Oleander Soul

by James Arklie

  ‘I am referring your case to Welfare. I have concerns that Lily is not being cared for properly and…’

  Ollie heard the banshee scream inside her head and she was on her feet and yelling. ‘Are you seeing me? Are you bloody-well hearing me? Can’t you see the problems I have holding our lives together. Eighty-percent attendance is a bloody miracle.’

  * * *

  The second meeting was with Welfare.

  Ollie sat in front of the Welfare counter knowing from past experience that they wouldn’t help, but guilt making her go through the motions. She also knew the call was the result of either the meeting with the deputy head or Rose Orbison and if she didn’t go it would make things worse.

  ​On the other side of the raised perspex shield was a woman of about twenty-five. She was bright, clean, enthusiastic and was determined to try and do something for Ollie. But the more she tried the more Ollie got annoyed because the more they went round in circles. Ollie was starting to see them more as decreasing spirals that led to a pinprick that was extinction.

  ​The woman, who was nameless so that Ollie couldn’t track her down and do her harm, had a pen that flickered across some papers. This pen was blue.

  ​‘Right. I will call Housing to find you somewhere to live.’ She looked up and at the clock. ‘But it won’t happen today, I’m afraid.’

  ​Ollie sat impassively. It never happened any day.

  ​A turn of the page and another scrawl. ‘Right. You’re entitled to some payments. I will contact Social.’

  ​Ollie was getting bored and she had to make sure she was at the school gate on time which meant she had to leave. Each throb of pain in her head was like an explosion.

  ‘Look. Social won’t pay me any money because I don’t have a bank account.’

  ‘Right. Why not? Everybody…’

  ‘Not ‘everybody’ because I don’t. They closed it because it didn’t have any money in it. Guess why that was?’

  ‘Right. Well surely you can open….’

  ‘No one listens do they. No one listens anymore. All they do is look at their bloody expensive iPads and phones, reading what they want to read and being fed only the stuff they want to read by the sodding algorithms they agree to without realising they are agreeing to them. Blinkered, so they don’t see me, because they’ve filtered me out of their sodding lives. I’m the irritant they don’t want to see.’

  The woman left a short silence then asked again with raised eyebrows,

  ‘Bank account?’

  Ollie sighed with patience that reached to infinity and beyond.

  ‘I can’t open a bank account because I don’t have a passport and I can’t get a passport because firstly, I can’t afford the cost and secondly, I have no fixed abode. And I have to prove I live somewhere by producing a copy of a utility bill less than three months old. I have never had the money to pay for gas or electric and as for living somewhere for three months, that would be like going on holiday to the Caribbean to me.’

  ‘Right. Well, we can arrange cash.’

  ‘You’re not listening and you’re not reading and understanding. They won’t give me cash because of my history of drink, drugs and gambling. They think I will go straight down the pub and blow the lot on one multiple, crazy, addictive high.’

  Ollie sat forward and jabbed her finger at the low perspex partition between them. ‘So, stop hiding behind that bloody screen and start understanding.’

  The perspex rattled as they glared at one another. This is them and us, thought Ollie. Same old. Them with everything and us with sweet FA.

  ‘Right. So, where’s Lily’s father?’

  God, she wished the woman would stop beginning every sentence with ‘right’.

  ’How the hell do I know? He’s pissed off. Run away from his responsibilities. Like eighty percent of all the other men in the same position.’

  ‘You had a formal agreement with him to provide maintenance. You need to enforce it. Make him pay everything due to you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but what part of ‘he’s pissed off’ don’t you understand. I don’t mean pissed off as in upset, I mean as in disappeared.’

  ‘All the same.’

  ‘Oh Lord save me, please.’ Ollie stood. The monkey was jumping joyously inside her head, smashing the cymbals at the side of his own head. Grinning.

  Ollie rattled the perspex. ‘Look, you find him, I’ll enforce him.’

  ‘Miss Soul. Please sit down.’

  Ollie put both hands on top of the perspex and leaned over. Nausea hit her. She saw one of the security men push himself off the wall and speak into his lapel.

  The woman adjusted her glasses because she was being forced to look up.

