by Clare Allan
'Why not?' I said.
'Saffra,' she said, 'my daughter. Gets asthma. Not bad, but I wouldn't smoke in front of her anyway. I must have smoked about three packets yesterday,' she said. 'By the time I got home my throat felt like someone skinned it.'
I taken a drag off my free B&H but all I got was a taste of burnt ash. I'd smoked it right down to the butt and it gone out.
As we walked along the queue, spiralling further and further into the middle, the flops we was passing spoke less and less and after a bit they weren't talking at all, nor listening neither, nor seen us even, I reckon. Just stood in line like shopping on a check-out, shuffling on in jerks towards the till.
'If I wanted legal advice,' said Poppy, 'do I have to pay for that? Do you know?'
'Why?' I said, grinning. 'What you done?'
'I haven't done anything,' Poppy said. 'I just want to see a solicitor.'
'Dunno,' I said and I felt my cheeks gone reddened.
'I'll just have to ring and ask,' said Poppy.
'Yeah,' I said.
'What's that thing that councillor man was talking about?' she said.
I shrugged. 'Don't remember,' I said.
'That patients' advice place.'
'Oh that,' I said. 'You mean Abaddon Patients' Rights. They're alright,' I said. 'They ain't solicitors though.'
Then she asked me all about APR and what they was for and how you could see them and if they was good or just a waste of time. And I told her they done people's MAD money mostly and sometimes housing and if you got a complaint. 'It's mostly flops go down there,' I said. 'On account of they can't stop harping.'
'But you think they'd be able to help?' said Poppy.
'Dunno,' I said. I seen Fag Ash Devine, so I slipped her two fags and she let us into the queue.
'Hi, Devine,' I said. 'Alright? This is Poppy.'
Devine nodded. 'You just starting?' she said. 'I wouldn't if I was you. Do you know how long they've had me here? Thirty-six years,' she said. 'Thirty-six years, and I don't feel any better.'
Fag Ash Devine was the most depressed dribbler you ever met in your life. She was even more depressed, people said, than Marta the Coffin before she topped herself, and Marta the Coffin was so depressed that hearses used to toot her as they gone past down the street. The reason Fag Ash Devine was depressed was she never taken her meds like she was s'posed to and the reason she never taken her meds was 'cause she palmed them instead and traded them in for butts with Banker Bill. She never done herself in though 'cause she always decided she'd smoke another butt before she did, and she'd got through thirty-six years like that, always just a butt away from death. Fag Ash Devine got every sort of illness you could think of. Her skin was the colour of Golden Virginia and when she breathed deep you seen the tar come bubbling out her ears.
'Nurses told me I had to cut down this morning,' said Fag Ash Devine. 'Nosy bastards. Weren't good for me, they said. "Show's how much you know," I said. "If I stopped for five minutes I'd have to kill myself. So why don't you tell me what's worse," I said, "killing myself or smoking." ' She started to laugh; it sounded like a kettle boiling. ' "Just try it," they said, "just try . . ." ' She bent over, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. 'Fucking nurses think they know everything.'
Poppy pulled a face and mouthed something but I didn't get what she said.
'You won't want to hear my problems,' said Fag Ash Devine, and she weren't wrong neither but she told us all the same and she gone on telling us all the way back, round and round and round like a reel unwinding, till she got to the front of the queue. Then right in the middle of her sister's suicide - her brother and big sister being already dead, and her younger brother doing life in prison - Fag Ash Devine broke off mid-sentence and stepped up to Banker Bill's table.
'It's an omen,' Poppy whispered. 'I'm trying patches. I am not going to end up like that.'
Fag Ash Devine stood waiting impatient while Banker Bill gone through each tablet, holding them up like a jeweller. When he'd checked each one he placed it back on the table, marking it off on a paper in front of him. Two he rejected 'cause one had a chip and the other the 'M' was so worn you couldn't hardly see it. Then he counted the marks on his paper and counted the tablets, and counted them both again. All the time, Fag Ash Devine stood there watching, following every move of his small sharp hands and as he counted you seen her lips moving like she was counting as well. When he turned down the tablets she never said nothing; and her face shown no expression 'cept concentrating and I reckon she known they wouldn't pass but she slipped them in just in case. When Bill was finished he entered it all in this log beside her name and he written her out a little receipt and he turned it around and made her sign it before he give her the butts. Then off she gone with her fistful of butts without even saying goodbye, and after boring us braindead with all her fucking problems, which was Fag Ash Devine all over, up her own arse.
