Disconnected

by Sherry Ashworth

  First off, I gave her her jacket, and then the money. She was really pleased to see it and seemed surprised I hadn’t spent it.

  “It was yours,” I told her. She handled the three notes lovingly. Then she picked up the remote and muted the TV

  “Can you stay a bit?” I nodded. “Cool! Look, I’ll just go and change. I’ll get you something to eat. I was going to have lunch.” She seemed excited and ran to what I guessed was her bedroom. Now I looked round the tiny room and had to admit it was a bit squalid. The carpet was threadbare and I saw a used nappy or two. I felt sorry for Jan then. There was an open jar of baby dessert with a blue plastic spoon sticking out of it. But loads of toys, enough to start a nursery. Mainly soft toys, teddies, bunny rabbits, floppy dolls.

  Jan came back, having put on some shorts and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare.

  “I’ll make some toast,” she said.

  The kitchen was at the back. She disappeared into it and before too long came back with rounds of toast and a big bowl of cornflakes for herself.

  “I’m starved,” she said. “But how did you know where I lived?”

  I explained, and she was impressed.

  “You’re dead clever,” she said.

  “I haven’t seen you in the Gardens lately”

  “Yeah. I been busy. But I’ve been meaning to go. It’s ace to see you.”

  It delighted me that she was so happy to have my company. I felt wanted. It made up for having lost contact with Lucy. Only I also felt slightly uneasy. Seeing Jan at home like this pointed out to me the gulf between us, even though I knew it was only a matter of money. Still, I wasn’t used to houses like this, to a mess like this. Then I remembered the beer.

  “I brought this,” I said, and brought out the cans of Carlsberg. Her face lit up. I gave her one and we began to drink. As I did so I relaxed more. I realised it was more comfortable in a way, a house like this, than the mausoleum that my parents lived in. Like, it didn’t matter if you made a mess because there was one already. You could drink beer from the can and feel at ease. Then Jan asked me how I’d been. I told her about school being over for the summer, about my row with Lucy.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I can’t be doing with people fussing about me, either.”

  “Interfering,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  We were sitting on the floor, our backs to the settee. Dead comfortable. We chatted about Taz for a while – Jan said she liked him. Then Jan said she’d bought these curling-tong things and was going to curl her hair. I said I didn’t think she needed to – I really liked her hair as it was. But she said she just wanted a change. She said I could help her this afternoon as Sally had taken Kayla to the clinic and would be ages. I felt happy. It was a long time since I’d just messed with someone, doing girlie things. It amazed me how well me and Jan got on. It was like we’d known each other for ever. She said, why didn’t we nick some of Sally’s nail varnish and paint our toenails? Cool, I said. She couldn’t do her fingernails as they were bitten right down. She said she was good at nail painting, she did designs. So she put some music on, I took off my sandals and carefully she put on a base coat of black. I giggled – it tickled. She was chatting away.

  “Kayla’s had this cough and Sally’s worried about it. But they’ll know at the clinic. It’s been keeping her up at night. But it doesn’t bother me. I sleep down here on the sofa.”

  “Is there only one bedroom?” I asked.

  “Yeah. But I like it down here ’cause I can watch telly late. I watch the discussions sometimes. I like to know what’s going on, the news and that.”

  She sat back and waited while the black varnish dried.

  “Can we go out tonight, Cat?” she asked.

  “Hey, yeah!” I said. I couldn’t think of anything better.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Because I don’t have to work.”

  “Shall we go to a club?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Cool!”

  Jan set to work now with some white varnish, her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek as she carefully created a design.

  “Kayla’s got loads of toys and stuff, hasn’t she?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Jan said absently, “but some of them are mine.”

  “Really?”

  “Mango the bear is,” she said, pointing to the big polar bear thing. “And them dolls. I like dolls. I collect them. And I sleep with Ewan – that dog over there.” I saw a tatty old dog with one eye missing.

  “That’s nice,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “How long have you had him?”

