Poppy Shakespeare

by Clare Allan

  'Alright?' I said as Poppy gone past, and she said something, 'cept I didn't hear what, but it sounded like 'Wish me luck.'

  'Where can she be?' said Middle-Class Michael. Rosetta still hadn't come in. 'I wonder if somebody ought to phone? She hasn't got long now; she's next after Quok.'

  'Stop hassling, man,' White Wesley said. 'She coming innit. She told me she coming.'

  'I'm not hassling,' said Middle-Class Michael (he got the hump on account of two 5.5s). 'I'm not hassling; I'm merely concerned.'

  'You two!' said Verna. 'Oh my God!' She was staring over Brian's chair. The dribblers sat with their backs to the door twisted round to have a look what she seen.

  'Rosetta!' said Sue. 'What you done to yourself?'

  White Wesley said nothing but he looked like he seen his own ghost.

  Rosetta come round to her chair and sat down, smoothing out her skirt so's it didn't crumple. 'Afternoon,' she said, and she smiled at us like nothing weren't different at all.

  'What you done to yourself.' said Sue the Sticks.

  'It's assessments!' said Astrid. She sounded suspicious but Rosetta just smiled and nodded.

  'What she done to herself?' said Sue the Sticks.

  'Don't know,' said Verna, picking a bit at this patch of vomit, dried on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  'The outfit, man!' White Wesley said. 'What's with the outfit!' He stared at Rosetta like blinking his eyes to see if she'd disappear.

  'Lord!' said Rosetta and she shaken her head, but she smiled to herself as well. 'Can't a woman take a little trouble now and then without all this fussing and questions!'

  'Suit yourself' said Astrid Arsewipe and she looked at me and rolled her eyes but I shown her the back of my head.

  I'm not being funny, but Rosetta looked beautiful. She got this green scarf tied round her head like a turban, shown off the rich brown skin of her face, not dusty no more but so shiny and polished you seen yourself reflected like in a mirror. Her eyelids was painted in blue and gold all the way up to her eyebrows, and clamped on her ears was these massive gold clip-ons the size of a pair of light-bulbs. Round her neck she got more gold too; on top of the necklace from Pollyanna, this thick gold chain, I mean every link at least an inch side to side. I ain't sure it was 22 carat, do you know what I'm saying, I mean sat there beside her you could see these bits where the gold had rubbed off and it looked sort of grey underneath, but it didn't notice. Her dress was the same sort of thing as her scarf but long and flowing right down to the floor and the great wide sleeves half-covered her hands so you couldn't see the fag burns hardly at all, just the gold rings on every finger. Like I say, she did; she looked really good, but more carnival to tell you the truth than Dorothy Fish assessment.

  It weren't like we didn't try telling her. But nothing you said made no difference. She just sat with her hands clasped, calm and smiling, listening to Wesley, with tears in his eyes, saying how she been like a mother to him and he'd kill hisself if she got discharged. 'Please man,' he said. 'Ditch the jewellery at least! For me,' he said. 'For Pollyanna. You'll never get through looking like that! You're throwing your life . . .' but he had to stop on account of he started crying. Rosetta leant over and patted his hand but she didn't take off her jewellery.

  Quok-ho gone out and we sat and waited. The only sound was the creak of chairs as dribblers shifted this way and that avoiding each other's gaze.

  Rosetta stood up.

  Good luck,' we said. My cheeks was burning.

  'I may be some time,' Rosetta said, and, without looking back, she walked out the double swing-doors.

  We all agreed how it weren't our fault, 'cause it weren't, but we still felt shit. 'It's not like we didn't say!' said Sue.'Thought she knew better,' Astrid said. 'She was trying to get through on the ethnic bit.' 'What ethnic bit is that?' said Zubin. 'Yeah,' said Sue. 'What ethnic bit?' 'The ethnic quota,' Astrid said. 'That's right, innit Michael?' Michael said nothing. 'The ethnic quota,' Astrid said. 'Black people stand a better chance.' 'Ten times better,' Michael said. 'I never heard of that!' said Sue. 'You heard of that, Vern?' 'Ten times!' said Astrid. 'That's not really what . . .' said Middle-Class Michael. 'I'm only saying! Why do you think she did it?' said Astrid. 'Fuck off!' said Zubin.

