Hold Back the Night Read online

  * * *

  It looked like a scene from the fall of Saigon. A huge crowd of people was queuing impatiently, six abreast, at a steel mesh security fence, many of them holding slips of paper like visa applications or letters of transit. Other people were arriving constantly, some pushing in with friends in the crowd, others joining on hopefully at the back. Behind the fence was a courtyard, policed by menacing dark shapes with headpieces, and behind them was an enormous old grain warehouse. Behind that I couldn’t help imagining waves of helicopters taking off, crammed with desperate people, holding out their hands to those still left on the tarmac, screaming in pain and despair.

  It was in fact one of the biggest clubs in Europe, and the people outside weren’t trying to leave for America, although you could argue that most of them were there for some kind of escape. They looked eager enough as they shuffled forward slowly, eager but compliant.

  I’d pulled the car onto a broad pavement across the street from the place. I killed the engine, and the uncertain groan of the Mazda was immediately replaced by a steady, upbeat hum. I got out and locked the door. Checking out the scene in front of me, I tied my fleece round my waist and slung my camera over my shoulder, before crossing the road towards the building where I expected to spend the next four hours or so. I looked at my watch; twenty minutes to midnight.

  In contrast to the buzz in front of me, the night was still as a painting, a landscape of sombre, lumpen buildings drowned in shadow, topped by a sky that was the last gasp shade of a velvety, electric blue. The main horde of people was to the left. I walked right, straight to the front of what I assumed to be the guest list queue. I stopped for a second to take a laminated card out of my wallet, which Carl had run off for me a year or so ago. Then I stepped forward, maintaining a bored, slightly pissed-off expression.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, to a monosyllabic tower of junk food and steroids. ‘William Rucker. I called earlier.’

  The card was taken from me by a giant gnarled hand, one of the knuckles badly off-centre. It was inspected, then checked off against a long list held by a very stunning girl just inside the fence. As I waited I could feel the looks of the other people, standing hopefully in both of the queues behind me; respect, surprisingly, more than animosity. The card was given back to me with a nod that didn’t meet my eye, a nod that showed me that I was who my card said I was; a staff photographer with a leading London fashion magazine. I was handed a small green ticket. The man grunted and pushed the gate, before pointing me past him.

  Once in the courtyard I stood in a much smaller queue, waiting to be given the final clearance. I moved forward, listening to a group of four girls in front of me deciding where they’d meet if they got split up. Just then, a voice behind me took my attention, raised above the general hubbub. I looked round to see a balding, middle-aged man at the front of the original queue, arguing with the Man, who didn’t say anything but just shook his head, and brushed the man aside. Under the glare of the security light it was easy to make out the man’s features, and I recognized him. His name escaped me but I did know that he used to be a policeman, but was now working in the private sector; for Sirius Investigations. I just managed to restrain myself from giving the guy a wave. Then I lifted my hands in the air while my pockets were turned out and the insides of my shoes inspected. When the bouncer’s finger slid round to my instep I squirmed a little because it tickled.

  * * *

  Wherever you went the music was loud, so loud it seemed like a physical thing, not emanating from the banks of speakers but coming from inside of you, trying to get out. The only times it seemed to ebb were in the narrow passageways between the pulsating rooms, like empty spaces on the radio dial, crossroads of sound. And then you would be in a different space, equally full of people, assaulted by the bass line like a straight right to the solar plexus. The sheer scale, the weight of the music, was like an immovable force, an insistent and powerful entity screaming for obeisance. And all around me it got it, from lean, sweat-shimmering teenagers, all having their own individual communion with the beast. I pushed my way through the noise, which made the air seem thick as syrup, and past a thousand baby-wide eyes dancing in their own space, as though everyone had plugged their own headphones into a giant super-Walkman. The whole place was like a huge, fleshy, madly pumping heart. I kept moving, because whenever I stood still for more than a minute someone came up and tried to buy drugs off me.

  I thought I saw Lucy. Tight blonde plaits, teeth, a taut, slim arm. I tried to reach her through the swell but she vanished like a drowning girl, one minute there, one minute lost amongst the waves and breakers. I was kept from her by Donna, or Natalie, an ecstatic girl grabbing my arm, shouting at me that her breakfast had been lovely and why wasn’t I dancing? I looked down and back and then there was no Lucy. I said wait there. Still no Lucy and then no Natalie either when I’d returned to where I was. Or had I returned, was this the place? It wasn’t easy to tell, the space shifted and moved, there weren’t any landmarks except at the edges. Just the roar, and elbows, and backs, shirts tied round waists, and armpits, hands, hairless chests, water bottles in back pockets, and armband tattoos, the backs of necks, of heads, eyes cast beyond me, upwards, at what? Donna had gone under too. I needed some air. I made my way to the exit. I saw a boy with a floppy bowl haircut dancing with some girls. His face was bruised and I was going to ask him how it happened when I was twisted round again and then again and then he too disappeared.

