Poppy Shakespeare

by Clare Allan

  But Tony weren't the only one with a piece of news up his sleeve. When we come out the Abaddon that night, who should me and Poppy run into but Middle-Class Michael sat on the wall by the entrance. 'Michael!' I said. 'You heard the news! We got Beacon of Excellence innit now!''Short listed,' he said. 'I know. You've still the final inspection to come . . .' 'Alright,' I said, 'Michael! Nitpicking!' 'We're calling a meeting tonight,' he said. 'Darkwoods drop-in. Seven o'clock. It's absolutely essential you come. Both of you,' he said, looking at Poppy. I seen his eyes jolt like he sat on a pin. 'What's it about?' I said. 'Be there!' he said. 'It's a crisis. I can't tell you now, but just make sure you're there.'

  44. How I shown them the back of my head, every single one of them

  I weren't even going to go to the meeting, was I, anyway. Poppy weren't going. 'I can't!' she said. 'What do you mean you can't?' I said. 'I can't,' she said, 'I'm meeting Dud.' 'Dud!' I said. 'What you meeting Dud for?' 'I don't know,' she said. 'He wants to talk . . . About Saffra,' she said. 'Oh, right,' I said. 'And what Dud wants, Dud gets,' I said. 'Don't, N!' she said. 'Please. Please, don't!'

  To be honest, I was a bit pissed off. It weren't like I wanted to go to the meeting, I could think of plenty of stuff I'd rather than spending all evening sat in a room with the same bunch of dribblers I'd spent all fucking day with. But Poppy, she never done nothing no more, do you know what I'm saying; she was getting as bad as what they was. I'm like 'Why don't we go into town tonight? We could go to a club, get a Chinese or something.' But Poppy just stares at me, like 'Town?' like I'm saying let's go to the fucking moon; I'm like, 'Alright, let's get a DVD, if you ain't in the mood for going out.' Do you know what I'm saying, like bent over backwards, but she don't feel 'up' to a DVD, so I'm 'Alright, what do you feel like doing?' and she's 'Maybe I'll just get an early night.' And not just the once, I mean the whole fucking time. I'm like, 'Lighten up!' do you know what I'm saying, 'You ain't in a concentration camp!' I mean I never said that, but I felt like it. 'You ain't dying of cancer; do you know what I'm saying!' I'm like pull yourself together!

  I made myself pasta with pesto sauce and when I'd ate it I sat on the sofa, smoked three whole packs of B&H straight, and tried to work out when Poppy had got so boring. And I'm not being funny but it seemed like years, it seemed like fucking centuries ago we gone to the cinema that first time, shared a bucket of popcorn, best night of my life; now she weren't no different from the rest of them, like all she fucking cared about was getting through her next assessment. And then I suppose I just decided I might as well go to the meeting, like nothing to lose, do you know what I'm saying; it weren't like she give me a whole lot of choice side of staying sat in on my own.

  I was late. As I gone down the steps to the drop-in, I seen through the windows everyone already there. Michael up one end, stood on a crate, and this whole crowd of dribblers like squeezed on to sofas and sat on the floor and perched on the tables, and crammed in five deep at the back. There was Dawn, sat next to Robert the Cab, and Wesley and Chip and Swiller Steve; and then I seen Astrid; she never seen me, she was sat half-turned away from the window, gazing up at Middle-Class Michael, licking her lips and lapping up every word, but there was something about the way she was, I couldn't of said no more than that, it was like some sort of a stunk she give off, do you know what I'm saying, I knew I was in the shit. Then Verna right, ain't seen her in months, she suddenly looks up and clocks me. And she says something and everyone turns, and suddenly everyone's staring at me, the whole fucking lot of them staring at me, the whole fucking lot of them lit up inside and staring outside at me.

  'Uh, oh, girl!' I says to myself but I walked past and rung the buzzer, ain't no scuttler.

