by Carrie Elks
I ignore the defensiveness of her tone. She’s known me long enough to understand I’m not judging her. I’m not her counsellor, either; I’m just here as a friend.
“She seemed better yesterday when I saw her,” I remark.
She shrugs and opens her can of Coke. It hisses as she pulls the ring, fizz escaping from the small opening. “She’s barely talking to me.”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“So have I.”
I don’t know how to talk to Daisy when she’s like this; defensive, abrupt, angry at the world. She’s feeling sorry for herself, and when she’s in this mood there’s no getting through to her. Worry for Allegra gnaws at my stomach. I swallow another mouthful of coffee. It’s milky and sweet—exactly how I like it. Even after all these years I try to keep my stimulants mild. The strongest drug I take nowadays is caffeine.
“Darren’s back.”
My face falls. Darren is her on-again-off-again boyfriend, and more importantly he’s a dealer. He’s very bad news.
“Have you told Lara?” I know the clinic has to maintain patient confidentiality where possible, but we also have an obligation to make sure Allegra is safe. We’re going to have to get social services involved again. That’s certain to alienate Daisy and throw her right into Darren’s arms. It’s a catch-22 situation and I hate it, but there’s no other way.
“Nope.” She takes another swig of Coke. Her teeth are yellow from the drugs and lack of hygiene. Without thinking, I run my tongue along my own incisors. “And I’m not going to,” she adds.
“You know I’m going to have to tell somebody.”
Anger flashes behind her eyes. “The fuck you will. You’re meant to be my friend.”
“I am your friend. You know how I feel about Darren. You know how Allegra feels, too. Last time he came around she ended up alone in the house for two days before anybody found her.” I can’t believe we’re doing this again. Darren’s a parasite. It’s as though he has a sixth sense. Every time Daisy starts to improve, he comes around and lures her back again. He feeds her drugs like they’re sweets, and she lets him.
Daisy rolls her eyes. “He’s different this time. He’s promised me he’s giving it up. The dealing and everything. Wants us to give it another go.”
I feel like crying. I know the lure of promises, the hope this time it will be different. I’ve seen it so many times over the past few years. Not once have those promises been kept. “You really believe that?”
She nods, looking down at her hands. “He loves me. And I love him. It’s going to work this time.”
As I drink the last of my coffee, I wonder how long it will be before everything blows up in her face. When it happens I know I’ll be there to help her clear it all up, the same as last time. Not for her sake, but for Allegra’s. The kid deserves to have a bit of stability in her life.
By the time I get to the clinic, I’m worried sick about Daisy and Allegra, and need to talk to somebody. To Lara. She’s always been my voice of reason, a friend when I had nobody else to lean on. Seeing her most days at the clinic is one of the reasons I’m on an even keel these days.
Unfortunately, she has a client with her, so I go up to the office and call Allegra’s social worker. Grace O’Dell is an experienced practitioner; she works with a lot of our clients, and we’ve managed to build a good relationship with her. She’s a no-nonsense type, and when I tell her about Darren I hear her sighing down the phone.
“I can’t believe she’s being so stupid. Actually, scratch that, yes I can. I’ll put her on my list of visits today.” I can hear her shuffling papers. “Is there a space for Allegra at after-school club?”
“Of course.” We have a maximum of fifteen, but I can squeeze her in. More often than not, at least one kid doesn’t turn up. “If I arrange for a pick-up can you let the school know?”
“Yeah, I’ll call them now. At least she’ll have a little bit of normalcy in her life, poor kid.”
“We’ll do what we can. I hate the thought that she still has to go home afterward.” I want to wrap her up and take her home with me, instead. It’s a dangerous thought. I try to quash it before it can take seed.
“You can’t be there all the time. Remember what I told you? If you don’t turn it off you’ll burn out. And that won’t do any of them any good. You either, come to that.”
“I know.” My voice is soft. If I had my way the house would be full of these kids. But social services don’t work that way. Nor does Simon. He’d never let me bring them home.
“When are you going to come over to the dark side anyway?” There’s a teasing tone in her voice. A smile tries to tug at the corner of my mouth but it comes to nothing.
“The force is too strong.”
Grace laughs. “A few years at university, young padawan. Then you can be just like me. Black mask and all.”
“I’m too old to be a student.” I don’t tell her I tried that before. That I left under a cloud, with much more than my tail between my legs.
“You’re a baby. Your whole life ahead of you. You’d make a good social worker, once we teach you how to stop getting so attached.”
“You couldn’t teach me that.”
“Try me.”
We talk for a few more minutes and I hang up, anxiety still low in my belly. I can’t help feeling guilty that I’ve told on Daisy, knowing it will almost certainly lead to Allegra getting taken away from her again. It doesn’t matter how crap her mum is, Allegra will hate me if she finds out. I lower my head until it’s resting in my hands, letting out a deep sigh. My whole body aches, as if I’ve spent the morning doing intense physical exercise. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands.
“Um, hi.”
I look up. My brow furrows when I see Niall standing in the doorway. Is it that time already? Christ, where has the day gone?
I can’t get used to seeing him again.
“Hi. You’re early.”
