by T H Paul
“For how long?” Penny paused.
“She doesn’t know. Might be a while.”
“Leave you all alone, did she?”
“Janet,” Mr Lewis said, clearly feeling his wife was overstepping the mark, “Penny is perfectly capable of looking after herself for a little while, aren’t you girl.” He was smiling across to Penny, prompting her to confirm what he was trying to prove.
“Yes,” Penny said, as confident as she could.
“Forgive me,” Mrs Lewis said, “I didn't mean to pry. Just know that if we can be of any help, you only have to ask.” And she smiled at Penny, turned and dragged her husband forcefully by the hand after her. Penny smiled, opening the front door moments later, walking into her darkened hallway as she saw the Lewis’ doing the same across the road, Mrs Lewis giving one final glance across the street to Penny. Penny shut the door quickly.
They were just trying to help Penny told herself. It was the first time any of the neighbours had said anything, however. Did they suspect something was up? Was she going to be inundated with offers to help and meals provided for her?
Penny looked around. She’d changed very little in the house since her mother had gone. Penny hardly went in the kitchen––it remained the dwelling place of her mother and her drinking. Penny could not get those memories out of her mind.
She was living a lie. Her mother wasn’t coming back, yet why had she said to the Lewis’ that she was? Why not be honest? What was so hard about being honest for once? Penny knew the answer to that like she knew her name. It was just in her. The gift made her secretive. It was as if it craved the shadows, was wary of watching eyes, could only operate without anyone’s knowledge. That was why Penny had never told anyone. That was why she lived a double life.
That was why she had so few friends.
She was around people all day long––she had a class full of peers, a school packed with students, but was alone. She worked in a pub that some nights it was impossible to find a spare chair, yet she was an individual in a sea of strangers.
Even with people, she could have been honest with––boyfriends who had come and gone, friends like Millie who she had more in common with than most––she had never been straight with any of them. Not open. She was paying a therapist top dollar to help her, and the sessions had covered some serious issues; her parents, her upbringing, her friendships, the rape, the groomer amongst the many dozen topics that had come up, yet she had never touched on who she was. Her gift.
Only with Joy, that heaven sent angel, it seemed, had she been totally honest, though even in that she felt a fraud. She could have already done so much more for Joy––maybe she still would, Penny kept convincing herself––but she was choosing the easy option, for now. Selecting the option that kept it all to herself.
“I can’t help but feel I’m a fraud,” Penny had said moments into her next visit with Joy. The room was colder than usual, though the bunch of fresh flowers Penny had brought with her that morning at least offered hope. She just wished her friend could have seen them, could have smelt them. Penny had asked Joy in the past about things like that, but there was no change. Joy couldn’t sense a thing.
I think you pay too much credit to your emotions and what you feel, dear, Joy said in her usual glossy accent that Penny had so very much come to enjoy. And not enough attention to the truth and who you are inside. That last comment cut like a knife through butter.
The truth. That was a can of worms if ever Penny knew one.
“People can’t handle the truth, Joy, not about me, anyway.”
So you keep telling me, and yet here we are, still going over the same old hurt that will keep churning over until you can trust someone enough with whom to be most vulnerable.
“Vulnerable? It’s not that simple.
Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but you’ll never know unless you try it. I haven’t judged you.
“You are different.”
Because I’m in a coma and can’t give your secret away, you mean?
It wasn’t exactly what she meant, but the comment hit home, regardless.
“No, it’s not that, exactly,” she said, brushing it to one side as best she could.
Because you didn’t just give me one gift, you gave me two.
Joy had Penny, though Penny was sure she had worked it out already, and so it had proved
Do you think I didn’t pick up the fact I’m able to give you such advice, such wisdom? It’s okay; I’m not angry. It has meant I’ve got to know you.
Penny was silent, no words forming that could adequately communicate what was going through her mind at that moment. Penny wondered how much of who Penny was that Joy had got to know. Penny indeed hadn’t given her everything.
“I took Millie to meet the guys at work,” Penny said, as if the previous subject was over with, put to bed and it was time to move on.
You be careful with her around that group. From what you’ve shared, she isn’t as clued in as you are. Penny had said nearly the same to Millie herself.
“I will. Though Millie was asking if I’d go dancing with her again,” Penny said. She wouldn’t mention clubbing. Joy knew Millie and Penny used to do ballet together, had done since the age of five.
That’s a good idea. You should do it. You love dancing.
The knot inside Penny’s stomach tightened just a little more. Penny glanced at her watch. She had a few hours’ work to do on an essay before her shift started that Saturday, and needed to leave.
“I’ll be back here tomorrow morning, Joy,” Penny said.
Except, she wouldn’t.
8
That Saturday was going to be one long, hellbent day that wouldn’t be over until way into the following morning. For one crazy night, I could let my hair down, let loose and be the seventeen-year-old I still was, without the pressures of running a house, running a car, or keeping a job.