  It was Jike on. She answered the door, 'We haven't seen you for a bit,' she said. Dawn's tables was all piled up in the hall, stacked both sides, as high as the ceiling; you walked down a tunnel between them. 'Can I get you a cup of tea?' she said. You could tell she knew. 'I'm fine,' I said. I gone past her into the sitting room.

  You never heard nothing so deafening loud as the silence of all of them dribblers. I could hear my own tea churning round in my stomach; the taste of pesto come back in my mouth as they parted to let me walk through. 'Alright everyone?' I said, 'Alright Rosetta.' There she was, must of come down to the Darkwoods special, still in her Abaddon nightie. 'Alright Candid Headphones,' I said; she'd even turned her music off. 'Alright Tadpole. Alright Brian. You done your checking,' I said. I was only being friendly, but no one said nothing. Weren't like I give a shit, know what I'm saying, but you couldn't help feeling edgy. 'Zubin!' I said, 'cause I suddenly seen him, stood by the notice-board. Got this red-and-white scarf tied round his head. 'Didn't recognise you!' I said. 'Thought you was a pirate, stood there!' Not one of them laughed. 'So where's the treasure?' I said.

  Weren't nowhere to sit, so I just got to stand there. Everyone staring. Total fucking silence.

  'N,' said Middle-Class Michael. He coughed and pulled at his nose and his ears gone red.

  'Ain't her fault!' said Sue the Sticks suddenly. 'Ain't N's fault, is it, Verna!' she said but everyone told her to shush. I don't know why 'cause I weren't upset, but I felt these tears well up in my eyes and for one awful moment I thought I was going to start crying.

  'You haven't brought Poppy?' Michael said.

  'Ain't her fucking keeper,' I said, least I would of. I couldn't; just stood there.

  'It ain't though, is it?' said Sue the Sticks. 'How was she s'posed to know? None of us realised, did we?'

  'She's right,' said Rosetta.

  Astrid tutted.

  'I'm not sure,' said Verna. 'I thought there was something.'

  'It was obvious!' said Astrid. 'I knew it. The way she waltzed in with her nose in the air. I said to myself, "Steer clear of that!" It's just a pity . . .'

  'Hold on!' said Rosetta. 'You really can't blame N!'

  But Astrid Arsewipe said she could, and what was more than that she would, and what was more than either of them she weren't about to be told what to do by a fucking flop thanks very much! Which gone down about how you might expect and inside of around two seconds flat, the whole room's scrapping and hurling crap, slippers and trainers and mugs of tea — a Big Mac Happy Meal flown past my nose — being about half for and half against whatever it was they was scrapping about: me, I suppose, at the end of the day, not that none of them couldn't remember.

  The weird thing was the longer I stood there, the more I just didn't give a shit. I don't want to sound ungrateful or nothing, fact sometimes that worries me a bit, like Rosetta and Sue, do you know what I'm saying, but the fact of it was that the longer I stood there, and Middle-Class Michael coughing and stamping - 'This is no way to conduct a meeting. I must ask you to control yourselves' — I felt the tears dried up from my eyes and then suddenly, it was only a moment, it was like I risen above them all, and I mean that literal, 'risen above'. My feet, they stayed where they was, by the crate, splintered it was now from Michael's stamping, but the rest of me, it was like I grown, like all in an instant as tall as the sky and I'm looking down and I can't hardly see them, like ants scrapping over a couple of crumbs and taller until I can't see them at all and the whole of the Darkwoods the size of my fist, and the tower, one finger, 'Up yours!' in the middle.

  Then just as quick I'm back down to myself, normal size, in my trainers, and Michael's explaining all about Poppy and everyone's quiet, 'cept a tatty old slipper, a Coke can and two MAD money forms, still flying back and forth till they's evens.