  ‘Right. Look. Tell me what you need and I will see what we can do. I can’t promise….’

  Ollie exploded. ‘Need? Need?’ Ollie started ripping at the perspex.

  ‘What I need is a fucking life. Instead I have to spend my days stuck in dysfunctional establishments talking to a dysfunctional bunch of wankers who probably can’t do that without filling in twenty-five forms first.’

  The monkey in her head bared it’s teeth and started screeching and the pain in her brain exploded.

  Chapter Six

  Ollie was in the back of a police van, restrained, hands shackled to a ring in the floor. The back doors were open, but the grill was closed. Outside a couple of uniforms were laughing at a joke. They were waiting for someone and a couple of minutes later, Ollie heard a voice and realised who.

  This really did end a shitty day. She let her head hang. I am the same old Oleander Soul, she thought. She had tried, but in the end the monkey in her head had smashed her skull against the iron and steel of the immovable establishment. Convincing her she was a lost cause, making her reject them as useless. The way her mind was working was starting to scare her.

  DI Donna Small climbed into the back of the van and sat opposite. She raised the chains and let them drop with a clatter. Ollie looked up and Small smiled her cruel tight lipped smile.

  ‘Trying to kill the people who want to help will only get you deeper into the shit, Soul.’

  Ollie’s dark brown eyes fixed the intensity of Small’s. ‘Did I hurt her?’

  Small snorted. ‘Hear that, Andy. It’s the ‘I don’t remember’ defence again. Doesn’t help a lot when two security guards pulled you off and CCTV has you in technicolor. You never reached her, thank God.’

  ‘I have black outs.’ Ollie knew she sounded beaten. Pathetic.

  ‘You mean, blank outs.’ Small sat back. ‘Where’s your kid?’

  ‘At school. I have to collect her. I’m late.’

  ‘What is it your punters call you, ‘the Black Pearl’? Not quite sure what part of your body they’re referring to.’

  ​‘Those days are over and you know it. I haven’t worked the streets for ages. You may not believe it, but I am trying to move on and create some kind of life.’

  ​Small ignored her. ‘A weak mind, Soul. Like your mother. She slipped into old ways and look where it got her.’ Small leaned back against the inside of the van, enjoying the moment.

  ​‘The other day I looked up the word ‘Oleander’’.

  ​‘That’s sad.’

  ​‘Far from it. Gave me an insight into you.’ She tugged at Ollies chain aggressively, jerking her forward. Ollie winced at the pain in her wrists. ‘It’s a poisonous evergreen. That’s you, Soul. Poisonous to the core.’

  ​DS Mann appeared at the doors. He eased the chain from Small’s hand. She relaxed back, but the intense hatred was still there.

  ​She tilted her head in mock appraisal. ‘What do you think of her hair, Andy? Dyed blond on a black pearl. In fact, it reminds me of a black zit. Squeeze it and ‘pop’, all the pus will ooze out. All that hate, bile and badness. All the poison.’ She leaned into Ollie’s face. ‘All the murders.’

  ​Ollie had closed her eyes against Small. She was trying to breathe, to hold hers
elf together. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone.’

  ​‘Sorry, Soul, but you have. We now have your DNA on the bodies of two deceased junkies. Shot to death, not with bullets, but with a chemical concoction you manufactured.’

  ​Ollie breathed deeply. ‘What do you want?’

  ​‘Where’s your kitchen, Soul. Show me. Help yourself.’

  ​‘It wasn’t me.’

  ​It took a moment for it to register, then Small snapped her fingers.

  ​‘Bloody hell. It was Stephan. He was cooking it up and making you deal it.’

  ​She snapped them again. ‘No. Amal and Stephan. That’s why you were allowed to stay there.’

  ​Ollie shook her head. ‘Just Stephan. Wanted to try it on me.’

  ​‘Soul if you dealt that deadly poison it’s manslaughter at the least.’

  ​‘Not me. Stephan. I had to stay and watch. Then I held them when they were dying.’ Ollie rubbed hard at her face and her eyes. God, the things she’d done. So low, so fucking low.

  ​‘Makes you an accomplice.’

