Always Read the Label Chapter 22 Having a Bubble Bath

I've achieved celebrity status and have finally arrived. At least in my mum's front room where before, after and possibly during Christmas dinner we had to watch, with me pretending to enjoy, my drunken performance that had been devotedly recorded on the video recorder. Everyone who came to visit over Christmas was forced to watch it. I swore to steal it before I went but find myself travelling back empty handed with it still lodged in the machine ready for the next viewing by a captive audience.

The train's packed with presents in all shapes and sizes plus people overstuffed from Christmas but still trying to cram some more in, by the smell of it turkey muffins. I lean awkwardly against the window while the scenery reminds me that England has remained a green and pleasant land while I haven't been looking. Until you get past Milton Keynes where it all goes downhill and more and more vertical, culminating in the looming towers of Somerstown as we crawl into Euston. By the time I get off the train I'm also carrying a depressing mood onto the tube which is packed with clumsily hauled big bags.

Chalk Farm soon arrives and after a short walk I'm climbing the concrete steps half a flight behind a couple of wideboys loudly slurring their love for Camden Palace while having to hold on to the banister they're weaving about so much as they head temporarily out of view. I turn towards the walkway and kick something they must have dropped with my feet. I'm gonna shout out and hand it back when I realise it's a roll of money and quickly kick it through the door frame instead. Giving it another boot rolls it nearer our door which I open and put my bag in before reaching back out to grab the money. I shut the door quietly and see it's a wad of crumpled notes, mainly fivers and tenners and a bit damp. There's £255 which is a bit unexpected. That's me sorted till the new year then.

The triumph lasts until I walk into the mayhem of the front room. Among the plates, cups, glasses and smells, Johnnie's sprawled motionless in the gap between the sofa and TV. I go cold with the thought he might be dead and have to find the nerve to go and touch him, covering my hand with my sleeve like some cheap TV detective before I shake him. I decide he's not dead just pale, so shake him more abruptly when I realise how scared I was. There's a moan, a flicker of his eyes but no chance of him moving, which I know mean he's been up for days. It's useless even trying to get him to move, he's shutdown. I go and unpack, put the kettle on and open two letters which look like late Christmas cards. One's from Emma and not quite the same as the one at home featuring Anna. But it gets me thinking about the possibilities and I go to look for my phone book.

The tea's nearly cold when I manage to get Johnnie to sit up and take a sip. A few more slurps and he manages to make eye contact, say 'Happy Christmas' and ask how I am. I tell him it's the 28th, the day after Boxing Day, which seems to set a little alarm off somewhere in his memory.
"Love Ranch. I'm on the guest-list. Do you wanna come?"
I've just invited Emma round but don't tell him, though it's a godsend he'll be out, so I say no and start to move some of the junk off the floor which just reveals fresh stains.
"Bruce has moved out, so we've got a spare room if you know anyone".
I bumped into Tommo who we both know while I was home and tell him he might be looking for somewhere. Don't know what I was expecting but mention of his name brings the inevitable sneer.
"What's he doing down here?"
I'd asked him the same question when I saw him. Apparently he's at a college just round the corner in Kentish Town. I tell Johnnie this to the accompaniment of another sneer which disappears when I ask if he paid off the debt he was so worried about with the money I lent him. I can tell by the pause before the yes that he hasn't, though he stumbles through pretending it's all been sorted which I in turn pretend to believe then ask if he wants something to eat. The fridge has a carton of milk in its stomach so we set off to Mario's Cafe round the corner.

I've no idea why or how, but Mario's has become a bit of a trendy hang out for the beautiful people in bands. It's just a regular cafe, but with Mario playing all the latest music while his mother and grandmother cook up the usual greasy spoon and Italian dishes. I'm sure someone will write a song about it one day. But perhaps not after todays food which is just stodge, even if it is accompanied by some nice soothing music. I unwrap some notes from the recently acquired roll to pay before we head to the Fiddlers Elbow for a pint.

In that fading part of a winter's day where you're waiting for the darkness to hurry and say it's OK to sit in a pub for the rest of the night, we both start to come alive. It's warm and friendly with all worries and doubts left at the door by the rowdy regulars. For the first time it feels like Christmas, no family and no need for best behaviour. It's just gone eight when we head back to the flat via the off-licence, where they ask again if we've seen Mick the landlord lately.

