this band? Saw them a while back. Loved the last single. Does anyone fancy another Vodka? Or there's beer?
 
There was an unspoken obligation to keep him company so we all joined in with the drinks and kept him chatting. Polly took centre stage telling us all about her dream of moving to California, from leaving on a jet plane to living what she described as the perfect life. Beeb lasted about another hour before his squinting eyes stayed shut. I asked Emma if she'd help me find some covers from him, which brought an unneeded giggle from Simon and Polly. It wasn't too hard to find the only spare blanket we had, but Emma stayed in the bedroom when we did. I threw it over Beeb to another giggle, then returned and closed the door so there were just two of us...