Cold Bath Lane

by Lorna Dounaeva

  One time, when Sam was out at work, he called out for me, waking me from my nap.

  “Mary Jane! Can you help me to the bog?”

  I ignored him for as long as I could, but he kept on calling. Finally, I stomped down the stairs.

  “She ain’t here,” I said fiercely. “She ain’t here because you killed her.”

  I stood right in front of him, so close I could smell the foulness of his breath.

  “Why are you so cruel to me?” he sobbed. “A poor old bloke like me? What have I ever done?”

  He wasn’t even that old, really. Years of drinking had done a number on his skin, and the whites of his eyes were more yellow than white.

  “God, Dad, you stink! Have you shat yourself? When are you going to grow up and put on a nappy?”

  “I ain’t wearing that bloody thing! What are you trying to do to me, you tricksters?”

  “It’s up to you,” I told him, heading to the kitchen to make myself a cuppa. I made one for him too, but I didn’t give it to him until I’d finished mine. I knew how he hated cold tea.

  Late one night, I took a call on Dad’s phone. It was one of his clients, requesting our services to start a fire. The money sounded good, so I agreed to the job. Sam was out, but I didn’t have any qualms about leaving Dad on his own.

  “He might be dead when we get back,” Alicia said, as we put on our coats.

  “I hope so.”

  We spoke quite openly in front of him, not even caring if he could hear us. He had been a bully and now he was just a burden.

  Alicia was only too happy to be out on a job. I borrowed Dad’s van and drove to the local school. The council was forcing a kid from a respectable middle-class family to enrol there, and his parents had lost their appeal. They were now desperate, given that they did not want their child to rub noses with the offspring of prostitutes and drug addicts. Burning the place down was more affordable than sending the kid to private school.

  “Where do you want to start?” Alicia asked. I could see she was hungry to get going.

  “Here is fine,” I said, walking into the first classroom.

  I watched Alicia set the fire and wondered if our lives would ever be any different. A few minutes later, the school was ablaze.

  When we returned from the job, Alicia woke Dad up to tell him about the fire. Her voice was excited, as if she were recounting a wonderful story, and Dad was really into it, nodding his head and asking for more details. It made me feel sick, to see them getting along so well. I didn’t want Alicia to forget how evil he was. I would never forget. No matter how ill he got.

  Dad seemed to be getting better every day. He was soon able to get up and about, although he rarely left the house. His paranoia seemed to be getting worse, and he was constantly harping on about the ‘heathens’ and ‘tricksters’ that lay in wait for him around every corner. He was obsessed by it when in reality, his greatest enemies lived beside him, in the house.

  “They’ve stolen my whisky,” he wept one day, rocking back and forth against the kitchen cupboards.

  I feigned innocence, but I knew full well what had happened to his whisky. I had tipped it down the sink, before it had the power to destroy us both. I no longer allowed alcohol in the house. Without it, Dad was just a sick old git who needed looking after. No matter how much he asked for it, I kept saying no.

  Banning alcohol at home meant that I also drank less. But I couldn’t go without my drugs. The benefit money came into my account every Tuesday. I would ring the bank in the morning to check, and then I was off into town and to see my dealer. I dreaded the weeks when he couldn’t get me Angel Dust. He would try to palm me off with weed or Ketamine but there were no substitutes for the real thing.

  “You better get me some next week,” I said. “Or I’ll tell everyone you sell bad shit.”

  “You better not be threatening me.”

  He rested an unfriendly arm on my back and I felt goosebumps all the way down my spine. Sam had warned me not to mess with drug dealers, but I didn’t listen.

  “Just get me some Angel Dust.”

  “No one threatens me,” he growled.

  He stared at me, and I stared right back. The precinct was too busy for either of us to make a scene. He released his hand and I pulled away. Sam said I shouldn’t go back there, but he got me my Angel Dust the following week, and that was all that mattered.