  “Since I was a kid,” she said.

  “Was he a present?” I asked, interested in Jan’s life. She carried on painting, talking.

  “I won him in a raffle at primary school.”

  “So when you left home, you took him with you?”

  “Yeah. I ran away from home.”

  “Did you?” I tried not to sound too curious, didn’t want to break the spell.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t stand it there. There was no money or nothing, and my mum giving me grief, shouting all the time. And she hit me all the time, she said it was the only way to control me. But I reckon she wasn’t my mother, right? I had clues, like, I didn’t look like her, not at all. Then she got this boyfriend who gave me the creeps and kept ordering me around. Made me do the housework, like all of it. I was like a slave. Angie, do this! Angie, do that! Yeah, and he used to bawl at all of us. It was horrible. I had to have free dinners at school, we were so poor. That pissed me off. My mates had stuff, clothes and that. I didn’t. I wouldn’t have run away if my mum didn’t hate me, though. But she did. She really hated me. I could see it in her eyes. I thought maybe if I ran away I could find my real mother, maybe my dad too. But mostly I thought if I could run away it would be better than this. No one breathing down my neck. I could be free to do whatever I wanted.

  “So I did run away. It was dead easy. One morning I went to school with some extra clothes and that, and Ewan, and then just didn’t go home. I found my way to town. It was just brilliant, being all by myself, not having to worry about anyone else. I felt like I could do anything. I mean, I was mad, I was still in my school uniform. I changed in the toilet, threw my uniform in a bin. I was like full of energy, having an adventure. I just kept walking. When I got tired I found a telephone box and went in there. I settled down to sleep hugging Ewan. Then when it got light, when I woke up, my school bag had gone. Someone nicked it. But it was the morning and I had Ewan and some money still in my pocket. Like, I’d helped myself before I left.

  “My main worry now was that they might start looking for me. Yeah. But Ali and Jono said to ring a number and say I was all right, then they would be off my back. So I did. I slept in the multi-storey car park with them but then the security guards, real bastards, threw us out. There wasn’t anywhere to wash or anything. And then my money went. It was scary, living on the streets. You got to be careful, have your wits about you. Watch out. Sally was really good to me. She said I could kip here.”

  “So do you have a job now?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Bar work. Some nights.”

  “Where? Which pub? I’ll come in and see you.”

  “Different pubs,” she said. “There’s some red too. I’ll use that.”

  I was trying to make sense of what Jan had told me. Obviously she was earning money illegally, maybe claiming dole and getting wages too. Which explained why she might be working under different names, and why those older blokes recognised her as Mary. Everything was falling into place now. I was sorry that she’d had such a bad childhood, and I guessed there were worse things that she hadn’t told me. And why did she call herself Angie? But that was the past. She was brave to leave home. Braver than me. Because maybe it was about time for me to think of leaving home.

  She’d painted my toes like targets. Black background, white concentric circles and a spot of red in the centre. I was really pleased w
ith them. I felt a bit scared of doing hers as I wasn’t very artistic – I was bound to make a mess of them.

  “Your turn now,” I said.

  “Yeah, wait,” she said. “I want to show you something.” She reached over for her bag, opened her purse, got out a ring. It was scalloped silver. I admired it. I was beginning to understand why Jan was so into her possessions. If she’d left home, they were all she had. It wasn’t that she was showing off – her watch, this ring were significant to her.

  “And look,” she went on. “I got my own phone now. But I got to get a Sim card for it. You can get them from newsagents.” She showed me the phone. It was a silver Motorola Wings. My stomach did a somersault.

  “Can I see it?” I asked. She handed it to me. There, on the back, were Melissa’s initials. I’d seen them before. When Melissa had had them done she made sure everyone knew about it. I gave Jan back the phone.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked her, dead neutral.

  “Found it,” she said. Her tone had changed. She acted hurt, as if I was accusing her of something. Suddenly she seemed very young, like a kid, not like my age at all.

