Justine's Hat

Justine's Hat

Justine's hat was the brightest thing not in the sky that afternoon at
White Hart Lane station. But there was little competition on the
ground: the posts and benches on the platform had been freshly painted
grey and I, like everyone else in the shadows on the platform declined
colour.
Justine's hat was yellow and pink and blue and came down to her waist
with a bobble on the end. Such items were making increasingly frequent
appearances in her attire but when I first met her she ventured with
nothing further than a smack of lipstick. But that's what happens to so
many people when they go to university- they 'find' themselves and as a
side effect start dressing differently, outr?. If I had approached the
whole thing more wholeheartedly perhaps I would have had too. I must
admit I envied her enthusiasm.
I didn't envy her this particular day though. The whole episode was so
unexpected. I didn't think they still made people like the bloke at the
station and not in London but there he was. And she handled it so
well.
The scene started with him singing a song they sing at Spurs when they
play Arsenal:
"Georgie Graham's magic, he wears a magic hat, and when he saw the
agent's bung, he said I'm having that."
She just rolled her eyes and we carried on talking. We had exams
coming up and she was saying how she knew she was going to mess them up
and I said the same because you do. I actually thought I might do quite
well.
It was about then that I looked at the board and saw that the train
was running a ten minutes late. I had to meet a connection and just as
I was saying "Well, isn't that just brilliant" he started up
again:
"Georgie Graham's magic, he wears a magic hat?"
He was further up the platform, leaning against the mustard yellow
wall below 'White Hart Lane' with a girl not more than sixteen leaning
against him. She looked directly at Justine and laughed.
"Wanker, eh?" I said to Justine, shaking my head.
"Not worth worrying about" she said, but as she did her hand went to
her forehead and beneath the rim of the hat. It was a still day, cloudy
but mild. Beneath that hat and amidst the pitying half-looks from the
other people on the platform it must have felt tropical.
I had known Justine since I started at Middlesex University but hadn't
really spoken to her until September of this, our second year, when she
moved to Hackney and started getting the same train as me. She probably
hadn't noticed me until then. We both took English Lit at our major.
Justine liked the feminist authors- Virginia Woolf, [], []- and was
vocal in her appreciation. I preferred [insert].
Almost in unison we got out pouches of tobacco and began to roll.
Justine sat firmly facing the track but I sat to her right keeping the
couple in the corner of my eye. He had begun to pace the platform, both
hands in his pockets, kicking at scraps of paper that could not be
kicked and just floated about his shoe. She stood with her hands on her
hips, airily pumping the floor with a heel, and both of them watched
us. I could feel them.
"Nice hat" he shouted across.
"Really imaginative" Justine said to me but I was busily lighting my
cigarette and could only raise my eyebrows in reply. I passed Justine
my lighter.
"I hope that's not wacky baccy you're smoking."
"For God's sake?" she muttered, more to her cigarette than to me. The
girlfriend drew him to her, him having to stoop for her to whisper in
his ear. He nodded, smiling.
"I don't know about cat in the hat- dog in the hat, more like."
"What is his problem?" I said to Justine, my voice not sounding like I
had expected it to, like it does first thing in the morning.
"Some people are just idiots."
I should have been reassuring her. Uncertain about how this went, I
gave it a go.
"I wouldn't worry about it," I said, my voice still gravelly. "Some
people just like to mouth off, but they usually leave it at
that."
"Don't you think that's enough?"
She was growing angry. I checked the board- the train would not be
here for another five minutes.
"D'you know, I swear that's- no, no, he's too thin." She allowed
herself a glance at them.
"Who did you think it was?"
"Just this bloke I used to know. But even he wasn't that obnoxious.
God, it really pisses me off the way some people carry on. What makes
him think he's got the right to shout things at me when, when- look at
him! Jesus Christ, I don't think I ever seen such a case against the
theory of evolution! How did he manage to slip through! And I bet he's
just met his girlfriend outside the school gates! It's twenty to four-
I bet he has!"
I didn't know what to do, what to say, even how to sit in a way that
appeared natural. I'd never really been in a situation like this before
and I could feel that Justine might snap. I crossed my legs and then
felt awkward like that so I uncrossed them and then tried to keep still
but I felt like I was posing. The only limb I knew what to do with was
my smoking arm and so I smoked, rapidly, continuously, until I had
burnt my cigarette out and needed both arms and hands to roll another
one. And all the while I tried to think of something to say.
"I think he's bored now, I think he's done." I said when he'd left it
alone for a couple of minutes.
"Bored? I reckon he could keep on indefinitely, he's like a toddler
with a saucepan that he could keep banging on for hours."
I wanted to apologise for being so crap in this situation but I
didn't, I just nodded agreement with her. And sure enough, she was
right.
"Oi, weird girl, your hats nearly as long as my cock, did you know
that?"
This sent the bloke and his girlfriend into uproarious laughter. And
Justine did snap, when there was only three minutes left until the
train should arrive and I had hoped we might be able to ride it out.
She stood up and charged to where they were standing, her hat trailing
behind her.
"Do you want to explain to me exactly what your problem is?"
She faced him, standing less than a metre away. The girlfriend slyly
stepped back.
"Calm down, love, you'll burst a blood vessel in a?" Something
flickered on his face. "? minute".
They stood transfixed.
"I thought it was you but I said to myself 'even Shane Newman's not
that much of a wanker'. It seems I was wrong."
"Justine." He said it quickly, his Adam's apple dancing against his
throat.
The girlfriend stepped back forward.
"Do you know 'er, Shane?"
He ignored her. I could hear the train approaching and summoned myself
to follow Justine.
"Is everything all right?" I asked her.
She turned away from them and started striding up the platform with me
half-running to keep up with her.
"Fine, absolutely fine". We drew level with a carriage and she pushed
the button to open the door. Then with one foot on the train she turned
her head back to the bloke and his girlfriend.
"As I remember it Shane", she yelled loud enough for him and everyone
on the platform and train to hear, "It wasn't even as big as the
bobble!"
And she sank into a seat and closed her eyes.

