Black Tears

by Woods, Karen

  True to her word, her aunt threw her onto the streets and forced her to go into the homeless shelter. The place itself wasn’t that bad but Francesca couldn’t wait until she was settled in her own place. The people at the homeless accommodation were very helpful and told Francesca they would help her furnish her new home and help the best they could once they found her somewhere to live.

  Lots of young people were in the refuge and some had two or three kids with them. Looking at all the different characters, Francesca knew they had stories to tell and couldn’t wait to find out how they had ended up in this situation. One woman sat with Francesca in the family room and told her of her fight to leave a violent husband. As Francesca looked at her, she noticed the dark bruises all over her arms. The woman told her there was a new place that had just opened that helped people just like her and the people who ran it were very good and very understanding. The woman also told her she’d tried to get in there before she came to this place but it was full at the time. She went on to tell her that the people there were very helpful and phoned round all the homeless sites and found her this place to stay. She even wrote down the address just in case Francesca was ever stuck again.

  This was the first time the woman had ever been without her husband in many years, and she felt petrified of starting her life again. She told Francesca she had been married for twenty-three years and for most of them, she had been unhappy. Her husband treated her like a slave and beat her regularly until, finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She whispered as she told her that if she hadn’t left him she would have definitely have killed him as her nerves had been playing up, and she wasn’t thinking straight at the time. “Best thing I’ve ever done leaving that worthless piece of shit. I could kick myself now when I look back at what I put up with. Well, let’s see him cope now on his own. I hope the dirty fucker rots in hell.” The woman smiled as she lit a cig and offered Francesca one. She looked about fifty years old and her frail figure made her look anorexic. Her hair was thin and you could see her scalp through her fine red hair obviously caused by the life she’d led.

  Life in the homeless accommodation was quite hard for the first week and Francesca found it hard to settle but she had no other choice but to hold out until they finally offered her a house. She thought of going back to her aunt’s and begging her for forgiveness, but she knew her mind would already be made up and her decision was final. Francesca had called round to her auntie’s a few days before and she’d flung her mail at her, telling her to get her address changed as quickly as possible because she didn’t want people thinking she still lived there. Francesca’s mother had also left a message with her aunt, telling Francesca never to darken her doorstep either as she’d also had more than enough of Francesca’s antics to last her a lifetime.

  Her mood was low as she walked upstairs to her designated room. The smell of the place reminded her of wet dogs. The building itself must have been a hundred years old, as the ceilings were massive and the old cornice was still in place. The temporary accommodation had three flights of stairs and Francesca’s room was right at the top. As she held the wooden banister, she could hear the noise of people talking from different rooms. The sounds she heard were people who were just like her, people who were at their wits end and had nowhere else to go. The screams from a small child suddenly made her stop what she was doing and she realised just how much of a nightmare things were really going to be. As she reached her room, a woman stood smoking a cig at the opposite end of the corridor leaning out through an open window. Francesca smiled and tried to be pleasant, but the woman looked stony faced and carried on smoking with her back turned away from her.

  The room itself was cold as Francesca lay on her bed. It was small and the cornice was painted a soft yellow colour. The wallpaper was peeling off due to the damp and as she looked closer, black fungus grew all over it. The room had a small window but the only view was of an alleyway and nothing worthwhile could be seen. Francesca sat thinking on the bed, and then she remembered the letters she had picked up from her aunt. She reached over to her plastic bags that contained her bits of clothing and searched for the letters. She quickly glanced at each letter. The one that took her interest was handwritten, she immediately recognised Gordon’s handwriting. Her heart raced as she sat up on the bed just looking at the letter. What the fuck could he have written she thought. Half of her wanted to rip the letter open as quickly and the other half-wanted her to leave it sealed because if she knew Gordon, he would be only writing to tell her it was over and fill her heart with more pain.

