by Clare Allan
Course Astrid being Astrid had to milk it for every last drop. Kept asking for extra time off of Tony on account she was so 'traumatised'. And she said she felt abandoned as well, 'cause Tina been like her best friend. And it brought up all the other people abandoned her in her life (like, yeah . . .) and she weren't never going to trust no one again and on and on till it done your head in and do you know what I'm saying we was all traumatised, and it was me used to walk up the hill with her every morning.
Astrid weren't traumatised anyway; she couldn't get traumatised if she tried, being about as sensitive as a fucking toilet seat. Astrid was just playing her cards, do you know what I'm saying. Making sure how she got a good hand with assessments coming up in two weeks' time.
Don't get me wrong. I ain't having a pop; I mean, everybody was doing it. The assessments was like a chrysalis. Weren't one single dribbler weren't checking hisself and checking his neighbours either side to see how he done compared. And it ain't nice I know, and I don't like to say it, but every time one of them spied something normal in somebody else, do you know what I'm saying, you seen how it perked them up a bit, and every time somebody done something mad like when Elliot tried to bleach hisself white so's the snipers wouldn't recognise him, you seen them all looking a bit kind of panicked on account of they knew they was going to have to out-top him.
It was like a fucking mad Olympics, dirty tricks and all. And I mean dirty too, do you know what I'm saying, weren't one single dribbler washed so much as his hands since we heard Tina been discharged, excepting of Brian the Butcher of course been washing so non-stop his knuckles worn through, like the knees on an old pair of jeans. And I'm not being funny but some of them, it weren't just not washing, it couldn't of been, they must of took extra measures I reckon, like pissing theirselves or rolling in shit, I mean that was how bad it got. White Wesley taken a whiff of his pits to see how he was progressing and he passed out right there in front of us from the sheer overpowering stench of hisself, while Astrid stunk so bad of gone-off fish the cats used to arch their backs and hiss as she walked through the Darkwoods each morning.
Elliot smelled stronger than anyone; he smelled like a swimming pool. He smelled so strong, Zubin had to wear goggles on account of his eyes started smarting, and one day as Michael was pinning his pass on, this sniff come in with a rolled-up towel, asked Sharon how much for a lane swim.'And she wouldn't believe him,' Michael said. 'She thought he was trying to make fun of her. Of course it didn't help he was lifting weights at the time.'
By the second week Canteen Coral wouldn't serve us, said we put the flops off of their food. And they needed their food, she said, unlike us, up to our eyes in MAD money and never known the meaning of work, sat on our fat, flabby arses all day, and nothing wrong with us, 'side of being lazy, which if that weren't her words exactly, was her meaning plain as she'd spelled it out on paper.
Poppy didn't compete in the MAD Olympics, didn't do nothing at all to be honest, just sat there day after fucking day reading this book, with a tissue held to her nose. Every twenty minutes or so she'd reach in her bag and take out this bottle, a tiny brown bottle with a white screw-on cap and shake a few drops on her tissue.
'What's that?' I says to her.
'Lavender.'
'Thought lavender was purple,' I says.
'It's essential oil.'
'I was joking,' I says. 'I know what essential oil is.' So far she ain't even looked at me. Just drops the bottle back in her bag and turns a page of her book.
'Can I have a sniff?' I says to her.
She looks at me now. 'I'm sorry?' she says.
'Can I have a sniff of the bottle?' I says.
'Sure,' she says, and she gets it out and hands it over and goes back to reading her book.
'What's that you reading?' I says to her. I'm holding the bottle so close to my nose, the stopper's halfway up my nostril.
'What's that you reading?' I ask again.
'Same,' she says and she holds it up. Assessment in Mental Health Nursing it's called. Got a crystal ball on the cover.
'Ain't you finished yet?' I says.
'No,' she says.
'Is it interesting?'
'N,' she says. 'Sorry; it's just I'm trying to revise.'
I give a tut. 'I was only arsking!' I says.