The journey from White Hart Lane to Hackney Downs was tormentingly
long. Nobody said anything to us but I could feel eyes on her, on us.
Occasionally she met them with wide eyes which she bulged
questioningly. But then she'd shut them again and sit back, arms
folded, legs stretched out ahead of her. I sat opposite writing a text
I wouldn't send and flicking through my bag reading bits from course
booklets and trying desperately to look calm. But my heart was like a
metronome crashing rhythmically against my chest. Who the hell was that
bloke? I attempted conversation once, I asked her how she was getting
on with [insert book] but she just answered "It's not that bad". I said
I was struggling a bit (I wasn't) and she just nodded and said "You'll
get into it". Then she turned her head away and looked out of the
window. So I did the same.
I studied every detail of trackside. They'd cleared away some of the
dead trees at Stamford Hill but it was still a mess of blown-black wood
and white carrier bags. I tried to read the graffiti in the tunnel but
the angular white words didn't seem to say anything. Later a stack of
tyres, black refuse bags, bottles, cans- Stella Artois, Tenants, Pepsi,
Coke, newspapers, a broom head and later the handle, cigarette packets
and a thousand butts, all on or by the track. Some of the gardens
didn't look much different, overgrown and used as a dumping ground for
old bikes, freezers, car parts? But some people really made an effort.
Some gardens were green- gardened, and flowering and I saw flashes of
yellow, yellow daffodils. One fence was painted in a whirl of blue and
orange and yellow- I always looked for it, it was my marker that I was
halfway. In that garden the grey and brown expanse of North London was
kept out and the people within it could just enjoy their own colourful
haven.
I was deliberating whether to ask Justine about the bloke at the
station and veering away from doing it but she must have seen me
looking at her with the question almost on my lips because she said "I
went out with him four years ago."
She seemed to think this explained everything but it seemed so
inconceivable- I would never have put Justine and him together. I
wanted to ask her 'Why?' but wasn't sure how to phrase it. Eventually I
said "Was he different then?" which was really no better than
'Why'.
"No, not really."
She watched my face closely and I tried to not look confused.
"I was."
She didn't say any more, she just went back to staring out of the
window until we reached Hackney Downs and she got off.