Just Penny the teenager, Penny the girl––Penny, the raver. I was to pull my first ever all-nighter––this weekend fell two weeks before my ill-fated Blackpool trip––which would land me blissful and unaware into another place, a better place, for a time. Until reality fell with such brutal aggression that every self-justifiable reason I could ever come up with to explain any of my actions would be left speechless, response-less; gobsmacked.
Millie had called around to Penny’s that afternoon as Penny was finishing the school work she’d been spending so much time doing. It had been the reason she had cut her time with Joy a little shorter that day so that she could have a few hours before work that afternoon to complete the assignment. Penny opened the front door as her friend rang the bell.
“What’s that?” Penny asked as Millie dropped a backpack onto the hallway floor.
“In case it’s too late to go home to mine,” she said, adding, “I’ll sleep over in the spare room here. Or on the sofa, I don’t mind.” They’d not discussed anything, but Penny didn’t mind.
“I’ve got work now; you know that, right?” Penny had mentioned it on the telephone half an hour before when Millie had called her.
“Yes, and I’ll come in with you.” Penny saw the look on her friends face.
“Have you been in touch with them since last time?” Penny quizzed, but Millie just smiled.
“Just a few of them.”
“Millie! You promised!” They’d made no such agreement.
“I thought you’d be happy. We get to hang out together.” Penny didn’t want to push her friend away.
“Look, I’m heading out in five minutes, and you are welcome to come with me. I can drop you home later.”
“I’ll leave this here, just in case,” Millie said, pointing to her bag. She had no intention of going home early that night. Clive and his guys had promised them both entry into a club. Millie would only mention that a lot later in the evening when Penny had finished work; when Penny had maybe a drink or two already in her.
Penny watched Millie from the kitchen as muc
h as she could, on waitress service herself by six as the pub filled up with the usual crowd that Saturday night. Penny would catch the odd word of the conversation around Millie’s spot, as the group of eight sat around a small table, a table already filled with empty glasses. Occasionally Penny would join them, but not until after eight did she have time to stop and chat for a minute or so each time. On one of these encounters, she caught Clive’s mate leaning right in and whispering something into Millie’s ear, to which Millie started laughing. Penny went back into the kitchen, a pile of dirty plates building up, the main rush for meals over now, and the cleanup work ready to begin.
By ten Penny was done, and she told the landlady she was going to join the others, which was not uncommon for her. Penny hung up her apron and went to squeeze in next to Millie.
“What do you want?” Clive called over to her, on his way to the bar for another round of refills.
“Oh, a coke please,” she said. It would come back with a splash of Jack Daniels in. He’d winked at her as he passed the drink.
At one end of the pub, and adding to the crowd there that night, was a group of mostly men. It was a big fight night, a Sky Box Office Las Vegas event that always saw drink sales skyrocket. In the back of the pub, sitting behind the main building and as far from the television screens as was possible, was a musician. The sounds of music and ringside commentary mingled freely for all.
Penny and the group she was with were halfway between both events, in a happy little existence that gave focus to neither fight nor performance. Millie seemed to be a little drunk by that point, Penny’s friend just laughing hysterically at anything Clive’s mate said. He had a name, as Penny was to find out. It was Bill Brocker, but everyone called him Billy Boy, despite the fact he was at least as old as Clive, maybe older.
There were two other women in the circle, girlfriends of some of the men there, as Penny was aware, but it seemed a fluid mix.
By eleven, the last bell rang. The fight on the television, a British heavyweight title fight, had come to a close, as had the musician at the other end. Both groups had gone home already.
Around the table Penny was sitting at, the glasses had been cleared once, not that you could tell. Penny was finishing her third coke, Millie on at least that––Penny had no idea how many Millie had consumed before she’d ended her shift.
“Let’s go clubbing with them all,” Millie said, loudly and in front of the group.
“You’re all going?” Penny said, taking in the nods from the men and women around the table.
“It’ll be fun, a chance to show them our moves,” Millie said. She’d been telling them all how they both had first met each other dancing ballet.
“We can’t wait to see your moves,” Clive piped up, a few of the guys giving that a cheer, as the two other women gave a mock slap across their boyfriend's knees.
“Okay,” Penny said. She felt like a grown up. Penny was old enough––nearly––to do such things, and despite living without parents, despite having no one waiting for her at home, waiting to scold her for being out late, Penny had never lived in such a way. She’d always been sensible. Maybe after all she’d been through, a little fun was what she needed?
They were the last ones out of the pub, Penny saying goodnight to the landlord as he shut the door behind them, telling her to be safe as he did so, Penny already turning and not even catching his words. She was with a large group, anyway, who knew what they were doing. She was being taken care of well.
They ended up walking the couple of miles it took to get to the part of town where the two main clubs were located, both facing the other, as if rival venues, which in many ways they were. Each prided itself on being the best there was, and for those who visited regularly, they would do so exclusively in either one or the other. Clive’s preference was Tinkerbell’s.
They had picked up a kebab on the way, the men chomping them down but Penny only able to eat a little bit of hers. Clive finished the rest. The two couples in the group had gone on ahead, leaving Penny and Millie with Clive and his two mates, Billy Boy and a guy known as just Duke. Penny assumed it was his surname, not a first name.