  * * *

  I was outside, at the back of the building, in a well-lit cobbled area overlooking the canal. There was a canopy at the far end to my left, and a London bus halfway along, painted white. A couple of hundred people were milling around, or leaning against pillars, talking, taking a breather. No helicopters. I took a breath, suddenly disoriented by an emptiness, the lack of reverberations in my head. I put my fleece on but realized that the night was still warm. It was just the contrast with the heat from inside.

  It felt good to be in the open air. I walked past the white bus and then stood leaning against a rail with my back to the inked-out water. I had my camera ready. The people coming in and out of the bus were better dressed than the majority, most with an air about them, so I figured it was a VIP thing. All around me, people were keeping tabs on the bus and pretending not to. I could see faces on the top deck, peering out. I saw two girls come out, arm in arm, obviously models. They turned to smile at someone going in, someone I thought I recognized. One of Luke’s old friends? No. It was the guy from Take That, the one you don’t hear from very much any more, the one who probably has daydreams about lynching Robbie Williams. I couldn’t think of his name. I wondered how much longer he’d be getting into VIP lounges at clubs without having to tell people who he was.

  A couple of people began to notice my camera, so I moved into the shadow of the canopy. I didn’t want to be mistaken for paparazzi, and get beaten up by a pop star looking for a spread in the Sundays. From where I was standing I had a good view of each of the doors that led out from the three main rooms inside the club. Each time a door was pushed open I got a snatch of high velocity techno, or jungle, or drum and bass. When two doors were opened at once the sounds competed like angry witches screaming obscenities at each other.

  As I waited, I couldn’t help being impressed, by both the scale of the venue and the number of people willing to let themselves be herded and corralled, with only a fifty-fifty chance of getting in. I remembered what I used to do on a Friday night when I was seventeen, and the contrast made me laugh. I looked around at the people milling past me, some of them laughing, some talking, at least half of them happily whacked or on the way. The full-on bank lighting outside made everyone seem as separate and unreal as the memories of myself at that age were.

  The courtyard got a lot busier, as the club inside filled up with people paying to get in round the other side of the building. I stayed where I was, figuring that everyone must want to come outside at some point. I was right.
The boy came out. He walked past me, got a drink from the bar on my right and then stood by the stairs he’d walked down. I saw him chat to various people, mostly girls. Once or twice I thought I saw him passing over small packages but I never saw him take any money. I saw Donna-Natalie come out, walking carefully down the steps on her own, holding on to the rail. She was moving past the boy when, just as he had on the bridge, he held out his hand to stop her. They started talking but I was much too far away to hear what they were saying. I suddenly felt worried for her, but I didn’t know why. I looked away. My eyes flitted between the three doors, looking for Lucy, but I didn’t see her come out of any of them.

  It was only by chance that I did see her.

  She walked straight out of the London bus.

  I only saw her for a second, not long enough to get a shot of her. She was moving quickly. Almost immediately she was obscured by a group of gel-headed lads in Ben Shermans. She pushed through them and I got a shot of her back as she turned towards the stairs that I had walked down, where the boy was still standing. I still hadn’t seen her properly but I was certain it was her. I didn’t move. I was hoping she’d stop, to talk to the boy, giving me time to focus, but she didn’t; the boy just turned when he saw her walk past him, and followed her. Donna followed too. I pushed myself off the railings. I walked towards the door, but not too quickly. I had to be a little careful; I had no reason to believe that Lucy knew who I was, but either Donna or the boy might remember me, and get suspicious. I got to the bottom step just as Lucy was at the top, pushing the door open with her arm and the side of her leg. I skipped up the stairs but had to step back when a big crowd of people gushed out through the door towards me.

  When I got into the main room I couldn’t see her. I made my way to the side, and perched on the stairs that led up to the DJ booth. A guy at the top of the stairs gave me a look but I ignored him. Above the heads of the clubbers I could see both doors. Lucy hadn’t given me the impression that she had come there to dance. I saw a blonde girl and another girl forcing eddies into the crowd as they made their way towards the tunnel that led to the next room. I followed, eventually getting to the tunnel myself. The next room was the chill-out room, and it was small enough to see that she wasn’t in there.

  I went through the chill-out room, and down some steps. I was in the bar, a huge space like a students union. She wasn’t in there either. I had a quick look in the long toilet queue and then walked up from the bar to the main entrance. I walked out into the courtyard, and looked towards the gate I’d come in.

  There was no one in the courtyard now except for a couple of barmen smoking fags and a guy loading steel record cases into the back of a car. The queue had vanished as though I’d dreamt it, but the security still stood on the gate. I didn’t know what to do, whether to go back in or take a look out on the street.

  It was a risk because they weren’t letting anyone back in now, but I strode over towards the three men on the door. I said a quick goodnight and the gate was held open for me. I didn’t bother asking if a couple of girls had just walked out of there. It would have made them think I was Bill, and who knows when I’d have to go back there searching for someone else? Once in the road, I looked past the cab guy and the drivers hovering. I looked in both directions. Through the sparse crowd I saw two girls and the boy about fifty yards up on the right, crossing the road to the far side. I ignored the cab man’s question, and walked the way the three were going.