  Now that drinking was off the cards, Dad spent most of his time reading the news on the internet. Unfortunately, he chose his sources badly and he was now more paranoid than ever.

  “They’re using the churches against us,” he told me one morning. “Did you know that? Vicars are hypnotising people, making them take part in satanic rituals.”

  “Is that so?” I said, watching Alicia flick matches into the fire.

  I had tried to persuade her to go back to school, but she didn’t see the point.

  “I already have a job,” she argued. “What do I need to go to school for?”

  “You could get a better job.”

  I winced as she lit a match and held it, letting the flame burn all the way down to her fingers. I don’t think she even felt it anymore, she’d been burned so many times. I should have taken her to the university so they could do experiments on her. It wasn’t normal for a person to feel so little pain.

  She turned and looked at Dad. “When’s he going to kick the bucket, anyway?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  I raised my voice to make sure he heard me. “Hey Dad! Why are you still here? Why aren’t you down in hell with Mum?”

  Mum was definitely down there, if only for her affair with Richard. If, by some fluke, I ever made it to heaven, there would be no one there waiting for me. So what was the point of even trying to be good, when I would never be rewarded?

  “How long has Dad got?” I asked the doctor, at his next check-up.

  “He’s living on borrowed time,” he told me.

  But in spite of all the doctors’ predictions, Dad went on and on and on. It wasn’t that his cancer had miraculously got any better. It just didn’t progress the way the doctors expected. A year passed, and then another, and Dad was still there, stinking up our home. Our lives were all on hold, mine, Alicia’s and Sam’s. We took him to more doctors, had further tests done, consulted other experts, but they all agreed that there was no hope for him, and that he should have been dead years ago, and still, he refused to die.

  38

  “Jody, come and play with me,” Alicia moaned.

  “In a bit.” I pulled the duvet over my head.

  “That’s what you said an hour ago. I’m bored. I want you to come outside.”

  I sat up slowly and fumbled for my watch, but I couldn’t understand what it said.

  “There’s some money in my jacket pocket,” I said, tripping over my words. “Go and buy yourself some sweets or something.”

  “I already have.”

  She bounced up and down on the bed, the movement jarring my head.

  “Oh, just leave me alone, will you?”

  “But I’m booooored.”

  I hated the way she dragged that word out. It was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Go to school if you’re so bored.”

  “You didn’t. Besides, Dad wants his tea.”

  “Can’t you get it?”

  “Don’t know how.”

  She never left me alone, Alicia. Always badgering me for this and that. I loved her as much as I ever had, but I didn’t have the energy. I didn’t have the energy for anything anymore. The days between Tuesdays stretched like a long road ahead of me, as I waited for my next hit of Angel Dust. Sometimes, I could stretch to a little weed to keep me going in between, but only Angel Dust made my life worth living.

  I rose from bed, shivering with cold and wrapped myself in my warmest jumper.

  “About time,” Dad grumbled, as I walked into the living room. “I’m gasping for a cuppa.”

  I looked a
t him, wrinkling my nose at his piss-soaked blanket. Sam had given him a bottle to pee in, which worked OK most of the time, but then he would knock it over, as he raged at the TV. Or, worse still, he’d reach down and take a swig, forgetting what was in it. It wasn’t like anyone was going to remind him.

  I stared at him now, my body jiggling with nervous energy.

  “I’ll get it in a minute, you old git.”

  Dad shook his fist at me.

  “Don’t you speak like that to me, young lady. I made you, remember. I own you.”

  “Like hell you do!”

  A surge of energy swept through my body, enough for me to reach him in six short steps. I must have had a dash of Angel Dust left in my system, because I shunted him, chair and all, so he faced the wall. I could never have done that when I was sober.

  “You’re in the naughty corner,” I told him, shrieking with laughter.

  Dad stood on his wobbly feet and slowly took off his slippers. He lobbed them at me, one then the other, but his aim was terrible and he missed me by yards.