The corner of his lip quirks up. “I wanted to make sure I was prepared.” He glances at me, then gestures at his eyes. “You’ve got mascara under...”
Oh God. My eye rubbing must have left me looking like a clown. I swipe at the underside with my fingers. When I pull them away, black ink is smudged all over them. “Thanks.”
His smile only widens. “You’re welcome.”
For a minute I want to wipe the smirk right off his mouth. Mr Bloody Perfect. His hair is immaculate, his face tanned. His jaw is lightly covered in stubble. He looks like a male model.
I look a mess.
This doesn’t fit in with my plans. I was going to be cool, calm and collected. I mumble under my breath and stand up from the desk. The movement makes me remember my manners. “Would you like a tour of the place while we have some time?”
Niall nods. He’s still grinning. His teeth are white and even, the same as mine. Are they real or veneers? My mind is suddenly full of questions. Does he still take drugs? Has he managed to stop?
Did he break down like I did?
I remind myself none of this is my business. He’s only a colleague, a guy who’s agreed to do us a favour. He owes me nothing at all. For some reason, that thought depresses me. I notice that he doesn’t once refer to us knowing each other in the past. We’re pretending we are strangers, even though we’re anything but. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
Starting the tour on the ground floor, I show him the treatment rooms that aren’t being used, the meeting rooms where we hold after-school club, and the kitchen.
“This is the most important place.” I fling my arms around the small room. “We have everything you could possibly want; coffee, tea, biscuits... sympathy. Lots and lots of sympathy.”
“This place is amazing. How long have you been working here?”
“Almost five years.” We walk up the stairs, toward the admin office. I wave at the staff. They seem more interested in ogling Niall than acknowledging me, not that I can blame them. He’s wearing old,
paint-splattered jeans, worn to nothing at the knees and frayed at the hems. They hug his hips in a disturbing way. “And thank you. We all work pretty hard to make it that way.”
“I can see that.” His voice is soft. “It’s very impressive.”
For some reason that kicks me right in the gut. He still looks like the Niall who consumed my every thought all those years ago. But, like me, he seems to have grown up. I like it more than I should—like him more than I should.
“We should probably get things ready in the art room.” I suddenly wish the kids were here already. They’re the ultimate ice-breaker; I’d feel much less awkward if they were around. Even my body feels weird. My arms hang limply at my sides, and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I end up balling them into fists, as though it will give me strength.
“Sounds good,” he says. “Show me the way.”
* * *
Two Saturdays later Lara and I drive to Battersea in her scratched-up Mini. It’s early enough for the streets to be fairly clear. She cranks up her tinny car radio and we sing along to the Arctic Monkeys, trying not to remark on the fact that nearly all of their lyrics seem to be about drugs, drinking or both. They remind me of when I was a student. Everything does at the moment.
“So where shall we take her?” Lara drums the pads of her fingers against the steering wheel. We’re sat at a zebra crossing, waiting for an old lady to make her way across it. She’s pushing a trolley, and peeping out of the top is the cutest little Scottie dog.
“We should go to the park,” I say. “It’s a beautiful day and she probably needs to work off some energy.”
Allegra has been in a group home for five days; ever since Daisy had a fight with Darren and ended up in accident and emergency with a broken cheekbone. She swears it looks more painful than it actually is, but every time I look at her all I can think of is how hard he must have hit her to break such a thick bone.
Allegra saw the whole thing.
“We could go to Battersea Park.”
“Maybe.” I’ve a hankering for hills. There aren’t enough in London. I miss the way you can climb high and look down and feel so insignificant. I want to feel insignificant, at least to myself. “How about we go to Parliament Hill?”
“Hampstead’s miles away.”
“I’ll chip in for the petrol.” I’m kidding. I’ll pay for it all. “I bet Allegra has never been there. We can buy some food from Marks and Spencer’s and have a picnic.” I start to get excited. “And maybe we can get her a pad and some pencils and she can draw or something.”
Lara looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Are you okay? You seem all over the place at the moment.”
It’s so typical she notices when nobody else does. I can zip on a persona like an old winter coat for everybody else, but Lara’s too perceptive. I lean forward and turn the radio down. “I don’t know,” I admit.
“Is everything all right with Simon?”
I blink a couple of times. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
She shrugs. “You haven’t mentioned him much.”
“He’s been busy at work. If he was ten years younger he’d probably be pulling all-nighters.”
We both laugh. The image of Simon staying up all night with only Red Bull for company is incongruous. “In fact, I was going to ask you if I can come to Alex’s gig next Friday. Simon’s going to be away and I don’t fancy staying home alone.”
Alex is Lara’s husband. He’s a printer by trade, but he has a band he jams around with and sometimes they play gigs at their local pub. They’re totally laid back and unpretentious. I like Alex a lot, not least because he let me live with him and Lara for a year when I had nowhere else to go. I’ve missed seeing him. Our circles are so different nowadays. He’s chilled out and cool, while I’m old before my time.