  “Where did you find it?” I asked.

  “Under a bush,” she said. “What else do you want to know?” Those were her words, but they were dead sarcastic. She meant, ask me another question and you can get out. It was the first test of our friendship. I decided to back off.

  “It was just that I’d always wanted one of these,” I said. “They’re cool.” Jan shot me a look, then began to relax.

  “Yeah. They are.” She grinned at me. “When I can get it to work, we can text each other, like you and Taz do.”

  I went a bit quiet then. Had Jan told me the truth? Did she just find the phone? Maybe the criminals who smashed Melissa’s car window flung the phone away. It was more likely than Jan being one of the criminals. I knew she shoplifted, but grabbing a handbag like that was different. It was more of a male crime. Then I thought about the blokes she kept mentioning, Ali and Jono. Had they been the criminals? Had they given her the phone?

  It didn’t matter. What mattered more was what I should do now. I knew I really ought to explain to Jan that I knew who the phone really belonged to, and we ought to return it. Hey – Melissa might even give a reward! I tried to imagine myself talking Jan into doing this. But it all seemed wrong. It felt like I would be betraying Jan, forcing the values of my world on to hers. And Melissa already had another phone. This one was effectively worthless. It was so middle class, giving things back to whom they belong. The whole ownership thing. What the hell, let her keep Melissa’s phone.

  At that moment I realised I’d crossed over. What’s the phrase? I compounded a felony I was letting Jan hang on to stolen property I was part of the crime. A criminal, too.

  But I was left feeling uneasy. I was unsure of my decision, I had to keep going back in my mind and testing it. And there was something about Jan’s reaction when I had confronted her that troubled me. It was how she came over so defensive, so young. How old was she exactly? I’d never asked her, just assumed, because she was the same height as me, that we were the same age. But now I wondered. Because I wouldn’t need to run away from home, I could just leave home. I could get social security money. But if Jan was under sixteen, she couldn’t.

  I looked at her again. Tried to guess her age. Fifteen? Fourteen? Even younger? It was possible.

  But then, what does age matter? Let’s not get ageist here. I mean, you must be at least forty – I don’t mean to be rude, only it’s hard to tell with your shaved head. And the United shirt. You’re not a dad, are you, but you help with Linda’s kids, I know. I bet you’re like their dad. Do they wake you up in the morning? I suppose, if you’re a parent, that must be the best thing, seeing your kids all sleepy in the morning, trying to clamber into your bed. Yeah. I did that once. It’s hard to believe. I’m a different person entirely now. On my own. Like Jan.

  To Taz (7)

  Check this out. It’s a verse of a poem.

  Like one, that on a lonesome road

  Doth walk in fear and dread,

  And having once looked round, walks on,

  And turns no more his head;

  Because he knows a frightful fiend

  Doth close behind him tread.

  I found that quoted in Frankenstein, the book by Mary Shelley. I was bored, I started reading. I thought Frankenstein was going to be like the film, Boris Karloff with the bolt through his head, but it wasn’t. It was much better than the film. Frankenstein is actually the guy who makes the monster. Only when he makes it, he realises he’s made a huge mistake. And this verse is like how he feels. The monster is always following him. A Frightful Fiend. And the monster is getting closer. And results day was getting closer. The poem the verse comes from is called The Ancient Mariner. I read the rest of it. It says:

  And I had done a hellish thing,

  And it would work ’em woe:

  Because my parents really thought everything was all right. That I had sat my exams, that I would get all As as usual, and everything would be OK. So on August 18th all hell would be let loose. People I knew were stressing about results but no one had the reasons to stress that I did.

  It was hard to imagine what my parents would do. They might be angry, but worse, there would be this big inquisition. More meetings at school, decisions. So I was drinking to get to sleep, then waking at four in the morning, pulse racing, heart thumping. You knew all that, because I told you. You said to me maybe I ought to speak to my parents beforehand. I kept putting it off. I said to you, OK, so you tell your parents you think you’re gay. You said, not yet. Quite, I said.