  Looking back, I fucked some things up. Maybe I fucked a lot of things up. My whole life even, except for the parts what hadn't already been fucked up for me before I was even born. But if there's one thing I'm proud of, still to this day, if there's one thing I want them to play at the end, do you know what I'm saying, like my Big Brother highlights, it's when I walked out of that drop-in. I turned round. Never said one single word. I waited till Michael had finished his bit, then I turned round
and shown him the back of my head. I could feel them all waiting, like holding their breath, and I walked, didn't look, just walked straight out the door, and I shown them all the back of my head, and I turned and I walked down the tunnel of tables, heard Jike behind me: 'N,' she said. And I shown her the back of my head and all, then I opened the door and gone out.

  By the time I reached Poppy's it must of been midnight, or maybe even later. I know it was after one when the ambulance come.

  In between, I'd been walking about, not going nowhere special, just walking about. I maybe gone in a couple of pubs, but mostly I just kept walking. Eventually I wound up on Borderline Road and I kept walking on and on. It was cold. I walked fast. Started raining a bit. I remember the feel of the wet on my face and the street lights reflecting off the shiny pavement. And all the time just this one single word, I kept on repeating it over and over, turning it round and around in my mouth, like chewing gum, till it lost all flavour, over and over and round and around, till it didn't got no meaning, just a series of sounds, and I kept on repeating it, 'Normal. Normal. Normal.'

  An hour gone by, maybe two, even three; I was just at the bottom of Abaddon Hill where it crosses Borderline Road and turns into Sniff Street. 'Fuckin'ell girl!' I says to myself, like snapping out of a trance. 'How many times you crossed over this junction! You must of walked round that hill seventy times! Do you know what I'm saying!' I said to myself. 'I thought you was getting shorter!' And I laughed; I did. I laughed so loud, that gum I'd been chewing shot out of my mouth, done this massive arc over Borderline Road and stuck to the window of Leech's. Which if you don't believe me, you can still see it now; if you stand and look up outside Cafe Diana at the blue plastic letters transferred on the glass, first 'O' of 'SOLICITORS', bang in the middle: bull's-eye.

  Then without even really thinking about it, instead of crossing Abaddon Hill I done a left, over Borderline Road, and set off down Sniff Street for Poppy's. I don't know if all of that going round and round, it done something weird or what - like winding up one of them Happy Meal toys - but all of a sudden I'm wanting to skip and I can't see no reason why not to start skipping, so I do, and I'm laughing and skipping along and I ain't even out of breath, know what I'm saying, and I run a bit too, and my body feels light and I know I could run round the world.

  It was hours before Poppy answered the buzzer and when she did she dropped the phone, then she clattered around for another hour picking it up.

  'Whoothhaa?' she said.

  'It's me,' I said.

  'Whoothmee?' she said.

  'It's me!' I said. 'Open the door.'

  Now anyone who knows me, have to say I was easy going. But if there's one thing fucking winds me up it's dribblers overdosing. Ain't saying I never done it myself, ain't saying I'm perfect neither, but there I am with my wine in the one hand, my Phileas Fogg's in the other (twenty-four hour shop, no questions asked), bounding up the stairs three at a time, 'Poppy!' I'm shouting. 'Listen to this!' Someone hammered on a wall but I give them fuck off, weren't nothing couldn't dampen my spirits. 'Poppy! It's all OK! It's fine! You're normal, Poppy; you ain't mad at all. I got proof!' I shouted. 'Open the door!' I'd reached her landing but she hadn't come out. 'I got wine,' I shouted. 'I'm leaving as well! I'm going to be a receptionist. We can work together! Open the door!' Then slowly she opened the door.

  It weren't even hardly an overdose what Poppy had took, do you know what I'm saying. Fifteen Plutuperidol. She'd bought them off Banker Bill. But it was still enough to write off the celebrations.

  'Dithuun mean id, N,' she said. 'Pleasth dhon be aaan-gry. I dithuuun mean id!'

  'But there ain't nothing wrong with you!' I said. 'That's the whole fucking point! You was right all along!'

