Wildest of All

by P. K . Lynch

  Of course she didn’t have trouble with that. What was she, a child?

  He couldn’t be distracted with a stream of texts or non-business related emails. All his focus had to be on his businesses. He was doing it for her. Did she understand?

  Of course she understood, though she didn’t voice her surprise. She didn’t realise he considered them to be a long-term thing. But yes, she understood. She was grateful and only wanted to help in whatever way she could.

  She was his eyes on the club front. He trusted Jason but it would be useful for her to keep a watchful eye.,

  Anything he wanted, she told him. Anything at all.

  He wanted her to attend two extra club nights through the week, so she did, and somehow managed into her day job as well, too tired to care any more about what Hazel might think of her, or what she could be telling other people. She patrolled the call floor in a zombified state, no longer noticing if people were late back from breaks, or took too many toilet breaks. When Tony pulled her up for being late herself, she shrugged and walked past him. Somewhere in the muddled depths of her mind she rationalised that Pascal was equal with Tony, and as Pascal was the one making her late, they had no right to expect the usual standard of work from her.

  One day she nipped out to have a smoke and found Hazel leaning against the wall in their usual spot down the lane. Hazel turned her back as Sissy approached, which Sissy reacted to with a wave of paranoia. It was only as she got closer she realised Hazel was crying. Automatically, she opened her arms and wrapped them around the older woman, half expecting to be shrugged off, but Hazel allowed herself to be held.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Hazel, awkwardly extricating herself after a moment or two. She sniffed and wiped her face with the end of her cardigan sleeve.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Sissy, doubtfully.

  Hazel screwed her face up and shook her head.

  ‘It’s silly,’ she said. ‘Nothing important.’

  ‘It looks important,’ Sissy said. ‘Important enough to be crying over.’

  Hazel shook her head even more vigorously. ‘It’s nothing. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s just my little grandson’s first birthday. My boy, he lives in Cornwall, you know?’

  Sissy nodded. She’d heard all about Hazel’s son, the carpenter with a surfboard, Hazel’s pride and joy.

  ‘It’s just, I can’t get down there as often as I’d like. They sent me a picture, look.’

  Hazel lifted her phone to show Hazel a handsome, smiling man holding a laughing blonde baby.

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ Sissy obliged. ‘The baby, I mean. I mean your son’s alright too but… ‘

  Hazel laughed. ‘That’s okay, I understand. I’m just having a moment, really, Sissy. I miss them, that’s all.’

  ‘Why don’t you go down and see them then?’ asked Sissy.

  Hazel’s face tightened and she sighed. ‘Why do we not do anything, love? Money. I can’t afford to take the time off. My voice-over stuff’s been pretty quiet of late. Hey ho. That’s the way it is sometimes. It’ll change. It always does.’

  She gazed down at the photograph. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m used to this sort of thing. I’ll see him eventually, once I get a few pennies put by.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ Sissy said. ‘You’ll get down there in no time. I’ve been putting you down for extra shifts.’

  ‘I know you have, darling. I’m grateful. Anyway, time for me to get back up. Could do without a lecture from Tony today.’ She gave Sissy a warm, genuine smile. ‘Thanks for listening, treasure. That was really helpful.’

  Sissy watched her walk away, feeling a bloom of pride. She wished she could do more, and then realised she could. She hurried down to the main road and found a cash-point, where she withdrew £350.

  Powered by the conviction of doing good, she ran back to the office and breathlessly put the money down in front of Hazel, who was in the middle of a call. Hazel broke off her sentence and looked from the cash up to Sissy in slack-jawed wonder.

  Sissy laid her hand on Hazel’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s a gift,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t say anything about it.’

  For the rest of the afternoon she was buoyant. Even Tony commented on her improved mood, and word went round that Sissy was sharp again on anyone late back from break.

  Hazel cornered her in the crowded staff room at the end of the shift, just as everyone was collecting their bags and coats. Seemingly oblivious to her audience, she brandished the money in Sissy’s face.

  ‘What the hell’s this? I’m not a charity case, you know.’