  Poppy was really upset 'cause they'd told her she got to stay another six months. 'You seem to have issues with trust,' they said. 'We can't help until you start talking to us. We're not mind readers . . .' 'Well that's bollocks for starters!' I said when she told me. 'Tony is! He knows what you's thinking before you thought it. This one time, right, there was Marta the Coffin . . .' 'I just can't stand it,'Poppy said, and she started crying. 'I can't go on. I can't get through another day. I really can't. I'll go out of my mind.''Come on!' I said. 'It could be worse. At least we got each other,' I said. 'Look on the bright side! Think of Rosetta. Most probably top herself now,' I said, but she wouldn't be comforted.

  33. How me and Poppy done mirroring and it was, it was really weird

  When we come in next morning, Rafik had already moved down. He was sat in the 'R' chair so full of hisself he was spilling out his own ears. 'Pleased with yourself, are you?' says Tadpole. 'Rosetta ain't halfway down the hill! Show a bit of respect!' she said. And she shaken her head at me and tutted. 'Flops!' she said. 'We'd be better off without them.'

  Poppy weren't in yet; she still weren't in by ten o'clock,when Communication started with Rhona the Moaner. 'Has anyone seen Poppy Shakespeare?' she said and we all said no we hadn't, so Malvin Fowler gone off to look, tugging one fat pink hand out his trousers to open the door and letting it slam behind him.

  Me and Middle-Class Michael and Brian and Gita and Harvey and Rhona the Moaner was sat round in a circle in the games room. 'Last week,' says Rhona, 'we were looking at ways we sometimes use to communicate without saying precisely what we mean. Does anyone remember?' she said.

  'Hinting,' says Michael. 'Insinuation.'

  'Which is hinting isn't it, more or less,' says Rhona the Moaner. I smirked, couldn't help it. 'Thank you, Michael. Anyone else?' She smiled round us all. Brian the Butcher looked down; I could hear him going through his sevens. Gita kept turning her magazine. 'Anyone?' says Rhona. Harvey snorted and woke hisself up, then shut his eyes again. Middle-Class Michael started to twitch, sounded like a packet of crisps, on account he was sat on a Woolworth'sbag, said the chairs was unheygenic. 'One second, Michael,' says Rhona the Moaner. 'Anyone else? OK, well let's move on.'

  Normally I would of spoke, made the groups go quicker I reckoned. Before you knew it you was back outside with a fag in your hand and a cup of tea and last one done for the week. But I got a bit of a headache that morning on account of the six cans of Tennents I'd drunk the night before, say well done for my perfect 6s.

  'OK,' says Rhona, smiling around. They didn't half perk her up, them groups; you never seen her so cheerful. 'OK,' she says. 'Well I thought today we'd try a bit of non-verbal communication.'

  Then we had to clear the chairs to the side and get into pairs together. So guess who winds up with Rhona the Moaner? Billy fucking No Mates, that's who. And she makes me go and stand opposite her, like to show them all what to do. And we're doing this thing called 'mirroring' so she starts doing circles and stuff with her hands and lifting her feet up and I'm s'posed to do it back. 'That's right,' she says. 'That's right, N. Good! That's right, point your toe . . . Now your turn!' she goes, and all I can think of is waving my hands, so I wave at her and she waves back and I wave some more and she waves some more and I feel like a total toolhead. 'Well done!' says Rhona. 'That's excellent, N! Now, everyone, decide who's leading and who's going to be the mirror. OK? Are we ready? Three minutes. No talking. Begin.'

  And that's when Malvin and Poppy come in. I ain't saying she'd been on top form exactly when I'd left her the night before. I mean, I knew she was upset about the assessments. But the way she looked now, do you know what I'm saying. Her face was as pale as a puffball mushroom, her eyelids so swollen, th
ere was barely two slits for her bloodshot eyes to see out of. 'Jesus!' I thought. ' Something terrible must of happened.'

  'Poppy!' says Rhona. 'You're just in time!' And she paired us off just like that. I mean, not even 'Are you alright?' or nothing; could be dying, could be dead for all they care, so long as they ticked you off. First it was me had to mirror Poppy. She didn't move. Just stood there all limp and dropping down from her shoulders. I'll tell you what she reminded me of: one of Mum's plants she'd forgot to water, just before it died.

  'You alright?' I whispered.

  'No talking!' said Rhona.

  Poppy shrugged. I shrugged back at her. She folded her arms. I folded my arms.

  'What?' I mouthed. She shaken her head. I shaken my head.