Just as I was beginning to relax, he came into my carriage and sat
down opposite me. His girlfriend wasn't with him.
I looked at him briefly before turning away. He was a tall bloke but
narrow with it, scrawny, gangly. He had an angular sort of face with a
strong jaw, not shaven that day, and he had dark eyes that I could feel
on me. But he was average. He was wearing dirty-looking jeans, whether
by design or default I didn't know, and a Nike sweatshirt, the tick
emblazoned across his chest.
What the hell did he want?
"'Scuse me."
I didn't move.
"'Scuse me."
The metronome picked up its pace. He tapped me on the shoulder.
"'Scuse me."
I turned to face him. I had to.
"Hi, it's all right, I'm not goin' to hassle ya."
He ran his hand from a tramline in his hair to the back of his head. I
folded my arms.
"It's about that girl you was with- Justine."
"What do you want?" It came out hoarsely.
"I just wanted to ask you 'bout her. I dunno if she told you but I
used to go out with her."
"Yeah, she did say."
"I just wanted to know what she's doin' now. Why she was at White Hart
Lane. Is she at that university?"
"Yeah."
He smiled at this.
"I always knew she was clever. She was doing her A Levels when I was
goin' out with her. She never worked that hard but she always did all
right."
"She works hard now."
"Bit of a boffin is she? Ah well, good on her, I say."
I took a deep breath. My heart was going for it but I don't think it
showed.
"What exactly do you want?"
He looked like he was only just considering this. His hand went
through his hair again.
"I just wanted to? Well, I feel a bit? well, stupid really about what
I said out there."
"Good." I could feel adrenaline.
"I'm trying to apologise."
"It's not me you've got to apologise to."
"I know. I want to apologise to Justine. I want you to tell her I said
I was sorry."
"Why didn't you tell her yourself?"
He let out a long breath.
"Not when she's in that mood. If she's anything like she used to be
like? well, it's best left alone- do you know what I mean?"
I was enjoying his discomfort.
"No."
"Jesus, will you give me a chance?"
I was making amends for my crapness earlier. And I was on a roll. I
didn't feel frightened. My heart was going mad but it felt OK.
"I don't see any reason why I should. You were a complete arsehole out
there."
His eyebrows furrowed and he looked like someone had put vinegar on
his tongue.
"That's a bit harsh, innit?"
"I don't think so. Who do you think you are shouting at people like
that? You're only sorry because you know her. So you think people
deserve to be shouted at like that?"
"It was just meant to be a laugh, weren't it?"
"I don't think many people find that sort of thing funny."
He turned away from me, his leg jogging furiously. I felt a smile
creep on my face.
"Except maybe children. Like your girlfriend."
He exploded:
"You snooty little bitch, you fucking stuck-up cow. I was only having
a laugh and Justine weren't even that upset, she was just a bit pissed
off! So don't you go all high an' mighty on me, you prissy little tart.
Justine can fuck her apology if she's anything like you are! People
like you aren't worth botherin' with! It probably did her good to be
brought down a peg or two- she never used to think she was better than
me."
The train rolled into Bethnal Green. He swaggered to the door and
smashed his fist into the button until it opened, and jumped off.
I looked straight ahead while I waited for the doors to close and the
train to move on but then I heard a banging at the window.
"I was only taking the piss out of her fucking hat!" He yelled. I
stared straight ahead with my middle finger up to the window.
"I was only taking the piss out of her fucking hat."

Justine didn't come to uni the next day or the day after. When I did
see her on the Friday she was wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans. And
no hat.
"He came and had a go at me on the train after you'd left, you know,"
I told her. "It was quite an adrenaline rush."
"I'm sorry about that".
"Don't be sorry- I sort of enjoyed it," I said. And anyway, it's not
your fault."
We walked to our lecture the long way, cigarettes in hand. I told him
what he'd said to me and what I'd said to him and how wound up I'd made
him. She complimented me on my hair.
"But what you said to him was brilliant though." I said as we finished
our cigarettes outside the lecture hall.
She looked down. "I can't believe I said it."
"It was great- you didn't care what anyone thought, and you really got
to him."
She stubbed her cigarette out and walked up the stairs into the shadow
of the lecture hall entrance.
"I hope nothing like that ever happens to me again. My heart was
beating like a drum."
I pulled a lock of purple hair forward so I could see it. Mine had
been too, I thought.
It was brilliant.