'So what can I do you for?' said Banker Bill, and I seen him give Poppy this look up and down and then up and down again.
'This is Poppy Shakespeare,' I said. 'Just started.' And he leapt up so quick his piles of tablets rattled like chattering teeth. 'Delighted to meet you,' said Banker Bill, and he held his hand out to Poppy across the table. 'Delighted to meet you. Welcome to the Abaddon.' And he leant right across and took Poppy's hand and shaken it up and down. 'We've a good selection today,' he said. 'Minozine, Cerberum, Plutuperidol, Phlegyapam', and he shown her each pile in turn. 'All checked and verified,' he said. 'You know what you're getting with me.' He beckoned Poppy, like confidential. 'Between you and me,' he said. 'You're best staying clear of those cowboys on the wards. I've heard them offer five Minozine a butt. Five! But what are you getting? There's no way that's decent Minozine, not at five tablets a butt; you get what you pay for. Look at these,' he said. 'Fresh in this morning. Not a mark on them, beautiful tablets these. Those cowboys on the wards,' he said, 'they'll give you anything, they don't care and you've got no comeback. Here you get a receipt.'
Poppy been stood there just staring at Banker Bill but as he taken a Minozine and held it out to show her, ' Beautiful!' he said. 'Look at her! Twenty-four carat she is!' he said. Poppy looked at the small white tablet and started to smile. 'What's it for?' she said.
'Minozine?' said Banker Bill. 'Well I suppose she's an antidepressant. Stops you feeling things so much, just sort of dampens you down a bit. Try her,' he said.
'I'm alright,' said Poppy.
'No charge,' said Banker Bill. 'On the house. Just try her and see how she suits you.'
'I'm fine thanks,' said Poppy.
I thought Banker Bill looked a bit disappointed. He put the tablet carefully back on the pile. But suddenly he smiled. 'I know!' he said and he shaken his head. 'It's always the same with the ladies! You're worried about your figure,' he said. 'Always the same; I know, I know. Not that you need to worry,' he said. 'Slip of a thing like you. Have a cigarette,' he said (Banker Bill never smoked butts) and he held out his packet and Poppy took one and he even lit it for her with his little gold lighter and he never give me nothing.
'What you want,' said Banker Bill, 'is a Cerberum. A Cerberum,' he repeated, 'cause Poppy looked blank. Banker Bill slapped his small tight stomach. 'Tighten up the old spare tyre. Appetite suppressant.'
'Right,' said Poppy.
'Here she is,' said Banker Bill. He held out this yellow capsule between his finger and thumb. 'What a beauty!' he said. Me and Poppy squinted at it though I'd seen them enough before. Middle-Class Michael taken twenty a day. He got them off of Fat Florence in exchange for his Nutri-drinks.
I thought maybe Poppy was going to take it 'cause she looked pretty thoughtful, like doing sums in her head. 'No,' she said, eventually. 'I don't want to get into that. 'Banker Bill frowned and I smiled to myself. I seen what she was doing.
Banker Bill put the capsule down. It left a yellow smudge on his finger where the colouring come off. He taken a handkerchief out the pocket of his ja
cket and rubbed till it come clean. Then he taken a Plutuperidol and he sold it so forceful and so convincing I almost bought one myself and even though I had that much prescribed they had to deliver it special in a lorry. I never taken it anyway; it was bastard medication. It was meant to slow you down a bit and stop you acting mental but it gone completely over the top, seized up your jaw and locked up your knees so's your legs wouldn't bend in the middle. You could spot who was on it a mile off 'cause they shuffled about like frozen fucking penguins. No one never traded for Plutuperidol, or not unless they was after cheap meds to OD on but one time we give some to Pollyanna, dissolved so much in her coffee it thickened like soup, and she drunk it as well but it didn't work; least it slowed her down all wrong. She still spoke in rhyme and she still spoke non-stop, just slower and slurred so it sounded like talking through syrup.
Poppy said 'No' straight off to Plutuperidol.