  ‘I know you’re not,’ Sissy replied, stunned by Hazel’s aggression. Over Hazel’s shoulder she saw people look at them.

  ‘So you can keep your money, Little Miss High and Mighty.’

  Hazel shoved the money into Sissy’s chest. The notes fluttered around her and scattered across the floor. Sissy fell immediately to her knees and began to gather them up.

  ‘I was only trying to help,’ she called, but Hazel had gone. Sniggers came from a group in the corner.

  ‘What you all looking at?’ she scowled, feeling heat rise across her cheeks. Everyone returned to the business of readying themselves to leave. She scurried around, picking notes up from between bad-smelling trainers – trainers which were on the feet of people who made no move to help her; people who were beneath her, dull people who were doing nothing with their lives.

  ‘Fuck off,’ she told them. ‘Go on, get out.’

  Somebody tried to cover their laugh with a cough.

  ‘Fuck off, I said!’ she cried. ‘Go on. Get out, get out, get out!’

  An explosion of laughter and they sauntered away, leaving Sissy on her knees, clutching her money messily between two shaking hands.

  She didn’t know what she had done wrong, or why people could be so touchy about money, something which, after all, was only a social construct, according to her dad. Surely it was abundantly clear that she could afford to give it away? Maybe Hazel thought she was showing off about her wealth. Sissy dismissed this thought almost as soon as it arrived. She wasn’t wealthy, after all, she was only lucky enough not to be living rent-free. Something Hazel would no doubt disapprove of.

  The longer she thought about it, the more she began to wonder why she’d tried to help Hazel in the first place. After all, she’d been nothing but cynical and opinionated about her relationship with Pascal, she barely said thank you for the extra shifts Sissy organised, and now she’d publicly humiliated her.

  That night back at the flat, and after the best part of a bottle of wine, Sissy decided it would be acceptable, given the circumstances, to call Pascal. If she could just hear his voice, she would feel better.

  She dialled him, expecting it to go to straight to voicemail, but he picked up almost straight away and her heart soared. He wanted to talk to her. There was a slight pause, and then a female said, ‘Hello?’

  Sissy immediately felt sick.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’ the voice said, with a hint of impatience.

  ‘Sorry, wrong number,’ Sissy mumbled, and ended the call.

  She gripped the phone in both hands and paced up and down the small living room in agony, instantly regretting her decision to hang up. Not only had she forfeited the opportunity to find out who the strange voice belonged to, but Pascal would think she was an idiot for reacting so badly.

  She jumped when her own phone rang. The screen told her it was Pascal. That was a good sign, surely. He wasn’t trying to hide anything. She accepted the call, feeling her inner chaos subside already.

  ‘Hi,’ she whispered. Why was she whispering? Be normal, for God’s sake. She sank into the corner of the sofa and waited for his response.

  There came a sigh.

  ‘Pascal?’

  A throat clearing.

  ‘Pascal, is that you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it’s me.’

  The sound of his voice,
so rich and mildly accented, seemed such a comfort. She had a sensation of almost folding in on herself.

  ‘It’s you,’ she murmured, almost laughing now at the panic she’d found herself in seconds before.

  ‘I told you not to call,’ he said. His voice had a warm, regretful air that didn’t tally with his words. It confused her. ‘I told you,’ he repeated. ‘I said do not call. You were warned.’

  A cold, paralysing dread crept over her.

  Another sigh travelled down the phone to her ear.

  ‘You are a silly girl, Sissy. A silly girl.’

  She was left clutching the phone to her ear, straining to hear anything at all in the silence on the line. At some point, long after midnight, she left the phone there and went into the bedroom. From beneath the bed, she pulled out her suitcase. Inside was a zipped compartment. She opened it and took out the letter to her father. She still couldn’t bring herself to read the contents. It felt odd to have a letter that would never be read, but she clutched it to her and tried to find comfort in this small connection, knowing that somehow or other it would have to be delivered sometime.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sapphires in the Gloom

  She didn’t go into work the next day. Instead, she scrolled through Facebook and decided to message Rik. He replied almost instantly, bright and breezy like they’d seen each other only yesterday. When in reality it had been months. Without telling him about Pascal, and without asking about Noah, she agreed to meet him in their old regular in Vauxhall that weekend. It felt strange to be going backwards. Strangely good.