  Francesca smelt the white envelope and held it to her heart before she finally opened it. As she started to read it, her hands trembled as she tried to make sense of it. She couldn’t believe it as she read each and every word over and over again. He had written that he wanted her to move in with his brother Tom and that he would look after her until his release. Francesca felt mixed emotions about the letter. As she read it again and again, she realised that Gordon now wanted her and the baby. He said he’d been so mixed up at the time that he couldn’t think straight. Francesca stared round the room and thought about the prospects of moving in with his brother. Tom wasn’t the cleanest of blokes but it was better than being in the homeless shelter she thought as she read through the letter for the final time. Francesca decided the following day she would go and see Tom and see what he thought of her moving in.

  Tom was a funny kind of bloke, but she got on well with him and didn’t seem to mind his filthy habits. He was a drug addict and he’d been using heroin for years. The smack ruled his life and Francesca knew she had to make sure her few possessions were locked away if she moved in. Gordon had also put a visiting order in the letter and wanted her to come and see him as soon as possible. She collapsed onto the worn mattress, her head spun with thoughts and her heart beat again knowing that Gordon still loved her.

  Francesca tossed and turned all night long as she heard a child crying his eyes out in the next room. His mother tried to comfort him but she finally lost her temper and smacked him, leaving him in a worse state than before. Francesca checked the clock on the wall and her eyes squinted together as she tried to make out the time. She was wide-awake and thought about her next visit with Gordon. Tom’s name was also on the visiting order and she felt safe knowing someone would be there to comfort her if he started his usual abuse.

  The time came for Francesca to leave the council’s accommodation and she started to gather her few belongings. All her possessions could now be contained inside three plastic bags. As she looked at them, she felt sadness. Three bags of clothes were all she had to show for her life. She knew she had to change her ways from this day forward and hoped moving in with Tom would help get her back on her feet. Making her way to the small stainless steel sink, she washed her tired face. Dipping her head she splashed the icy cold water all over her trying to make herself feel clean, because the bed she had slept in had left her feeling itchy and dirty.

  Francesca said goodbye to the people in charge and thanked them for their help. They had offered her breakfast but she refused, as she wanted to get to Tom’s as soon as possible. Her stride quickened towards Collyhurst flats where Tom lived. Her fingers started to throb as she carried her bags and she prayed her journey would end soon.

  4

  The flats where Tom lived were about twelve storeys high and faced a local shopping precinct called Eastford Square. He lived on the twelfth floor and she looked up at his flat searching for any sign of him. Opening the main door, she headed for the lift. The stench in the entrance made her gag. It smelt of piss and she could actually see puddles as she walked in. She pressed the filthy button in the lift and waited. It seemed to take forever, and that is when the notice caught her eye, placed on a wall nearby.

  ‘OUT OF ORDER’

  Her temper was about to explode and she felt like life wasn’t worth living anymore. As she entered the stairwell, she could see light fittings hanging down from the c
eiling and loads of graffiti on the walls. As she looked up, the grey concrete stairs seemed to go on forever. She was breathless as she reached the fifth floor and she promised herself that she would have to stop smoking, because now she had her baby to think about and not just herself. Reaching the twelfth floor she was in tears and she hoped the lift would be fixed in the near future, as she wouldn’t be able to stand the journey up and down the stairs every day. She placed her bags on the floor and wiped the sweat from her brow before finally knocking on the door. Music was playing loudly as she tried to shout through the letterbox.

  “Tom!” she shouted three or four times but still no one came. Francesca hammered at the door and nearly smashed the glass window. Eventually she heard Tom making his way to the door.

  “Fucking hell! What ya knocking like that for. I thought it was the dibble ya daft cunt.” He walked slowly back into the living room wearing nothing but his piss-stained boxer shorts, shouting to Francesca to hurry up and get her arse inside the flat. Tom turned the music down and spread himself across the shabby settee, leaving a chair for Francesca to sit in. His body was pale and she couldn’t help but notice all the bruises running up his arms. Flinging herself onto the chair, she released her bags from her fingers and stretched them out to ease the pain. As she looked at Tom, she noticed one of his bollocks hanging out of his boxers. She tried not to look, but this hairy prune kept looking straight at her and she found it hard to conceal her amusement. Tom reached for his tobacco and started to roll a cig for himself and Francesca.