  And then Spence asked you to go away with him on the trip to Amsterdam. I know you also had to lie to your parents about who you were going with. That’s where you are now, Taz. So you don’t know anything about what happened afterwards.

  The only person I could talk to was Jan. She was great. She didn’t seem to think exams mattered. When I was with her we lived for the moment. Sometimes she had money and we went clubbing. She knew where to get fake IDs. Sally didn’t seem to mind me coming round, though she never spoke to me much. What Jan and I liked doing was making plans. She had all these crazy ideas, about going to America, getting a flat in New York. I think she’d seen too much Friends. I’d scale down the plans a bit, and said then we could get a flat together here. She said she’d like that, the baby was getting her down. So we planned it all out. How I would leave home and we’d take a train to another town and set up there. I never meant to do that. It was pure fantasy. The truth was, I was paralysed with fear. I was incapable of taking any action. I wanted to. I wanted to do something dramatic, something that mattered. Something that would make my messed-up exam papers pale into insignificance. But what? It was easier to have fun, live for the moment, be Jan’s mate, be wild and free.

  Then my mum found out about my drinking. I suppose she was bound to, in the end. I had this system for getting rid of cans now. I’d keep them in a plastic bag in my room, then late at night – the night before the men came to empty the wheelie bin – I’d put them in, rearranging the rubbish so they were out of sight.

  That morning I stayed in bed until I heard the bins emptied then wandered downstairs for coffee, thinking my mother had gone to work by then. Dad I knew was in London. But there was Mum, sitting in the kitchen with my plastic bag full of empties on the breakfast bar. The funny thing was I wanted to laugh. I guess it was hysteria. She was horribly matter of fact.

  “I was looking for the receipt for the trousers I bought from Debenhams,” she said. “The ones I want to exchange. I decided I must have thrown it away – a reflex action. I thought I’d look through the rubbish this morning and found this.”

  “Gross,” I remarked, went over to the kettle.

  “How did all these cans get here?”

  “Maybe someone from the street threw them in?”

  “Along with the empty bottle of
vodka Dad brought back from Germany?”

  I went cold.

  “Explain, Catherine.”

  Damn. My mind wasn’t properly engaged. I hesitated too long.

  “Now I understand,” she said, her voice nervous and exultant all at once. “Why you haven’t been working, your mood swings. My God, I’d thought of drugs, but it never crossed my mind that you’d be drinking beer! Just tell me, exactly how much have you been drinking?”

  “Not that much,” I said, my back towards her.

  “The truth, Catherine.”

  “I don’t really know.”

  I think I would have preferred it had she ranted, called me an alcoholic, so then I would have had the right to be angry. Instead each of us was careful not to put a foot wrong, aware that one false step and we would fall into a pit.

  “I’d prefer you to tell me,” she said.

  “I’d prefer not to,” I replied.

  “So you have got something to hide.”

  “I don’t see why it’s your business.”

  “You’re not eighteen yet.”

  “It’s still none of your business.”

  “Catherine?” Her voice was sharp with threat. This was awful. I poured out water from the kettle into my mug, watched it turn dark brown with dissolving coffee powder.

  “When your father gets home from London tonight we’ll all talk about this together. I have to get to work now.”

  And that was it. She collected her things and went. I didn’t turn to look at her. She left the cans on the table. I remembered something Jan had said, about how she believed her mother hated her. At the time I thought, no mother can hate her child, but now I knew different. I felt nothing but contempt from my mother. Perhaps she’d have preferred it if I snorted coke, did something acceptably shocking, that rich people did. But I drank. Beer, mainly.

  Now what? The idea of having to wait all day until a showdown was unbearable. It was her way of torturing me. It was the old threat, wait until your father gets home. She chose the timing of the showdown, so that she had control. I was powerless. I drank my coffee, felt sick. Showered, came down, watched TV. I was just pretending everything was normal.