If Poppy didn't want to talk no more, do you know what I'm saying, I weren't bothered. 'Cause when she did it was like change the fucking record anyway, to be honest. 'What do I do if I fail my assessment? What do I do then! she'd say, like twenty times a day at least, if not two hundred and twenty. And every time she said it of course I'd think of that thing I said to Tony, start worrying case they asked her about it, and the more I thought, the more I reckoned there weren't no way they wouldn't ask, so what I done was I tried not to think and when Poppy started going on, I'd give a great yawn and roll my eyes like tell me something new.
The others couldn't be arsed with Poppy neither to tell you the truth. They was all too busy stunking theirselves and dreaming up new symptoms. When she come out with something extra offensive, like 'Jesus! Get me out of here or I will go mad! Sweet Jesus! Please! they didn't know whether to be relieved or pissed off with her or both. You could see the confusion all over their faces, as they sat there trying to work it out, till they looked away and made like they hadn't heard.
It weren't like I minded but it did piss me off she seemed to think her getting discharged was so important when some of us our lives was at stake and she just didn't get it at all. This one thing she said, I mean I thought it was funny, but it just goes to show how far she'd got lost up her arse.
We's walking down the hill one night and right out of nowhere she turns round and says, 'You know, you should get your hair cut, N. You got really nice hair, just needs a few layers, do you know what I'm saying, bit of body.'
I didn't say nothing.
'I mean it,' she said. 'You have; you've got really nice hair. Don't be embarrassed,' she said. She laughed.
'I ain't embarrassed,' I said.
'You could try a few highlights as well,' she said. 'Just here, in the front.'
'Get off me!' I said.
'It would look really good,' she said. 'You ever had highlights?'
'Course!' I said.
'I know a really good place. Fact I'm going this weekend. You could come if you want.'
'Fuck's sake, Poppy!' I said. 'It's ASSESSMENTS! Jesus! Do you know what I'm saying!' And I shown her the back of my head, though I couldn't help smiling.
Then just two days before the assessments, Rosetta heard something she shouldn't of, and what she heard, do you know what I'm saying, had everyone give Poppy a second look.
28. How Rosetta heard something she shouldn't of, and what she heard had everyone give Poppy a second look
What happened was Verna and Sue the Sticks gone looking for proof again. Sue worn a pair of gardening gloves she bought out of Woolworths, 4.49, which I could of lifted for nothing as well but God helps them help theirselves. And this time they taken a key with them Rosetta borrowed off of Minimum Wage, opened every door, she said, 'cept the staff room got a Chubb lock. Course they come back full of the same old bullshit, everything they seen and done and all of it bollocks anyway, especially Verna; Sue weren't so bad on her own. They seen seven rooms just full of boxes they said, that's all they had in them boxes and boxes, all piled up on top of each other. And Verna used one of Sue's crutches to shift one, like hooking a sheep with a crook, and she brought it crashing down on to the floor, but all it had in it was thousands of forms, all exactly the same, just like thousands of forms, all covered with numbers in circles. And Verna said they was answer papers and the questions must of been somewhere else. 'You know,' she told us, 'exam answer papers. Like GCSE,' she said. 'Multiple choice.' Which I didn't know neither to tell you the truth on account of I didn't got no GSEs, not like Verna the Vomit with her fifty grade As and her private school all stuffed up her arse, do you know what I'm saying, f
uck her! So then they pulled down a load more boxes to try and find one with the questions but they never.
It was the last door though got everyone's para working overtime. It weren't there before, said Sue the Sticks, she'd swear on her life it weren't there before or not with the steel shutters anyway, 'cause they would of remembered that. The shutters was pulled right down and locked like the Turkish shop after ten. And the master key wouldn't open the lock; they tried, said Sue, they both of them tried, but you could see anyway it was a different sort of lock. Well while they was trying they heard this noise seemed to come from inside the room. Like a drumming, whirring, sort of a noise . . .
'You mean people?' we said.
'Not people exactly,' said Sue the Sticks.
'What then?' we said.
