Sleeper – Part three.
I take a deep breath and dive in. Cradling the bag in the crook of my left arm, logo facing outwards, and sweeping my right in a wide arc I call out like a fairground barker
“Ladies and gentlemen, can you help me? I have a problem only you can solve.”
I have affected the Cockney accent of my childhood. Some people smile, most casually ignore me so I try a different tack, approaching individual groups.
“Are you Irish, dearies?”
“He is, I’m not.”
“Well I’m really sorry about this but I’m going to have to split you up. I can’t really explain in detail now and you’ll have to take it on trust …
… if you could go up to the top of the Square there and join the queue, you’ll see it when you get there, just behind the screen, can you see it? …it’s something really special that only the Irish would appreciate …
… and if you could go home, dearie, and come back later in the week … we have different days for the Asians, the English and others and we’ll let you know don’t worry …
… There’ll be an announcement with details – it’ll all become clear later, it’ll be on the news, facebook, Twitter, all that …
… Just go home and log on to the internet, if you haven’t got the internet at home you can go to your local library – do you know where that is?
… And in fact if you can’t wait that long there’s a library quite near here, did you know that, less than two minutes away?”
This patter and its variations serve me well and I continue to work the crowd, some hooked by my lines, moving towards the Fourth Plinth, where a screen obscures the backstage area. Others are scornful, one man frowning unsympathetically as he spots my bare and now dirty feet.
As I make my way round the crowds, my voice becomes more and more hoarse, my patter more and more theatrical.
“… This is a really big thing if you know what I mean, they’ll be closing the Tube in 15 minutes, so you really need to be on your way …
… This is better than X factor but I’m really not at liberty to say more just now, just go home and switch on your TV, all will be revealed …”
All the time performing this spiel I scan the crowd on the lookout and then I see him, standing next to a fountain with two unknowns, each cradling a beer can. He is rubbing his stubbled chin, different yet somehow recognisable. I stare him in the eye and he stares back and I know. It’s all on track, we have taken our places and it will pan out as planned. Sleepers resurrected after twenty-three years, almost to the day. Yes the meek will indeed inherit the earth. I move on, not wishing to draw attention at this late stage and confident that he will pitch up for the party later, and what a party it will be – my best yet.
I am standing on the steps up to the Fourth Plinth and beginning to tire when I feel the presence of two men in black. They ask me to leave the square and this simply fans the flames,
“Can you point out exactly who is complaining, they all look very happy to me? And how exactly can I be trespassing since this is public land managed by the Mayor?”
They flank me half-heartedly as I flail up the steps, onlookers curious: is she drunk? I tug at my hand-knitted jumper and address them defiantly,
”Do you know how much this is worth?”
“It took three months to knit, yes three whole months, so how much would you pay?”
“Price and value, that’s what I’m talking about, price and value.”
Once at the edge of the square the security guards fall away and I relax, assume a normal gait, dissolving into the crowd.
(To be continued)