Pack Up the Moon Read Free Page A

McNuggets and a chocolate milkshake in one sitting
    without feeling sick.”
    “Christ,” I said, “that’s disgusting.”
    He nodded his head in agreement. “That’s me, baby,” he laughed with his arms in the air.
    *
     
    Later, he arrived into the bedroom with a piece of paper and a pen.
    “John, I’m trying to get dressed here.”
    He put the pen and paper on the dressing-table. “Come on, it’s just a few tests. Ten minutes tops. I want to try it out before the party.”
    I couldn’t believe it. “You’re not planning on doing this at the party?” I asked incredulously.
    “Ern, it’s a laugh,” he said unconvincingly.
     
    So I picked up the pen anyway, knowing I had no choice.
    “Make this quick. I have to blow-dry my hair,” I warned. He pulled out the instructions from his briefcase and
    started reading. “OK, pick a colour and write it down.” I thought for a second and wrote.
    “OK, name three things that you associate with that colour.”
    I thought for another few seconds and then wrote
    down three words.
    “Have you got it?”
    I nodded yes.
     
    “What colour did you pick?”
     
    “Red.”
    “Good, now what are the three words?” He was grinning smugly
    I read my words aloud: “Space-hoppers, cigarettes and lipstick.”
    “What?” he asked, obviously perturbed. His grin faded and he was looking at me funnily
    “Space-hoppers, cigarettes and lipstick,” I reiterated. “I heard you the first time. It doesn’t make any sense — you’re doing it wrong.”
     
    I couldn’t believe it and frankly had had enough of his
    poxy game. “What the fuck do you mean I’m doing it wrong?” I screamed over my hairdryer. “It’s a psychological test. You asked me to pick three words that I associate with red and I picked them. How can that be wrong?”
    Bewildered, his hand reached for his forehead and it became obvious that he was fighting the urge to scratch
    his head. “How do you get space-hoppers, cigarettes and lipstick from the colour red?” he yelled.
    I was struggling with a newfound cow’s lick and not
    having the laugh that had been promised, but, as I had anticipated that laughter would not be the outcome of
    John’s little game, I just answered him in the hope that he’d leave me be.
    “When I was a kid my space-hopper was red. I smoke Marlboro, the packet is red, and my favourite colour lipstick is red. It’s that simple.” I turned up the hairdryer.
    “Well, that just doesn’t make any sense,” he mumbled, rereading the page.
    Then he shouted something about the three words and
    how they were supposed to describe how I saw myself. He was clearly disturbed with my answer, so in an effort to relieve his pain I turned off the dryer and thought for
    a minute.
    “Maybe it’s revealing that deep down I’m a chain
     
    smoking space-hopper who likes red lipstick. That’s
    amazing. You’re right. I’ve really learned something about
    myself.” I was laughing now, but he remained perplexed.
    “When we did it in the lecture hall it worked really
     
    well. You must be mentally challenged, Em. I swear it
     
    works with everyone else.” He crumpled the page and threw it in the bin.
    As he left the room I heard him mutter, “Fucking space-hoppers!”
     
    *
     
    By the time John and I reached the party it was in full
    swing. The hall door was open and there was a couple sitting on the stairs kissing. As we passed them, John made a huge wet kissing sound. Fortunately they didn’t seem to hear it. We headed straight for the kitchen, where Sean was already sitting at the table skinning up a joint. John plonked down beside him, while I went looking for Anne and Richard and found them in the sitting-room. Anne was busy making sure the assembled crowd was having a
    good time while Richard was throwing alcohol down his
    throat like it was a gaping hole that required filling.
    There was a big homemade sign hanging over the
    fireplace with the words “WE’RE IN THE