  “Move my chair back!” he snarled, trying in vain to do it himself.

  “Not in this lifetime!”

  I laughed as he pushed and pulled in desperation, the sweat running down his face. He had to sit down while he got his breath back. I walked into the kitchen as he took his anger out on the wall. There was already a large crack a running up it, but Dad made it even worse with this punch. The crack now reached right up to the cobwebs on the ceiling, making a nice hidey-hole for the spiders.

  I changed dealers a couple of times over the years, until I found a bloke called Germain, who worked behind the bar at the Halfway House. He was posher than your average dealer, a university dropout. He told me he had a number of side gigs. Sourcing my Angel Dust was just one of them. He was full of it.

  That Tuesday, I was there as soon as he opened the doors. I slid onto the bar stool and waited impatiently to be served. The irony wasn’t lost on me that this place had once been Dad’s hangout. It had been spruced up since those days. They now served fancy tucker like halloumi and avocado, but I saw a few of Dad’s old mates there from time to time. Ugly, old men, who leaned close to one another as they shared secrets, their faces unsmiling if anyone happened to catch their eye.

  “Pint of my usual,” I said to Germain, in case anyone was earwigging. There was only one other person in the pub at that time, a lad who looked too young to be drinking. Or perhaps I was just getting to that age when everyone seemed too young.

  Germain handed over my bag and I slipped him the dough. I checked the portion quickly, to be sure he wasn’t scamming me, and then I walked out again, trying not to look too excited. At one time, I had been able to wait until I got home, but these days, I rarely made it past the bridge at the end of the road. I sat down on the ground, amongst the cardboard boxes, and broken beer bottles, enjoying the sense of calm that washed over me as I rolled my joint.

  A nicely-dressed couple were walking my way but, on seeing me, they turned around sharpish. Their bums wiggled hilariously as they walked as fast as they could without running. I don’t know why people found me so scary. I was still just little old Jody Bear.

  Headlights blinded me as the car drove right at me. I screamed and leapt out of the road, but it continued to pursue me, into the trees. Another car appeared behind it and both of them revved their engines, like this was some kind of game.

  “They’re trying to kill me!” I screamed, looking all around for escape. “Help! Somebody, help me!”

  I grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at the cars, causing one to swerve. There was honking and screaming down below, and I distinctly heard Alicia’s voice saying:

  “What have you done?”

  The next thing I remember, I was standing next to a cozzer, looking down over a bridge at the traffic below.

  “How could they have been driving at you?” the cozzer asked. “You’re up here and they are down there.”

  “They must have been flying.”

  It dawned on me that I was high, but those cars had definitely been after me. Or, at least I had thought they had. Another officer wrapped me in what looked like a space-age blanket. It was silver and shiny, thin as paper, but as warm as a duvet.

  “Are you from the future?” I asked.

  The space-age blanket made me feel hot. I tried to rip it off, but I couldn’t work out how.

  “I think you’d better come with us,” the first one said, leading me down the steps, towards the bright, fuzzy lights.

  “I’ve never been in a spaceship before,” I said, as he pushed me inside.

  I don’t have a clear memory of what happened next. There was a lot of coffee. People seemed to think it was the answer to everything.

  I was sober by the time I was brought up before the beak, but my body was spent.

  I remember sitting in a hard plastic chair. I wanted to curl up and sleep, but they kept going on at me, making me listen as they read long lists of boring words and talked about reckless endangerment. I nodded in all the appropriate places, and tried to look sorry, as my lawyer had advised, but it felt like they were all speaking a foreign language.

  My lawyer was a good ‘un, young and eager. I liked the way he stood up for me, ever so politely, and argued my case. He reminded me of those posh kids I had taught at Camp Windylake, with all their big words and nice manners.

  “I want to make sure you understand what you’ve agreed to,” he said, as we left the court. “So, you are willing to go to rehab? And complete the course?”