  ​Ollie had no answer. Weak willed? That was putting it nicely. The monkey in her head told her she was a failure. Loped around, chattering and screeching and scratching. Give it up. Let it all go. Easy.

  ​She stared blankly into the aggression of DI Small. She knew she’d hit the dark depths of the ocean floor. She felt like an anchor being dragged along by a ship, bouncing across rocks and sand, desperately grasping for purchase, a hold on something, anything that will stop the slide.

  ​She needed the hook to dig in, steady her against the wild flow of angry currents that were ripping and swirling through her life. One anchor point to hold her against this madness and maybe then, she would be able to look up and swim up and break through into the light.

  ​DI Small was waving a hand in front of Ollie’s eyes. ‘Hello. Anyone home?’

  She stood and jumped from the back of the van. Turned.

  ​‘I can’t be arsed to charge you over this, Soul. This is a nothing compared to what I have on your list.’ She leant back in.

  ​‘But trust me, Soul. It’s been added to the list and I’m going to carry on dismantling your sordid life piece by disgusting piece until I find that little nugget that will damn you to hell. And then, Soul, I’m going to send you there.’

  The Manipulator

  ‘Manipulators are usually a heady mix of liar, narcissist, sociopath and psychopath. They will not care what damage they cause to achieve their goals’.

  Chapter Seven

  ​Ollie headed off to collect Lily from school, stretching aches in her body. She must have fought the two guards and they had responded in kind.

  ​On the way she took a call from Saran who was checking to see if Welfare had been in touch. Ollie told her the violent outcome.

  ​Saran just took it in her stride. ‘Okay, Sweets. Back-up plan. I made a call to that refuge out in Shoreditch. They may have space for you both tonight. I’m also going to try a Housing Association in Bermondsy. I have a contact there. I’d invite you home, but my partner…well, we’re having issues.’

  ​Ollie held Lily’s hand as they wandered into the women’s refuge. She felt the tiny grip tighten in hers. They’d stayed here before, even though it wasn’t really a place for Ollie. This was a place where women who’d suffered violence could run to and hide. Equally important, there was access to volunteer doctors and nurses who would ensure they were patched up correctly. Usually before dragging themselves out and back to receive further beatings. Counsellors dropped in to try and break them out of the vicious cycle of their shit lives.

  ​There was no space for her. She managed to scrounge tea and toast for them both. While they ate her mobile rang.

  ​It was an ex-punter from her street days. She was surprised by his call and her automatic response these days was ‘no’. She didn’t want to go back to that. But she paused, looked around her, down at Lily and smelt the opportunity of a way out for tonight.

  ​The woman who ran the hostel, Amy, raised a questioning eyebrow as Ollie and Lily departed. Ollie didn’t even try and lie.

  ​‘Old punter from days gone by. But we’ll get a roof and to eat.’ She shrugged and got a hug. Amy knew it, you do what you can and what you have to do.

  ​As they left Amy pulled a mobile from her apron and waved it. ‘If you get really desperate try Joanna Johnson at the Red Brick Café. Helped us out before and you know her….’

  ​They walked out into the late afternoon sunshine and Lily asked where they were going.

  ​‘Just around the corner to Shoreditch, love. It’s a treat. Remember that nice hotel where we had dinner once. The Hoxton?’

  ​Lily brightened at the memory. ‘Cheeseburger and fries and then ice cream.’

  ​‘That’s the one. Well, a friend of mine has booked us a room there for tonight. So, later we can have dinner together and in the morning I’ll order up breakfast in bed and we can watch TV. How about that?’

  ​The change in Lily’s demeanor was instant. Quiet to chatty. Lethargic to energetic. This is what it’s like, thought Ollie. To have the money to treat your children. Give them a normal life in normal surroundings and the odd treat like this. She’d taken Lily for a day out in Brighton once, but only because she’d found a handbag with a purse in it and emptied the purse.

  ​She paused at the entrance to the Hoxton and took a deep breath. Preparing herself to face the man she had to spend the evening with. He might be a lawyer who had defended her, but he was more than that. He was a dangerous ex-predator, ex-stalker, who’d only backed off when Ollie had called in some favours from men harder than him.