  Poppy frowned at me, gone slightly cross-eyed. 'Wha-whathaa?' she said.

  'You's normal,' I said. 'That's why they picked you. They needed somebody normal,' I said. 'They been measuring us lot against you,' I said.

  'Whafffor?' she said. 'Whaddyoutalkingabou?'

  'I'm saying there ain't nothing wrong with you!' I was shouting by now, you just couldn't get through, like talking to someone who didn't speak English. 'Middle-Class Michael can prove it,' I said. 'They been using you like a fucking bench!'

  'Dithuunn mean id, N,' she said. Her knees give way and she slid down on to the floor.

  45. How 17 March was a sad day for anyone, cares about truth and justice

  Next day when I gone up the Dorothy Fish, I never even made it as far as the first-floor common room. You could hear the shouting from down in the lobby. 'Sounds like the shit's hit the fan,' said Sharon, and he winked at me as he give me my pass. I couldn't believe he done it.

  But as soon as I gone through the sliding doors I caught the force full in my face. You never heard shouting so loud in your life! It whirled round your ears like a fucking tornado; it whirled around Abaddon Patients' Rights, whirled all the leaflets out of the racks, whirled them around and around in the air so I had to keep batting them off with my arms to force my way through to the stairs. All up the stairs it got louder and louder till everything was vibrating with sound and the stairs shooking so bad beneath my feet, I thought they was going to collapse. It weren't till I got to the first-floor landing, I started to make out the separate words 'cause even though it was still fucking loud, it weren't like the same distorted.

  'Compromise!' it gone. 'Compromise! There's nothing else left to compromise!'

  Someone said something; you couldn't hear what.

  'But Tony, that's the whole damn point!' Jesus! I thought, that's Rhona the Moaner. Wonder what's ruffled her feathers! 'She could have been killed! What's happened to you!'

  Tony said something else; I'd of give my MAD money to know what it was he said.

  'No, Tony! No! This has all gone too far!'

  Tony said something else.

  'The Beacon!' she screamed. 'You think I give a shit about the Beacon?! You know what you can do with your Beacon; you can stick it up your sad little arse!'

  Then suddenly she's storming down the corridor towards me. You never seen no one so mad in your life! I swear to God; her eyes was balls of fire.

  Fowler stuck his head out the staffroom doorway. 'Get off of your moral high horse!' he yelled.

  And you know what she done, that Rhona the Moaner! Without even looking back, she give him two Vs up high in the air, and she kept them up too, all the way down the stairs, which I know 'cause I seen from the landing.

  'What's so funny?' shouts Malvin Fowler. I made like I never heard him. 'Oi!' he gone. 'N! Wipe that smirk off your face, and down here; Tony wants you.'

  For three weeks after they kicked me out, all I done was lain in bed. Didn't eat, didn't smoke, didn't take my meds even, just lain on my side underneath the duvet and stared at the clock on the table beside my pillow. The furthest I gone was through to the bathroom, taken a drink out the tap, then I'd fit myself back in the hollow I'd left, like climbing back into my polystyrene packing.

  Hours I lain there, watching each minute come and go on the clock. Sometimes there seemed like so many of them I couldn't believe I'd get through. I set myself landmarks like 5.45; if I could make it to 5.45 that meant it was only forty-five minutes until it would be 6.30. I got through whole days, whole nights like that. It was like I was waiting for something but I didn't know what.

  That first afternoon I thought I was waiting for Poppy, but when she knocked on the door, 17.03, my body wouldn't move. 'N,' she called, 'open the door; it's me!' It was like I was froze, just my eyes staring out, like holes in the ice on a pond. 'Come on, N; I know you're in there!' 17.03 seemed to last forever but eventually it become 17.04. 'N, everyone's really upset you've gone . . . They all saying it's my fault. . . N please let me in!' But I couldn't; I just couldn't move. 17.05, 17.06. At 17.12 Poppy gone.