  She made tea and toast and scoured the Internet for anything interesting. She googled Pascal and the company name and found where he was in Manchester.

  At least he hadn’t been lying about that.

  She closed the laptop and returned to bed, and followed the same routine for the rest of the week. Occasionally she dialled into her voicemail and listened to Tony grow ever more irate as he wondered where she was. She didn’t care. She’d done her best for everyone. She was done now.

  On Friday night, Rik greeted her outside the club with an affectionate bear hug. Noah stood behind him, smiling nervously. She couldn’t bring herself to be overly friendly – he was still an intruder between she and Rik – but she kissed his cheek and allowed the queue’s fledgling carnival spirit to lift her a little.

  It had been so long since she’d come to a club just to party. In a way she felt fresh to it. Rik gave her a pill. She hugged him then, seizing him by the arms, looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘I love you. Right? I’m telling you now before this kicks in. I mean it. Okay?’

  Rik grinned and kissed her forehead. ‘I know you do.’

  Inside, the music lifted and carried them back to a time of friendship, a time when all their possibilities were endless and bound to unfold beautifully before them. It was almost like the old days, although Noah made a poor substitute for Cam. Still, she grabbed his hand, and Rik’s, and didn’t look often in Noah’s direction.

  Pascal intruded on her thoughts, but she experienced the pain as an ache of some exquisiteness. As she moved to the tune of relentless drums and whistles, she was suffused with gratitude for all he’d taught her. He was flawed, they were all flawed, but the music was there to save them, catch them, hold them, show them the light, bring them home.

  The toilets were full of guys in deep conversation, or perhaps negotiation. Sissy slouched against the wall as she neared the front of the queue, eyeing the outfits. Mostly it was tight jeans and no shirt, but occasionally someone had made an effort. She particularly admired one guy’s headdress with giant yellow feathers. He bent over as he leaned into the mirror while reapplying his turquoise eyeshadow, his buttocks like small hard melons.

  ‘No staring, rudey!’ he winked. She smiled but didn’t bother to compliment him. She needed another pill but thought she’d be fine waiting till she’d peed. She should have got it before coming in, given it a chance to sink in while she waited. The queues in the ladies toilets of gay clubs were the longest she’d encountered. She suspected few were there to piss. A door would open and two or sometimes three men came out, only to be replaced by similar. She’d resigned herself long ago to sharing with all the men in the place, though she’d never solved the mystery of how so many large bodies could fit into such a small space. Behind her there came a minor disturbance with raised male voices and apologetic female ones. Two girls jostled their way to her.

  ‘Pretend we’re with you,’ one begged.

  ‘Please, I’m gonna burst,’ said her friend.

  Sissy made space for them in front of her, enjoying the sound of their Irish accents.

  ‘Thanks. We thought we were the only girls in here.’

  ‘We didn’t even know it was a gay club. We’re a pair of fucking bumpkins, honestly. Hello, I’m Maura and this is Katie. We’re just over for the weekend. Do you live here? Do you come here all the time? We don’t have anything like this at home, do we, Katie?’

  ‘No, but it’s fecking great. Nobody hits on you all night. Unless. I’m sorry. Are you gay?’

  Sissy laughed. ‘No, you’re safe with me.’

  Another cubicle emptied. Katie grabbed Sissy. ‘Come on in with us. You must have been waiting ages.’

  They squeezed into the tiny space, the two Irish girls giggling. ‘Race you!’ Then came a commotion of elbows and hips until the one called Maura took her seat and sighed.

  ‘Oh Jesus, thank Christ for that,’ she said, letting it go.

  ‘You’re Scottish, right?’ said Katie. ‘I recognised your accent. Are you on holiday?’

  ‘No. I live here.’ Instant respect from the tourists. Sissy was proud of that.