  “Get the kettle on then,” he said as he scratched his balls. Francesca laughed and told him to fuck off. She told him he’d have to wait until her strength had returned. Tom looked at her and laughed as he passed her a cig.

  “Here get this, my new pad mate” he laughed loudly and started to tell Francesca about his orders from Gordon to look after her.

  “Ay, our Gordon’s given me loads of rules for you. He’s like a fuckin sergeant major. He said no going out with ya mates, no drinking, and that you have to suck my cock whenever I ask.” Francesca laughed as Tom tried to keep a straight face.

  “No seriously he said if I need anything like a suck or a wank, just ask you.” Francesca chuckled as she looked at the bean sprout frame of a man in front of her. Tom had always had a great sense of humour and despite his drug use, he was a top lad. She now faced him and sat forward in her chair.

  “Listen mate, I won’t be sucking any cock. So get that thought right out of ya mind. Anyway if it’s anything like ya brothers it would get caught in between my teeth so don’t bother.” Tom and Francesca laughed together as she kicked her shoes off and threw her legs over the arm of the chair. After she smoked her cig, she headed into the kitchen to make them both a brew.

  Entering the kitchen she was gob-smacked at the state of it. Pots and pans were piled high in the sink and the smell of the cooker made her heave. The flooring was all ripped and you could barely see the pattern on it. The wallpaper was brown with grease and all the tiles round the sink were covered in splashes of food.

  “Fuckin hell Tom” she shouted, “it looks like a bomb has hit it in here. When was the last time you cleaned up ya scruffy twat.” He now came to the kitchen door and protested.

  “Why what’s fuckin up with it? I cleaned up last night you cheeky bastard.” Francesca tutted as she filled the battered kettle up with water. The kettle had a layer of grease on it and she knew she wouldn’t be having a brew, at least not until the place was cleaned up properly. She finally found a cup at the bottom of all the pans in the sink and rescued it from the filth. The cup was supposed to be white, but as she looked closer, it had dark circles inside, it was a disgrace.

  “You’re such a scruffy bastard, Tom. How the fuck you’re not dead with all these germs amazes me. You must have some kick arse immune system to fight them off, because I know I would surely be dead if I ate anything cooked in this shit hole.” Tom rubbed his head, and felt a little embarrassed, but he defended himself well as he spoke.

  “Ay! Ya cheeky bitch. If ya don’t like it fuck off to where you’ve come from and see if ya life’s any better because from what I’ve heard you don’t even have a place to live at the moment do ya? So shut the fuck up?” Francesca knew she had hit a nerve with Tom and tried to make it into a joke hoping he would calm down.

  “I’m just saying you need a woman’s touch round the place that’s all. So don’t ya get on ya high fucking horse with me?” Tom headed back to the front room, turned the music on, and took his position back on the settee as she finished making the brew.

  Francesca felt like she was treading on eggshells as she returned, because Tom had a face like thunder as he lay fidgeting on the settee. She passed him his brew and he barely raised a smile as he took it from her hands. The room was silent for a few minutes before Francesca broke the silence, hoping to build bridges with him.

  “So has Gordon told you you’re going to be an uncle?” His faced changed and a smile filled his face as he started to speak.

  “Yeah, I’m buzzin for ya. Hope it’s a lad then it can carry on the family name.”

  Tom looked surprisingly handsome as he smiled at her, and for the first time she noticed his sparkling eyes. They were so much like Gordon’s and they sparkled like stars as he spoke. His hair looked untidy and was in a desperate need of a haircut. She already knew he had a girlfriend but it was an on-off relationship and had been like that for as long as she could remember. They both chatted for a while and sorted out which room was going to be Francesca’s. As she glanced round, she knew that everywhere would need a good clean before the baby came along and planned to start as soon as she had a chance. Tom started to look very shaky and sweat started to fill his forehead. His words started to slur and she could tell something was wrong with him.