'Alright,' said Banker Bill, 'cause he seen he was beat. 'Alright,' he said and he stroked his chin and he looked down at his Phlegyapam, like sadly, like he known he was going to lose one. 'Tell you what,' he said. 'I'll do you a deal. You buy one of these Phlegyapam; I'll throw in the others for nothing.'
Poppy just looked at him.
'I can't do better than that,' said Bill. 'It's four for the price of one. Just one Phlegyapam,' he said. 'And all the others free. I'll give you a receipt,' he said.
'What's it for?' said Poppy.
'Phlegyapam!' said Banker Bill. 'You've never heard of Phlegyapam! Well!' he said, and I seen he was looking more hopeful. 'Funny sort of a drug, really. Some people like her; I'd go for the Minozine myself.'
Poppy looked at the board. 'It's expensive,' she said.
Banker Bill shrugged. 'Supply and demand. Like I say, some people like her; it's what you get used to I suppose.'
Poppy said nothing.
'Alright,' he said. 'Half-price, and the others for free.'
Poppy shaken her head.
Banker Bill stared. 'You won't do better,' he said. 'There's not a flop in the unit could match that for value. Come on,' he said. 'Ten butts; that's nothing. You're walking away with four tablets.'
I hadn't said nothing up until now 'cause I reckoned Poppy was doing alright by herself. But now I got worried she was letting her chance slip away. 'You don't have to swallow it,' I said. 'You can pull it apart and snort the powder. That's what I do anyway.'
'It's very kind of you,' said Poppy, 'but . . . Nah.' She shaken her head.
The queue had been waiting that long by now they was starting to get a bit restless. Some of the rappers begun jogging on the spot like the shit-coloured carpet was a treadmill moving beneath them. 'Get on with it!' called Big Nose Jase, worn a cardboard bedpan on his head like a cowboy's stetson. So then the others all joined in, 'Yeah come on! What's the hold-up!' Which is flops all over, never say nothing till someone else does then everyone jumps in together.
'Excuse me,' said Banker Bill to Poppy. 'Any more of that,' he called, 'and trading will be suspended.'
There was instant silence. 'Yeah, shut up, Jase,' said Third-Floor Spence and he doffed the bedpan so it come down over his eyes.
'Alright,' said Banker Bill. 'You win.' He shaken his head. 'You win for sheer persistence.' He picked up a Phlegyapam and handed it over. 'Take her,' he said. 'Go on; just take her. Bad business,' he said. 'But there you go;I'm a softie.'
Poppy taken the capsule. I wanted to cheer. I was grinning all over my face.
'And what can I do you for?' said Banker Bill.
'I'm just showing Poppy around,' I said. I weren't buying nothing not after that cigarette thing.
'Well go on then,' said Banker Bill. 'Go on!' And he waved me away like that! I looked back to give him a dirty look but he never seen being squatted down changing the rates on his blackboard.
'Fuckin'ell!' I said to Poppy as we walked back towards our seats. 'Fuckin'ell! You know what you's doing!'
'Eh?' said Poppy. 'Oh!' she said. She still had the Phlegyapam in her hand, and you know what she done? She held it out, the bright pink capsule, like a precious jewel between her finger and thumb. 'Here,' she said.
'What's that?' I said. Her nails was like rubies.
'Take it,' she said and I held out my hand, like without even knowing, and she give it me just like that.
I stood there with my hand held out just staring at the bright pink capsule. My hand looked like it hadn't been washed for a week. 'For me?' I said.'Well I don't want it,' Poppy said.
'You done all that for me?' I said.
'I thought at twenty butts a pill, they must be good for something,' Poppy said.
'Phlegyapam!' I said. 'They's fucking gold dust!'
Poppy smiled.
'I can't believe it,' I said. 'We can share it if you want,' I said. 'You can rub it into your gums if you don't fancy snorting.'
'It's alright,' said Poppy. 'I really don't want it. Take it; it's fine.
'Would you do something for me?' she said.
'Course!' I said. 'What else are friends for?'
'Will you show me this Abaddon Patients' Rights?'
'Oh that,' I said. 'It's only open Wednesday and Friday mornings.'
Poppy looked so disappointed, I felt like it was my fault the opening hours. 'I'll show you in the morning,' I said. 'I'll go with you if you want.'
'It's alright,' said Poppy.
'Are you sure you don't want to share this?' I said. She looked so upset I reckoned she might be regretting what she done.