At the club, Clive walked over to the bouncers and had a word. Penny spotted them greeting one another like old friends. There were no body searches for him, no requests for identification or proof of membership––it was one of those places where only members were allowed in. Penny would find out membership was merely a piece of card with their name on it, having given an address and date of birth to get one.
That was not needed for the group of three men and two women as Penny was ushered in ahead of the queuing horde, Clive thanking his mates on the door as he led his little posse inside.
Penny had never been inside an actual nightclub before, but it was as dark and as noisy as she had expected. Drinks got served in plastic cups, which became apparent after she trod on a few left abandoned on the floor. Thankfully they were at least empty. Because of the noise, it was hard to speak.
“I’ve never been to a club before,” Penny said to Millie, her friend not catching what was said the first time.
“Me neither,” she finally replied.
Clive went straight to the bar, the first round of orders given to the man behind the counter. Clive had promised to take care of them that night and had been raving about the cocktails on offer, suggesting they take his advice and sample a few. He returned to the table five minutes later with the first round of drinks, two large orange cocktails with three straws in each glass.
“Take a sip,” he shouted to the two girls as another track with a heavy electronic pop beat had just started thumping through the sound system, the walls shaking with each pulse. Penny grabbed a straw, Millie doing the same, and both girls savoured the taste, which was stronger than they had expected.
“Quite a kick, right?” Clive said as he saw their reactions. He took a sip himself.
“I want to hit the dance floor!” Millie exclaimed. “Are you coming?” and she pulled Penny by the hand as if she had no choice but to join her. They both walked laughing towards the middle of the space, people all around them lost in the music, pumping their arms in the air, pounding their bodies in time to the bass, the whole mass one collective group of dancers.
It didn’t take long for Penny to get lost in the crowd, each new track giving fresh energy, each beat feeling faster than the previous, as bodies crashed into each other, total strangers coming together before staggering off in another direction, each person’s limbs it seemed playing to its own rhythm. Penny experienced a reckless abandonment she’d never had before, each passing track offering a new freedom. Exhausted yet thoroughly happy, the two girls made their way back to the table where Clive had earlier been standing, though it was just the two of them at that moment. Both were hot and sweaty.
“Well?” Millie said, taking a sip of the latest cocktail that had turned up.
“It’s brilliant,” Penny said, each muscle in her body desperate for rest but her soul screaming for more.
Clive came back over to them at that moment with some more drinks.
“Having fun, ladies?” he said as he placed the bright blue concoctions onto a spare bit of ledge. They didn’t need to respond to confirm what he already knew.
It was five that morning when the last of the clubbers started to leave the venue, both Penny and Millie clueless that they’d been dancing for so many hours, the lack of windows, lack of anything but loud pumping music blinding them to the fact it was already the following morning.
They had also been working through some cocktails, always shared between them all, and there had been snacks bought, but it had been the dancing that had kept them all there, Penny and Millie having never experienced anything like it before.
“Let’s go and get something proper to eat,” Billy Boy had said, the five of them making their way outside, which was still pre-dawn, darkness all around.
“What’s going to be open this late?�
� Penny asked.
“There’s a good cafe just around the corner which stays open all night. Come on,” and he led the group, the rest just sauntering behind, Penny happily carried along by this more mature crowd. A crowd which knew what was open, men who knew what cocktails worked best, a man who could get them into the club, despite the fact they were underage, despite the fact they had no legal right to be there.
The cafe in question, to any sober customer, would have been classed quite a dive, though to Penny and Millie, the world still spinning around them, their heads still pumping and their ears whistling, it might just as easily have been the Ritz. Clive ordered again; the man apparently flush with money. He’d taken care of them all for the whole night. Breakfast was English: eggs, bacon, sausage, grilled tomato, toast, mushrooms and a pot of tea. The five scoffed down the food with barely a word spoken.
“Blimey, it’s nearly six in the morning!” Millie exclaimed, for the first time aware of the hour.
Duke pulled out a packet of pills from his inside pocket, passing one across to Billy Boy before lobbing the pack to Clive.
“What’s that?” Penny said, a little concerned.
“Speed,” Clive said, popping a tablet in his mouth as he reached for a glass of water, before passing the bag to Penny. “Try one. It makes last night seem like nothing.”
Millie reached across Penny and took the bag herself.
“Millie?” Penny said, but Millie was already popping one of the white tablets into her mouth.
“You wanted to do it properly, didn’t you?” Millie said, passing the bag to Penny. With all eyes on her, Penny took a tablet from the pack and swallowed it with the last of her tea.
“To do it all properly, is it?” Clive said, standing up as Duke covertly pushed the bag of drugs back into his pocket. “In that case, let's go,” and he headed back outside.
Penny could already feel the effects of the drug working through her body, each sound acute. She felt more awake than she had ever felt, her aches from a night of dancing suddenly gone. She felt like she could dance all over again.