'I don't know,' said Sue. 'We weren't sure, was we Vern. But I didn't like the sound of it. I said to Verna, I said, "I'm going. I've heard enough," I said. "I'm going." "It's probably just Minimum Wage," she says. "Hoovering or something." "Hoovering!" I said. "Hoovering! Funny sort of hoovering! And I s'pose I'm a duchess as well," I said, "if that's hoovering!" I know what hoovering sounds like!' But Verna still reckoned it could of been. It could of been a Dyson she said. And Sue said she wouldn't know about that, all she knew was it weren't hoovering. So in the end the only thing was to go and ask Minimum Wage.
At first Rosetta refused to go. 'She's done more than enough already,' she said. 'She's risked her job for helping us . . .'
'So give her a table,' Wesley said, but turned out she got one already. 'So give her another one,' he said, but Rosetta said there weren't enough room 'cause the one she got had to stand up on end as it was.
'So what's the problem?' Astrid said. 'You's only asking if she's got a Dyson . . .'
'And if not, what that noise was,' said Sue. "Cause it weren't hoovering. I know that much . . .'
'Perhaps I should ask her,' Michael said. 'On behalf of the Patients' Council.' But no one thought that was a good idea; Minimum Wage never taken to Middle-Class Michael.
Suddenly Poppy slapped her forehead. 'I know!' she said.
'It's obvious!' Everyone turned and stared like what's coming now.
'Duh!' she said, like ain't I stupid.
'What?' we said, couldn't help it.
'A cameraman!' she said. 'That's what it is! They've got a cameraman in there. They're making a dribbler Big Brother. Voting us out one a week,' she said. She looked up to the corner like taking the piss, do you know what I'm saying, like she's live on telly. 'Please vote for me,' she said. 'Please, please, please!'
'Is that supposed to be funny?' said Astrid.
'I'll take all my clothes off!' Poppy said. 'I'll sleep with Michael. Anything!' Michael's ears gone so fucking red, do you know what I'm saying, they lit up the whole room and the fag smoke swirling shades of pink like someone had swapped the light-bulbs.
'It is next door to the theatre,' said Sue.
'They got the mirrors,' Tadpole said. Tadpole taken Tina's place. I'll say about her in a minute.
'Fuck!' said Wesley. You seen him thinking. Pictured hisself on the front of the Mirror. 'Fuck!' He was smiling all over.
Suddenly Poppy started to laugh. 'You are live on Channel 4,' she said. 'Please refrain . . .' But she couldn't get it out on account she was laughing too much. 'Please . . .' she said. 'Please refrain . . .' she said, but each time she said it she cracked up again, till she was shooking and shooking and crying with laughter and all on her own and everyone sat looking. She taken a deep breath, held up a hand and give it another go. 'You are live on Channel 4,' she said. 'Please refrain . . .' she started to shake; it come out in snorts through her nose. 'You are live on Channel 4. Please refrain from swearing.'
Do you know what I'm saying, it weren't that funny. And I reckon she realised it weren't as well 'cause as soon as she said it she stopped laughing then like total anticlimax. And she run a finger under her eyes, and checked it and run it under again then she reached in her bag for her cigarettes and as she leant forward I seen these tears like welling against her lashes. And Rosetta must of seen it too 'cause she leant across give Poppy a rub on the arm.
'Alright,' said Rosetta, standing up. 'I'll talk to Minimum Wage. I'm not pushing, mind, I'll just ask her; that's all. If she doesn't want to tell me, that's her business. Lord knows!' she said. 'She's done more than enough already!'
Rosetta was gone for hours, it felt like. 'She's been discharged,' said Astrid, twice.
'Evicted,' said Zubin. He started to laugh.
'Oh don't,' said Sue. 'It's not funny!'
'I hope Trevor McDonald ain't watching,' said Tadpole. 'I don't want him knowing I'm in here. Start putting stuff in my head again. That's what happened last time,' she said. She was looking at Astrid. Astrid sniffed. 'Never leaves me alone,' said Tadpole. 'That's why I'm here, get some peace and quiet. If he finds out, that'll be it.' Tadpole was so fucking paranoid, made Elliot, hid underneath his chair, with his sweatshirt tied round under his eyes like a bleach-haired terrorist, made Elliot look like he'd just took a couple of sensible precautions.