  ‘I’m so fecking jealous. Maura, hurry up, will you? I’m gonna pee my pants.’

  They switched round. Katie letting out an even more dramatic sigh than Maura as she went. Sissy felt an instant wave of affection for them. They seemed so young. She felt protective. When it was her turn to pee, she noticed them whispering to each other.

  ‘What?’ she grinned, enjoying the stretch of her face, the heaviness of her eyes.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Maura.

  ‘Wait until you’re finished,’ said Katie. ‘You know you can rub your tailbone if you’re having trouble. Look, like this.’

  Katie reached behind Sissy and began to massage her.

  ‘Eh, do you mind telling me what you think you’re doing?’ said Sissy, not because she objected but because she ought to be the one in charge.

  ‘Honest, it works a treat. I do this on my wee sister all the time,’ said Katie. There was a conspiratorial silence while Katie massaged the spot and then through the hubbub of the outside world came the unmistakable sound of water hitting water. ‘See? Didn’t I tell you?’

  Sissy was awestruck. ‘Oh, my God, you made me pee! That’s like magic!’

  Katie accepted the compliment graciously.

  ‘What age is your wee sister?’ Sissy asked, embracing herself and rocking back and forth.

  ‘She’s only three. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she, Maura?’

  ‘Aye. A wee diamond.’

  Sissy remained on the toilet marvelling at her new friends. She told them she loved them, gave herself a shake and pulled her jeans up. ‘Right. Now you have to tell me what you were whispering about.’

  They shared a shy smile. Sissy’s tummy made a little flip and a heat spread across her face as a possible future emerged before her. She’d never considered it before, but weren’t they so beautiful?

  ‘Turn around,’ Maura said.

  Sissy hesitated, then turned her back to them and leaned against the cubicle partition. A soft hand brushed her hair to the side; the delicacy of her touch made her gasp.

  ‘Jesus, Katie. Feel her hair. Gorgeous.’

  Katie moved up against her. Both girls took a portion of her hair and stroked it. Katie dipped her head into Sissy’s neck. ‘Smells amazing.’


  An involuntary groan almost escaped from Sissy’s throat as four hands stroked her hair, a cascade of caresses running from the tip of her head to where the fake curls stopped just above her waist.

  ‘Feels nice, doesn’t it?’ one of them said.

  ‘Tell you a secret,’ the other said. ‘We’ve taken E.’

  My God, they’re just little babies, Sissy thought.

  ‘Turn round now. Give us your arm.’

  Sissy turned to find Katie smiling at her. She looked delighted. Well, no wonder, Sissy thought, with that head of dark curls and those ice blue eyes, not to mention the smattering of freckles across her nose.

  ‘You have a constellation on your face,’ Sissy said, moved by the wonder of her.

  Maura took her arm. ‘Wait till you feel this.’ She began to lightly stroke Sissy’s arm.

  The partition wall began to shake, and a rhythmic humping sound came from the other side. Katie looked concerned and Sissy immediately wanted to soothe her. She stretched her free hand out to cradle Katie’s face. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘That’s normal for here. My God, your skin feels like a… like a pelt, or something. The sort of thing a man would go hunting for.’

  Katie and Maura burst into giggles.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Sissy said. ‘Do you two know how beautiful you are?’

  The girls exchanged a shy glance. Maura’s fingers continued to trace a swirling pattern on Sissy’s arm. It felt so good.

  ‘Go on,’ Sissy said to Maura. ‘Kiss her.’

  It just felt like the right thing to do. They were unique, independent people. They weren’t part of the outside world with its petty rules and obligations. Here, everyone understood each other. ‘Kiss her,’ she said again. ‘It’ll feel amazing.’

  Maura looked doubtfully at Katie. Sissy put her hand on the back of Maura’s head and pushed her towards Katie. ‘It’s okay,’ Sissy said, enjoying her mastery over years’ worth of indoctrination. ‘You’re allowed.’

  The alarm on Katie’s face was immediate and unmistakable and was Sissy’s first clue that perhaps she’d misjudged the situation.