  “What’s up with you? Are you okay?” Tom managed to stand up and looked in the mirror. He knew exactly what she was talking about as he wiped more sweat from his forehead.

  “I need a fix don’t I. Don’t supposed you’ve got any money till I get my giro have you?” Francesca shook her head but her heart went out to him as she watched him gather all his clothes together trying to get ready as quickly as he could.

  “Well looks like it’s a walk to Conran Street market then innit. See what I can have away.” She watched him quivering as he got ready knowing he couldn’t live without the heroin he craved.

  Tom had been addicted to heroin for as long as she could remember. At first, he thought he could just take it every now and then, but the drug got a grip of him and without any warning took over his life. He secretly wished he could get off the shit but no matter how hard he tried, he always found himself looking for the next fix. His girlfriend didn’t help, as she was also a smack head. He didn’t mind at first because she shoplifted to fund her own habit and always made sure Tom got a share of the proceeds. As time went on, he told her he wanted to get off the drugs, but she always made sure the temptation was right in front of him knowing he couldn’t refuse. People thought of Tom as a low-life and every time he walked in Harpurhey, someone could be heard shouting ‘bag head’ from a distance. It was mainly the young kids who shouted and he always tried to ignore them but it cut him up deep inside. He’d done some bad things while he was on drugs and often felt ashamed of what he’d become. His mother never had time for him before his addiction, so when she found out he was addicted to heroin he was shunned and warned never to come round her house again. Tom’s mother hated the thought of her neighbours talking about her and when they saw him in the area they would always make sure everything was locked up as they knew he wouldn’t think twice about robbing from them. He’d robbed from his own family, even his mother’s fur coats and nothing was safe when he was around.

  Tom pulled his grey padded shoplifting coat from the side of the chair. The coat had loads of different pockets in it and made him look twice the size he really was. He told Francesca he would be home later and to do
whatever she wanted. He didn’t wait for a reply and slammed the door behind him.

  Francesca sat staring for a few minutes before she decided to try to clean the place up. Cups were scattered all around the living room and ashtrays were over flowing with cig ends. The living room was quite small and the furniture in it was old and worn. She knew she’d have a task in front of her, but she couldn’t stand living in a shit tip. She walked in every room and looked at the jobs in front of her. As she opened the toilet door, the stench hit the back of her throat. She could see the toilet hadn’t been flushed and a big turd was sticking out of the pot. She heaved as she covered her face with her hands and rushed to flush the toilet. As she did, she noticed that the newspaper that someone had used to wipe their arse on was causing a blockage. She tried one last time to flush it before she finally gave up. The smell had made her feel sick and she decided she’d wait until Tom returned for him to tackle it.

  Francesca gathered what cleaning materials she could find and started cleaning the front room. She pulled the big cushions from the settee and started to sweep the food and bits and bobs from it. The settee was red velour and the arms were ripped from wear and tear. She’d always been good with a needle and cotton and decided later on she would fix them and try to make them look half-decent. The carpet on the floor was red patterned with gold flowers running through it, it smelt something rotten. She peeled the carpet from the floor and seen it had vinyl tiles underneath it. Surely, they would be better than the stinking carpet she thought and started on the quest to pull it up. Once she started cleaning, she got stuck in. She removed the stained netted curtains from the windows and wiped the furniture with some pine gel she found in the cupboard. Once the carpet was up, she rolled it together and dragged it into the lobby for Tom to shift when he came home. The floor was swept and mopped and the place already looked so much better, she was proud of the changes she’d made. She stripped all the beds and placed the quilts into the washer hoping to free them from the cheesy smell of Tom’s feet. The bedroom which Tom said was hers was probably the worst in the house. Car radios were scattered around it and magazines were spread across the floor. She even found old used syringes left scattered about. The curtains were closed and once she opened them, the true state of the room was visible and she nearly fainted with the shock. Francesca could have sworn she’d seen a mouse run across the room, but couldn’t be sure. Where the fuck do I start, she thought, as she tried to move all the clothes from the double bed where she sat.