to see so far, and I tried to grab Michael’s arm for comfort, but he was busy re-lighting his large-ish not-a-cigarette. After a minute he offered it to me, glancing out of the window.
‘So there you have it. That’s all there is.’
I couldn’t focus too well but I stared down at the craggy slopes of Pleinmont. It didn’t feel as vast or impressive as I thought it would, and there was a bank of fog rolling in off the empty sea. I suddenly understood what Michael had meant. Everything was too small. I looked back at him and tried to pout like Nic, but it was difficult because I’d singed my lips on one of Jason’s B&H. Michael’s smoke blew in my face and I vaguely wanted to kiss it.
‘You know,’ Michael gazed out at the view, ‘when you get up high like this you’re not really afraid of falling – you’re more afraid of wanting to jump. There’s a pull.’
I asked if he meant gravity, which we’d learned about in Second Form, but he shook his head.
‘Nah, this is different. It’s psychological, not physical, more the brain than the body. There’s this town in Europe, it has even less taxes than here,26 and it’s built in a valley, and there’s this road around it with lots of bridges, and people are always jumping off the bridges and killing themselves.’
I told Michael how Dad had always liked to dive off the top steps of the Moorings, even though it was dangerous. Michael said diving was a lot like falling, and that falling was like being free.
‘I want some of that, me. I’m going to travel the world.’
‘To anywhere in particular?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe Australia. Mum’s got a brother there she’s not seen for years.’
I wanted to tell him I’d be going there, too, one day, but before I could he’d turned and walked casually over to the other side of the tower. (He didn’t hold on to the wall or anything!)
I’d drunk quite a lot earlier but that little walk sobered me up no end. When I caught up with him by the window facing the car park he put an arm around me, which made it all worthwhile. Then I realised he was trying to help me out of it. I looked at him like he was nuts.
‘It’s easy,’ he said, ‘turn around and push your head out and then sit on the ledge like this.’ He demonstrated the manoeuvre.
‘Not a chance,’ I told his thigh.
I’m glad to say he slid back in.
I stared down to the car park, where Jason’s and Pete’s cars were parked side-by-side. I cupped my hands around my mouth and called Nic’s name, to see if she could hear me.
‘You want to get her attention?’ Michael bent away from me and rummaged in his jacket. ‘I know a way.’
He’d pulled out another can of what I thought was spray paint, only this one had something sticking out of it. He flicked his cigarette lighter and I saw a little flame.
‘And here’s one I made earlier,’ he held it up to show me.
Before I could say anything he’d stuck his head out of the window and lobbed it through the air. It flew in an arc and went bouncing off some rocks down below, and exploded with a crack and smoke. I looked at Michael, he was laughing, then he shouted ‘You-fucking-loser!’ so loudly I was scared. Jason had got out of his car and was shouting back. Michael nodded to me like I should scream, too. That’s when I noticed his T-shirt: it was black with white letters that read ‘NEW ORDER’. Most people think this is the name of a pop group, but as far as I know Hitler only liked opera. Anyway, in that moment, for whatever reason, I took those two little words as a sign to do exactly what Michael said. I screamed and swore my head off.
Then Michael took my bottle of Unlabelled Sinister Import and threw it out the window as well. It smashed on some rocks into lots of little pieces. I felt dizzy and ducked back inside. Then I heard car engines start.
‘That’s shown them, eh?’
I looked across at Michael and his eyes glittered darkly.
‘What were we trying to show them?’
He frowned like he was irritated by my (perfectly reasonable) question. ‘Does it fucking matter?’
I was sitting down but I still felt like I was falling. I thought about Nic and Pete and Pagey and