  'That's lovely!' said Rhona the Moaner.

  All I could think of was Saffra was dead. That was the only thing I could think of. Saffra been run over. And if she weren't dead she was dying anyway. Or maybe she got leukaemia and she needed a bone-marrow transplant. And what if I was the only match and I give her some and I saved her life and it turned out Poppy was really rich and she said she could give me anything, anything in the whole wide world, but I'd just shrug and say, 'S'alright; don't worry about it!' . . .

  Behind Poppy, Michael and Brian the Butcher was turning their hands like over and back, over and back, over and back. They done it so perfect you couldn't tell who was the mirror. 'Lovely!' said Rhona.

  Then it was my turn. I give her a grin, but Poppy didn't grin back. I frowned. She didn't frown back neither. I couldn't even tell if she was looking at me on account of her eyes was too swollen. 'Poppy!' I hissed.

  'No talking!' said Rhona.

  I waved. Didn't wave. I tutted - weren't talking, but Rhona still gone 'Shhh!' So then I give up and just folded my arms, and I felt a bit pissed off, to be honest. I mean, I'd copied her, do you know what I'm saying. And I'd give her my marrow for nothing as well! So I changed my mind. I wouldn't say no. But I'd charge her; that's what I'd do, fucking charge her. Like so much a pound, do you know what I'm saying? I'd have to think about how much. I weren't sure what people would pay for good marrow. Quite a bit though, quite a bit. The way she gone on about that kid. But what about meds? What if that meant you couldn't? Well, I'd come off my meds then, wouldn't I? But what if the meds meant you couldn't ever? So I wouldn't tell them; how would they know? And that's when I noticed Poppy had folded her arms.

  I thought it was a coincidence, but just to see, I unfolded my arms and, straight off, Poppy done the same. I shrugged; she shrugged. I scratched my head. She scratched her head, exactly identical. I turned around; she turned around; it was really weird how it felt like. I frowned; she frowned. Do you know what I'm saying! And she done it so perfect, so exactly together, it was like she knew before I done it. And I ain't being funny but it got to the point where I didn't know who was mirroring who. I weren't even thinking no more, just moving; and Poppy the same, we was both just moving, like wheels on a bike, both exactly together, spinning all over the room.

  'That's lovely!' said Rhona. We flown up in the air. We circled around the panic alarm. We ducked and we dived and we dived and we ducked. Fowler tried to catch us but we flown through his fingers. We was two wings of one butterfly. We flown out the window and off round the tower. Round and around and around the tower, higher and higher, we flown in the autumn sunshine.

  34. How Poppy asked me to help her out and I done it 'cause I was her friend

  We was stood in the toilets next to the sinks. Poppy kept splashing her face with cold water, checking the mirror, then splashing again. When she'd finished, she rubbed it dry with a blue paper towel. 'I look like shit,' she said. 'I called in at Leech's this morning,' she said. 'I need you to help me, N.' Then she told me what Mr Leech told her, how they'd changed the legislation. 'All fucking night I've been trawling the Net. Three loans, I've got, five new credit cards and practically nothing left in the flat that isn't for sale on eBay. And now he tells me, N, now he tells me, he can't represent me anyway 'cause they've changed the legislation.'

  'Keep it down can'tcha!' shouted Fran. I give her fuck off. 'How d'you mean?' I said.

  So Poppy explained me what he'd said, something 'bout mental-health lawyers being swamped with all of these sniffs started trying to pay and was stopping the dribblers getting the help, didn't make much sense to be honest. 'So now I've got to be registered mentally ill to see a mental-health lawyer,' she said. 'And I can't be registered mentally ill unless I'm receiving MAD money.'

  'Can't you try a different lawyer?' I said. I didn't really get it to tell you the truth. I didn't see why sniffs should see dribblers' lawyers neither.

  'But that's just it,' she said. 'I can't! I must have tried every lawyer in London; they all say exactly the same."You need a mental-health specialist. We don't deal with mental-health issues here." "But that's what I'm saying to you!" I go. "I'm not mentally ill. That's what I'm saying!""I'm sorry," they go, "I'm afraid we can't help." And then they hang up, mostly,' she said.

  Fran turned her radio on up to blasting

  'Or else they are mental-health specialists, in which case they say they can't help me either.'

  "Cause you's not on The Register?' I said.

  'Exactly,' said Poppy.