On the first floor staircase two figures are wandering about with their heads bowed to the floor. Johnnie says alright to one of them and when he doesn't look up from the floor asks what he's looking for.
"Just dropped something mate, having a look to see if I can find it".
I need to get away from here, paranoid they'll spot the roll in my pocket, so walk through onto the walkway past the other guy as he studies the floor as closely as the dull lights allow. I relax when we close the door with them both still shuffling about outside.

As I'm taking my coat off there's a knock on the door and I decide to chuck the money down the side of the fridge. I'm almost relieved when the door reveals not one of the searchers, but a face I don't know asking for Johnnie before saying:
"What on earth are those two muppets doing on your apples?"
As I'm shrugging in an unconvincing attempt to look unconcerned, Johnnie pops his head over my shoulder and welcomes Baz.
"They don't half seem keen to find something they've mislaid. They're going a bit radio rental trying. I've seen one those fellas before around Queens Crescent. Oh go on then, two sugars".

I've never seen Johnnie move so quickly to fill a kettle after he's done the introductions and made sure Baz is comfortable. I'm expecting him to step back through wearing a pinny and carrying a tray of biscuits. Continuing his cheeky chappy banter which soon makes it blindingly clear he's local and knows what goes on around here, Baz is like a bubbling stream of conscience, obviously aided by something from one of the bags he's placed on the table next to the tea he hasn't touched.

"Right here's the Bobby. I've got 75 Jack and Jill's and just short of two ounces of Billy we can bang out tonight. The Billy goes for a cockle a gram and the Jacks for 15 each. I've had a word with my friend on the door and it's sorted if we bung him and his mate a bullseye each. We split what's left after paying Marcus for fronting us the stuff and Bob's your uncle".

I'm still trying to translate what's been said when Baz dips the edge of a credit card into the speed and pushes it under my nose. It seems rude not too. The banter resumes over the noise of me trying to clear my nose and throat.

"Whose drum is this then?"
It seems a real effort to try to remember so I'm relieved when Johnnie says it's someone called Mick. Last name Reed or Reeves.
"Mick Reed. I know Mick, he's a local lad, a right jack the lad. Very forgetful. Got himself involved in some caper where they're bringing diamonds back from Holland, forgetting to pay the VAT. Taxman was looking to remind him. Had to move away for a while when he forgot to a few other local debts. Liked to have parties without paying for the booze he got on credit. I'm sure I've been to one in here. This gaff doesn't half look familiar".

He concentrates on counting out the pills like a kid with a tube of smarties before carrying on.
"That Russell. You know him? He was down the old club selling on his moody little pills bold as a brass the other night. He's having a bubble bath at our expense. No, no, no I said. This is our patch. You musn't be naughty without our say so. We had to relieve him of his wares when he started acting mutton to our polite requests to refrain. He got a bit too leery. You want another nose up? Very clean innit? You got any comics we can use to wrap the billy? Oh that Rosy's cold. Did you have some comics? Fancy testing one of these Jacks?"

The poetry coming out of Baz's mouth has me hypnotised. I'm pinned down and tingling, wanting to join in, but can't find a gap where I can make words fit. It's like your favourite show on TV, you want to catch every single word and not look at the clock so it might go on forever. An old magazine gets transformed by origami into neat little envelopes which all receive a carefully measured bit of powder off what looks like a calculator produced from Baz's pocket.

"I always stick with 0.9 for a measure. To all intents and purposes it's a gram and the punters won't know any different when they see the bulge in the pack and get all greedy. Before they can even think of checking half of it's up their nose. It's a a bit harder to weigh up there, unless you know how much your brain weighs beforehand. That the lot? Best get moving then. I've got my jam tonight so lets skedaddle. Baked potato".

I'm still wondering if I should put the oven on when I hear the door close and they've gone.

I can't sit still and find myself cleaning up mess I'd never bothered to notice before; wiping down worktops and trying to scrub at the marks inside cups I've taken out of the cupboard. I'm just about to try to find some polish for the cutlery when I jump at a knock at the door, dropping a few forks into the sink. I have no idea who it might be but a real urge to find out.

It must have come across that I was startled and disappointed to find Emma there, as she asks if I'd forgotten she was coming, which I manage to bat away as a daft suggestion. As she walks in I gawp at the tightly fastened long coat she's got on with a pair of black stockings and high heels peeping out of the bottom. After asking if anyone else is in, she opens the coat and lets it drop to the floor, asking if I want my Christmas present now. She must have been freezing on her way here.