  “Sure.” I didn’t really care what happened to me, just as long as they all left me alone. I had a low-level headache working its way from the back of my head to the front. All I wanted to do was to go and lie down.

  “I think it will be good for you,” Sam said, as he drove me away from the courthouse.

  “Hmm…”

  I shut my eyes, but he kept rabbiting on.

  When I opened my eyes again, we had pulled in to a car park. I looked up and saw a great, sprawling estate.

  “What is this place? It looks like a hospital.”

  “I heard it used to be a nuthouse,” Sam said.

  I didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “Hey, maybe I should stop and get a hit of something first,” I said. “You know, like a last hurrah?”

  “Sorry, no can do,” he said, and I thumped him.

  “Ow. What was that for?”

  “For bringing me to this godawful place.”

  The mist was clearing now and the thought of coping without drugs horrified me.

  “It was either this, or prison. You’re lucky you had such a good lawyer.”

  “What about Alicia? Who’s going to take care of her?”

  “Alicia can take care of herself, don’t you think?”

  “Promise me you’ll watch her.”

  He rolled his eyes to the sky. “As if I haven’t enough to do, looking after Dad.”

  I gave him a look.

  “Oh, all right, I promise. Now, I think we should go in. They’re expecting you.”

  I took a deep breath and walked up to the door.

  “You don’t have to go in with me, you know.”

  “I want to.”

  If he hadn’t, I would probably have fled.

  There wasn’t much of a welcome. The nurse in charge handed me a wodge of papers.

  “Read them and sign.”

  There were reams and reams of them. It was all far too wordy for me to understand, so I pretended to read them, and then scrawled my signature in the places marked with a cross.

  “How long will I be here?”

  “A few days, initially.”

  “Right, well I’d better be going,” said Sam. “I’ll be back to visit on Wednesday.”

  He was about to walk off, when I gave him a big hug.

  “What was that for?”

  “For bringing me to this godawful place.”

 
; I felt an immense emptiness as the nurse went through my belongings, searching for the drugs I didn’t have, presumably so she could sell them to other patients. I felt weirdly proud when she didn’t find anything.

  Next, she handed me some clothes to change into.

  “They look like pyjamas.”

  “They are.”

  “Why? It’s not even teatime.”

  “Most of our new arrivals want to sleep, at least initially.”

  “Oh.”

  I changed into the pyjamas. They were quite comfy, if a bit long in the legs. The nurse whisked away my old clothes, as if they were soiled, and led me upstairs.

  I had a suspicion they were going to lock me in a cell, but my room wasn’t cell-like at all. It was definitely basic, but quite nice, really. I had a bed and a nightstand, with a few drawers and some books. Not just boring self-help books, but books on cookery and computing. And a bunch of novels. There were even a couple of steamy romances, the kind Mum had liked to read.

  “I suggest you settle in,” the nurse said, as I flipped through the pages. “I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

  I didn’t expect to feel sleepy, but as the effect of the drugs wore off, it was easy to float away.

  I awoke in the darkness, my pillow twisted in a knot. I fumbled for the bedside light and instantly, a nurse appeared.

  “Are you a genie or something?”

  A smile escaped her lips. “Afraid not. Would you like something to help you sleep?”

  “You can do that?”

  “Yes. it’s important you get your sleep.”

  Whatever she gave me knocked me straight out again and I did not wake up until the following afternoon. By then, I was ravenous, and the aroma of tomato sauce filled the air.

  “Do you want to come down to the dining hall?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  I stood up and stretched, trying to work out why my body felt so peculiar. I could not get comfortable, no matter what position I choose. I stretched out my limbs and followed her down the stairs. I continued to jiggle about as I joined the queue in the dining hall. Someone slopped some meatballs onto my plate and I carried it on a tray, my hands shaking the entire time. There was only the one long table to sit at, so I was forced to sit with the addicts.