  'Makes sense,' I said. 'I'm not being funny but you know what I'm saying. If they just let anyone in,' I said. 'They got to make sure you's a genuine case.'

  'But I'm not,' said Poppy. 'That's the point!'

  'So that's the problem then, innit!' I said.

  'N,' she said. 'Listen. Will you help me apply for MAD money?'

  That Saturday half-eleven exactly, I left my flat for Poppy's. She'd wrote me the address down on the back of a Benson's foil wrapper and I walked along with it clutched in my hand like a little gold ticket, case anyone stopped me, asked where I thought I was going:

  'It's in the A-Z,' she'd said so I lifted one down the newsagent's. It was so fucking old the cover gone yellow and the corners bent back like a Jack Russell's ears, but that's Borderline Road for you; shite.

  I seen Tina, come out the Turkish shop, with her coat belted in so tight at the waist it was like there weren't nothing inside. And I shouted to her, 'Hi, Tina! Alright?' and she looked so panicked it was like she didn't know me, just bolted out into the road - without looking - then I seen her over by Planet Kebab, running along with her arms by her sides and her bag in her hand, to make like she was walking.

  By the time I reached Sniff Street, it was almost quarter to twelve. Poppy never give me a time, just said to come for dinner. And I'd made myself wait in till half-eleven 'cause I didn't want to be early, but now I got worried I'd end up being late and the dinner be sat on the table going cold, roast chicken, roast taters and peas, I reckoned, and gravy in a jug. Cafe Diana done dinner from eleven; by half-twelve they was out of meat and you'd got to make do a chicken kiev, with a cold yorkshire pud and a dollop of apple sauce.

  I started to run, just like jog on and off, but the forms in my backpack crashed up and down, smashing into my back with every step, and by the time I reached Argos I had to stop, take off my pack and perch on the bench in the bus-stop for a breather. There's like four sniffs already sat on the bench and four hundred more stood waiting. If the sniffs on the bench just shoved up a bit, there's room for at least four more on the end, do you know what I'm saying, easy. And this one woman right, with her fifteen bags, she's practically laying flat along it. 'Oi!' I gone. 'Shift up a bit!' and she give a great huff, started moving her bags, like I've asked for the world, do you know what I'm saying. I'm telling you: Astrid's sniff sister.

  I taken a look in my A-Z. There was five Rowan Walks in the list at the back but none of them weren't my one. Course I didn't know that till I'd looked them all up, which every time I turned a page - ain't my fault I got elbows, is it!- Astrid starts huffing and giving me daggers, and even the sniff on my other side, this black sniff with a kid on her lap and a fold-up pushchair
and half of Kwik Save in carrier bags hanging off of it, she shifts her arse three foot down the bench, do you know what I'm saying, like pardon me for breathing.

  So then I looked up Borderline Road, and I found that alright with Sniff Street running into it. But what they'd done was they'd cut it off. You know Borderline Road gone round in a circle, like a moat all around the Darkwoods? Well they didn't show none of that at all; all they shown was the bottom bit just under the top of the page. There was a little blue box, said 77 and triangle, meant to go to page 77. But when you gone to page 77, there was Borderline Road at the bottom, like just the very top of the circle before it got cut off. And the box said go to page 48, and page 48 was where you just come from but the Darkwoods weren't there neither. And it was like they'd missed a whole page out, the page where the Darkwoods ought to of been and Rowan Walk and the Abaddon, but none of it weren't there.

  Maps ain't much use anyway; unless you know the scale, which I never. I mean if Sniff Street's maybe six inches long from Borderline Junction down, that could be a fifteen minute walk and it could be the other side of the world. I mean, literally; I seen fucking Australia closer than that in the atlas at school, which like how you supposed to know?

  I lit up a fag, 'Do you mind?' says Astrid. 'No,' I said.

  And I would of stayed just to piss her off, except I was worried about the time, so I made sure I give her a faceful as I left.

  You didn't even need a map anyway, it was all like Poppy had said, right down to the three Rumanians stood on the corner selling fags, the school, the newsagent's opposite, and after that you gone left. They was smart houses, none of that council shit, some of them only got one bell, and the cars was like new with parking badges and baby seats inside. This woman was unloading Tesco's bags out the boot of one of the cars and this little kid like helping her. 'Keep it upright, Sam!' she gone. 'Keep it upright; that's Charlie's cake.' And I'm waiting for him to fall flat on his face but he never, just vanished inside.