“Of course, we’d love that.” Lara has a huge grin on her face and I try not to let her see how bad it makes me feel. I can’t remember the last time I went out with her anywhere. Most of my time is taken up with Simon, either going out to dinner with clients, or hosting them at our place. It isn’t that Simon doesn’t get on with Lara and Alex, they just don’t have a whole lot in common. It’s hard work for all of us when we get together. “You could stay over at ours. Maybe we can hit the markets on Saturday morning.”
A smile twitches at my lips. I can’t remember the last time I went to the markets, either. I used to love browsing around stalls when I was younger, picking up vintage pieces and mixing them in with the rest of my wardrobe. “Let’s do it.” I sound resolute and it makes us both a bit giddy.
I’m still smiling when we get to Carter House. When Allegra walks down the stairs she’s wearing an old pair of jeans and a sweater that’s a couple of sizes too small. Her face lights up as soon as she sees us. She runs into my arms, almost winding me, and I bury my face in her hair. It holds a faint aroma of smoke, and I wonder if she’s even washed it since she got here.
When I let her go, she smiles shyly at Lara. They don’t get to interact at the clinic. Lara is usually busy with the adults.
“Hi, pumpkin.” Lara reaches out and messes her hair. Allegra’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. Lara doesn’t seem to notice, and decides to tease us both. “Indiana Beth here thinks we should go on an adventure.”
Allegra’s eyes widen. “What sort of adventure?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe hunt some sharks or kill some witches, or fight some pirates for their treasure,” Lara says.
I grin. “I’m thinking we could stake a few vampires and then have a picnic.”
Allegra screws up her forehead, pretending to consider the options. “Are they bad vampires?”
“Probably. Though if you want to be sure we could always ask them first.”
She grabs hold of my hand and practically pulls me out of the door. Lara lingers back to sign the paperwork. “What kind of picnic are we having, anyway?”
It turns out to be the kind of picnic where we buy way too much food, and then watch as the birds swoop down, trying to grab the crusts from our fingers. We sit on a tartan wool blanket at the top of the hill, and look down over London. The air is clear and we can see all the way to the city and beyond, the familiar skyline of Canary Wharf shimmering in the distance.
Days like these remind me why I love living in London so much.
Allegra picks up another sausage roll and pulls the pastry off, stuffing it into her mouth. She discards the pale pink meat, throwing it down on the paper plate in front of her. Outside of its pastry shell, the sausage looks limp and wrinkled.
“Beth?”
I turn to look at her. “Yes?”
“Why do people take drugs?”
I’m quiet for a minute. Her question seems to have knocked the air from my lungs. I glance across at Lara, who catches my eye and shrugs. Message received; this one’s all mine.
“It’s an addiction, Allegra. At first it makes them feel good, and then they get so used to it they just can’t stop.”
“Why can’t they stop?”
“Because it feels so nice at first.”
She picks a daisy up from the grass beside the blanket and starts to pull off the petals, one by one. “But it’s bad for you. How can it feel nice?”
I take a deep breath in. The air smells of salt and vinegar crisps, mixed with freshly cut grass—a typical English springtime day. “Things can feel nice and still be bad for you. Like too much chocolate, or staying up late when you should be asleep. But drugs are worse because they can make you poorly, and stop you from functioning properly.”
I don’t want to tell her they can kill. I know that more than anyone. But she’s eight years old and her mum’s an addict; I’m not sure I’m ready for her to add up the sums right yet.
“The problem is, once you’re addicted, it’s really hard to stop. That’s why we have the clinic, to try and help people.”
“People like my mum?”
“Yes.”
She chews on her bot
tom lip. “So why is she still taking drugs? Why aren’t you helping her?”
“We’re trying.” My voice catches in my throat. “But it can take a long time. And sometimes people have setbacks and get worse again.”
Allegra leans into me, and I bring my hand around and stroke her hair. “Will my mum ever get better?”
I pull her closer. “I don’t know, Allegra. I hope so.”
She curls her arms around me. “So do I.”
4
“Are you sure you don’t want to come? Drew won’t mind one extra if I call him.” Simon zips up his case and looks at me expectantly. “I’ll let you hold my gun.”
“What an offer.”
He’s being sweeter than usual. I know he’s been looking forward to his boys’ weekend away for a long time. They’re off to shoot some grouse or something like that; I haven’t really been paying attention.
“You go and enjoy yourself. Lara’s invited me to stay for the weekend.”
“I’ll be leaving after lunch on Sunday.” He lifts his case from the bed, and reaches to embrace me. When he pulls back, there’s a soft smile on his face. “Try not to get into any trouble.”
“How much trouble can I get into over one weekend?”
“Quite a lot.” He looks wistful. For a moment, I wonder if he really trusts me. Since we’ve been married, I’ve done nothing to cause either of us any trouble. I left that girl behind years ago, although sometimes—especially recently—I miss her. Simon simply smiles and places a quick peck on my cheek. When I stand at the door and watch him climb into his sports car, I wonder why my stomach is churning. Maybe I’ll miss him more than I realise.
After Simon has left, I take a quick shower and pull on some clothes. A few minutes after eight, I leave the house, heading for the Tube station at the end of our road. The platform is full of people, some dressed like me for a casual night out, others still in their work gear, heading home after a long day. It’s a microcosm of the bigger city: people and nationalities of every description, all pushed together into each other’s personal space.