  The girls in front of me both wore minis, Lucy in elbow-length gloves. Reaching round behind me I made sure that my camera was wound on. I don’t have an electric because they make too much noise and I don’t like them anyway. I did want to be ready though, for when Lucy hit a patch of light. At the moment she was in shadow, and facing the wrong way. I thought about walking up ahead of her, and waiting, but decided to stay behind her for now.

  Once the three had reached the other side of the road I crossed over too and kept pace with them. Three long shadows pointed back towards me on the broad pavement and then curved away, before shifting round again. I saw Lucy link arms with Donna-Natalie. Then, after no more than fifty yards, all three veered to the right of the pavement and stopped. I came to a halt too, moving towards the wall on my left, turning to the side, pretending to search my pockets for a cigarette.

  Lucy stood fishing in her bag. Her two friends were a step back from her. Lucy was standing next to a car, but I couldn’t see the make. She pulled out some keys. I pushed myself off the wall. As naturally as I could I turned round and headed back the way I’d come, back towards the club. I heard a car door being opened behind me, and then another, and then I heard them slam. I sped up a little, reaching into my pocket for my car keys.

  When I got level with the Mazda I stopped and unlocked the passenger door. I took a look back up the street and the pavement was empty. I listened for a second and heard a motor starting up, nothing more than a 1.5, a small car, fairly new. I opened up the door of the Mazda and slid across the seat. Hurriedly I got the key in the ignition, and gave it a turn. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear the sound of another engine kicking into life, another small engine. Very old. There was nothing. Only a click, not even a shudder, or that wheezing sound that says patience, we’ll get there. I tried again. Nothing.

  I gave a small sigh.

  I didn’t bother having another go. Instead I slid back across the seat and out onto the pavement. I locked the door quickly and crossed the road again, looking to my left. I saw a small car pull out from the row and head slowly up the street towards Camden. I couldn’t believe it. No, please, not again. I looked back across to the entrance to the club, held open now to the first trickle of people starting to leave.

  ‘You wanna cab?’

  He’d stepped out into the road towards me, out from the throng of waiting drivers. He was a tall, loose-limbed Jamaican with shoulder-length dreads and a pale orange shirt with lots of growing room. His face was thin as a fox’s and his smile was full of gold.

  ‘You wanna taxi, my friend?’

  I looked past him towards the cab man, holding a clipboard and ticking off cars as they left. Down the street, the only car on the road was stopped at a red light. If I was quick … just maybe. The cab man was pointing a young couple towards a Mondeo, and two groups of four were just coming out through the gate towards him. I wondered what to do. This guy would have been quicker, but I didn’t want to get in a car with him only to be told to get out again because it was not the guy’s turn. The cab man was in charge, and in a place like that a fly driver wouldn’t stand a chance.

  ‘It’s OK, my friend, I’m up next. Where you wanna go?’

  He stepped backwards against an old Renault 18. He opened the back door for me and waved at the man, who didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. I walked towards him.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Clerkenwell.’

  ‘Six pounds.’

  ‘But I’ll need to stop off first. Some friends of mine are having a party but I don’t know the address. They’re in that car.’

  Up ahead the car was moving off through the lights. It was an Escort. I jumped in the back of the Renault, and the driver shut the door before getting in the front.

  ‘If you show me where they stop first, then we can carry on,’ I said.

  ‘Sure thing, fella.’

  He turned the key and got a lot more response than I had. He pulled out into the broad street, just in front of another cab moving out from the club.

  I sat in the middle of the seat, looking forward through the windscreen. We just made it through the lights. The Escort was quite a way ahead, turning left with the road, round towards St Pancras Way, but I thought we wouldn’t have much trouble catching it. We followed as it turned left onto Granary Street, up towards Camden. The Escort then took a right on Agar Grove and we stayed behind it, just catching sight of it as it hung a left, up into the grid of streets south of the Camden Road. I knew these streets were small, with a
lot of turns the Escort could make, but my driver didn’t seem too bothered about keeping up with it. I leant forward.

  ‘Don’t lose them,’ I said, trying not to sound impatient.

  ‘Don’t worry, my friend, we’ll get you to your party.’

  We cruised into the quiet back streets, lined with dormant cars. The Escort was nowhere. I sat forward in the seat. We drove on. Then I saw it, down the bottom of a road to the right that we were driving straight past.

  ‘Back up,’ I said, ‘we’ve missed it.’

  ‘Alright, man,’ the guy replied, with a quick smile behind him. ‘Calm down. We’ll duck down the next one.’

  He cruised on. But the next street was one-way, and instead of taking the one after that the guy turned left, and put his foot down.

  ‘Hey!’

  He pulled another left quickly, and put his foot down again. There wasn’t anything I could do. The car sped to the bottom of a dead end; a short street sided by five-storey council blocks with some sort of depot at the end. I thought we were going to crash straight through a red pull-down garage fronting, but instead the driver hit the break, yanking the wheel at the same time and we spun to the left. I flew forward and had to catch myself on the seat back in front of me. The car shuddered back on itself and as soon as it was stable the driver clicked his belt and reached for something on the passenger seat beside him. When he turned round to look at me he wasn’t smiling any more.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

  ‘Hush now,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to be cool.’