  ​His name was Mark Anderson and the last time he’d been in her life he’d wanted to possess her.

  ​Totally.

  Chapter Eight

  ​It was five pm when Ollie settled Lily into their room. She showed her how to operate the TV remote and where to dial zero for reception in an emergency. This was God-awful parenting, but it was the best parenting Ollie could provide.

  ​Ollie’s offer to Mark Anderson had been simple and played on his infatuation for her. Two rooms at the Hoxton. One where they can be together until eight pm. A second, prepaid, where she can leave Lily and to include dinner and breakfast. As an afterthought she added £100 cash.

  ​He’d agreed without hesitation, which worried her. As did the stress in his voice. ‘It will be great to see you again, Ollie. I’m desperate and I need to talk to someone who understands.’

  ​Mark Anderson was more than stressed. He was as tense and bouncy as a ball of rubber bands. He was in his suit with shirt open at the neck. He was also barefooted and rather than lounging on the bed waiting for her, he was pacing the room.

  ​‘Ollie. Thank God.’

  ​In just one year his dark hair had gone grey at the temples. His lean figure was now thin, which made his face lined and gaunt. Three empty miniatures and a half-finished bottle of red wine were on the side.

  ​He hugged her and forced his mouth hungrily onto hers. Ollie allowed the kiss then gently eased herself back in his grip. Her eyes slid to the empty bottles.

  ​‘Shit, Ollie, I’m screwing up my life. Screwed it already, actually. It’s too late for me to go back now.’ He let her go and went and poured two glasses of wine.

  ​Ollie pretended to sip, then put her glass down, fighting the craving that immediately consumed her. ‘Your partner?’

  ​He didn’t answer, just drained the glass of wine. Ollie stepped in close again. Give him what he wants, what he thinks he needs. Tender loving care. Listen, sooth, shag, console and get the hell out.

  ​She took the glass from him and spoke softly. ‘Enough for now.’

  ​He gave the laugh again. ‘No worries down there, Ollie. Double dose of Viagra. I need it. Just forty and I can’t keep a hard on.’

  ​An hour later, he raised himself above her on one elbow and ran a finger through her blond hair.
Then he traced her jaw line and onto her breasts where he drew gentle circles around her nipples and smiled as they became erect.

  ​‘God, I need you, Ollie. My own black pearl. I need you to run away with me. Help me escape the nightmare I’ve got myself into.’

  ​‘Mark. You know I can’t….’

  ​‘I’ve got plans for us, Ollie. South America. No one will find us. Me and you and the world.’

  ​He licked one of her nipples. Ollie shivered, wishing she’d never agreed to this.

  ​‘You have to come with me, Ollie. Soon. Before the people I’ve upset kill me.’

  * * *

  ​Ollie returned to her room and Lily at eight. They ordered up burgers and ice-cream and then Ollie showered while they waited. She washed out their clothes in the shower and they wrapped themselves in large toweling shower robes, laughing together at how ridiculous Lily looked in the outsized garment.

  ​Ollie found herself smiling into these rare, delicious moments with her daughter. And now she had some cash in her pocket, so in the morning she would take Lily clothes shopping, to buy real clothes, new clothes, their own clothes.

  ​Primark, cake and coffee and late to school. But sod it. A chance at a few hours of a normal, loving, spoiling, relationship with her daughter. Mother and daughter shopping and laughing. Relaxed and together.

  ​Later, with Lily snuggled up and asleep in one arm Ollie wondered about Mark’s comments. It was clear he believed his life was in danger, but that was all he would say. Except trying to hatch plans as to how they could disappear to South America together.

  ​Her sleepy mind flickered to Saran’s comments. Kill the demon that has created you. Your father. Only then will you be able to let go and start again. Had he been the demon that created her? She wasn’t so sure. The contentment she felt now was how she wanted her life to be, imagined it would be. It was the way she had dreamed it would be when she was younger. The lives she saw on TV and in films and read in magazines. The stories of love, inherited from singing along with her mother, that she heard in the words of her beloved Motown music.