They'd moved Tadpole down the day Tina gone; she'd been on the wards seven years. And all that time they'd had her on Plutuperidol - syrup, I think, or else injections, either way so's she couldn't palm it and trade it with Banker Bill. The Plutuperidol didn't work, 'cause it don't, just drugged her so comatosed, her brain weren't turning fast enough to remember her own name half the time, let alone the names of the people following her. The other thing was it pumped her up, quicker than a bicycle tyre. Soon she didn't got no neck at all; she was totally round, like a giant ball, 'cept for two skinny legs stuck out the bottom which is why we called her 'Tadpole'.
When Tadpole got to the Dorothy Fish she begun self-medicating, which means she stopped taking her medication, and inside of a day her neck come back, and inside of a week her waist come back, and inside of a month she was all skin and bone but she still kept her name like sentimental reasons. The paranoia was even quicker; her first full day at the Dorothy Fish, I seen her trying to twist round in her chair to check there weren't no one behind her, then the day after I was just saying about, when Rosetta gone down to see Minimum Wage, Trevor McDonald found out where Tadpole was hiding. 'Won't leave me alone for a second,' she said. 'I'll never get rid of him now.' 'So take your meds,' said Astrid Arsewipe; it was right before the assessments as well. Fuck, was she pissed off! But Tadpole said meds didn't make no difference. It weren't nothing to do with the meds, she said. What use was a tablet when he seen her on dribbler Big Brother?
'She's been discharged,' said Astrid, again, which is three times in total she said it. And my stomach gone all sort of cold for a second 'cause me and Rosetta, we got on alright, and one time she give me this flip-top bin - like she'd washed it all out and everything - when she painted her kitchen, and bought a new blue one to match. So when I seen Rosetta walk in, I says to myself, thank fuck for that, and I don't mind admitting I did, I felt quite relieved.
'So?' we said.
But she shaken her head. 'She wasn't there,' she said.
'And it took you half an hour to work that out?' said Astrid, who still got the hump with Rosetta, on account of Rosetta had rubbed Poppy's arm when Poppy started crying about the Big Brother thing, which Astrid reckoned was aimed at her, or something like that; it all of it come out later.
'No,' said Rosetta. 'Something else.' And that was when she told us.
'I knocked a long time,' Rosetta said. 'But she didn't open the door. So in the end I tried the handle and it opened just like that. I was thinking I'd leave a note saying I called but I couldn't find anything to write on. So I started rummaging through my bag; I suppose I must have let go of the door - I did, I remember it slamming behind me - and just as I found an old envelope that's when I heard these voices outside the cupboard. Lord knows, I'm not one for listening to private conversation, so I stuffed my fingers in my ears and even started singing a song to myself but
it didn't do much good; they were so close you couldn't miss a word of it. ' "Well there's not a great deal one can do," says the first voice. Sounded like an educated man, a scholar or something, the way he was talking. "I understand your concerns, indeed I share them; it's terribly difficult. But sadly that's the way things are; one always has to work within certain parameters . . ."
'"No, I realise that," says the second voice; it's Tony Balaclava! "I realise that, Derek, I wasn't suggesting . . ."' ('Derek?' said Michael. 'Derek Diabolus!' 'Shhh!' we said.'Go on!')
'"And clearly if one could have avoided that unfortunate . . . Pollyanna, was it? Tragic business." I'm listening now;got my ear pressed tight to the door! "But you see where they're coming from," he says. "As a doctor, of course, one thinks only of one's patients, but as a taxpayer I do recognise we can't just keep pouring money in . . ."
"Well, no . . ." says Tony.
' "One needs evidence that the treatment is effective, quantifiable results, otherwise it's very hard to justify extra funding. If A, then B, that sort of thing. But we have to prove it, QED. As a scientist, I must say, I rather relish the challenge."