'Actually,' said Poppy. 'Do you mind coming with me? It might be a good thing seeing as you know how it works.'
'Alright,' I said.
'You don't mind?' she said.
'Course not,' I said and I zipped the Phlegyapam safe inside my pocket.
22. Next morning outside Abaddon Patients' Rights
The way the ground floor was was like this: first you got the doors leading into the foyer, with Sharon in his cage and the farting sofa, then there was the sliding doors, and if you turned right, the staircase up to the Dorothy Fish and the common room like I told you, and if you gone on past the staircase, that's where the lifts was. By the lifts was a cupboard where Minimum Wage kept her cleaning stuff and put on her overall and gone for her breaks. I can't think of nothing else there was to the right.
If you gone through the sliding doors and turned left, that's where you got APR, and aside of that and the line of chairs and a rack full of leaflets about all your rights, there was a door led into Sharon's cage with one of them number locks on and there was so many numbers the lock half-covered the door, and when Sharon come out to go to the toilet - got a number lock too, to stop people nicking the paper - it taken him half an hour to get back in his cage.
Next morning I was outside APR by twenty-five to nine. The ticket machine had ran out of tickets but I seen I was first anyway. I taken a chair and sat down to wait for Poppy. The chairs was orange plastic, linked together like school assembly. Mine had a crack in the front of the seat which opened as I sat back. I must of read the sign on the door about a thousand times; 'Abaddon Patients' Rights,' it said. 'Wednesday and Friday 9.30-12. Please take a ticket!' After a bit, I weren't reading no more, just staring at the letters and I stared so hard they stopped being letters and become just shapes and lines like a foreign language.
'What you got to complain about!' Fat Florence parked herself at the end of the line, the opposite end from me, and as she sat down I felt my end go up like a see-saw. Word was Fat Florence had used to be anorexic, which if she was she'd been making up for it since. She worn a big flowery dress which shown off her arms all covered in white scars like rashers of streaky bacon. Paolo taken the chair next to her, or half of it, the half that weren't overflowing Florence. 'You should try swapping places with us for a bit, then maybe you'd have a proper complaint . . .'
'Fuck off.' I said, but she carried on, so I shown her the back of my head.
It weren't long before Elijah shown up,
and he took a seat in the middle and he carried this Kwik Save bag with him, stuffed full of papers, and propped it between his legs. After Elijah come Curry Bob and Clifton the Poet and Third-Floor Lemar and Carmel and Sanya, who weren't over-happy, 'cause I'd kept a seat for Poppy. Elijah and Curry Bob and Clifton and Lemar and Sanya was all doing MAD money appeals. You knew they was doing MAD money appeals 'cause they all had these carriers stuffed full to bursting with proof of how mad they was. Every few minutes one would panic they'd left out something they needed and they'd empty their bag on the floor and start going through it, and that would set the others off and they'd do the same and the piles was as high as your knees. Carmel weren't applying for MAD money; she had a complaint 'bout Dr Azazel. Carmel's complaint been building for fifteen years. No one knew what it was sparked it off, not even Carmel no more. Carmel's complaint was a great-grandma at least. It been married, had kids and the kids had had kids and half of them was divorced and remarried or living together or living alone and all the stepchildren, half-brothers and sisters, and foster kids too;her complaint had great nieces and their nephews had cousins and their cousins had more cousins four-times removed, and to find the complaint what started it all, do you know what I'm saying, was like trying to find Eve at the top of a family tree. Dr Azazel weren't nothing to the main complaint. He was something like a stepson of a step-step-step-half-brother. But one step at a time, said Carmel, and he was her job for today.
'So what you doing, Florence?' Sanya said. She got short dark hair and a ring pull through her nose.
Fat Florence jerked her head towards Paolo and lowered her voice to make sure we was all ears. 'He's making a formal complaint,' she said. 'About you know,' she said. 'New girl taken his place.'
'Oh,' said Sanya.
'Ain't right,' said Florence. 'No way it ain't right. Paolo's been waiting years for that place, new girl snatches it right from under his nose. Right from under his nose,' she said.'But he's not going to sit there and take it, are you Paolo! Ain't right,' said Florence. 'No way it ain't right. I said to him "Paolo, you stand up for yourself!" So here we are,' Fat Florence said. 'And we ain't going nowhere till they done us a letter, and even if we have to stay sat here forever.'
