by Phil Earle
One thing I did notice pretty quickly was how the staff tried to make life as comfy for us as they could. If the beach was the plan, then we didn’t go armed with a manky sandwich and a bottle of water; it would be full-on cool boxes of stuff, or a disposable barbecue and kebabs on skewers. The weird bit, though, was that the other kids didn’t even bat an eyelid: the five-star treatment was what they expected.
It was odd, unnatural, as although I didn’t know where Naomi or the others came from, I couldn’t believe they’d had it half as cushy there.
I’d asked Naomi if we were always treated like this and she was delighted to tell me we were.
‘Bloody awesome, innit?’ she crowed. ‘Being a loon has its advantages, that’s for sure.’
‘But where does the money come from?’
‘Don’t give a monkey’s, long as it doesn’t run out while I’m here.’
Surprisingly, it was Susie who filled in the gaps. She might have been over-emotional, but if you wanted the low-down on anything, she was the girl to go to.
‘It’s fund-raising that pays for this stuff. That’s why Bex is always dressed up. She’s constantly talking to investors and councillors and stuff.’
‘Can’t be easy to convince people to put money in this place, though?’
‘Yeah, but Bex is a legend,’ interrupted Naomi. ‘She’s one of us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Grew up in care, didn’t she? She was a proper raver back in her day, into all sorts of stuff, but she ended up in a place like this over in Manchester and they sorted her out.’
It seemed hard to believe, but I wasn’t going to argue with her about it.
‘That’s why none of us mess with her. The rest of the staff know knack all, it’s all just learned out of books with them, but Bex is different. She understands, get me?’
‘Is that why we don’t see much of her, then?’
‘Completely. She’s out there pressing flesh or whatever they do at these fancy places. Funny handshakes and all that, whatever she has to do to give us the good things …’
Bex wasn’t the only one we didn’t see much of. In the week that followed my arrival, I’d seen practically nothing of Ade, and didn’t know what to think about it.
Part of me was relieved, as our early conversations had hinted that she wanted to get into what had gone on before the crash, but at the same time I felt somehow calmer when she was about.
I certainly didn’t feel the need to neck as much vodka when she was on shift.
There was never a shortage of the stuff, and there were enough quiet rooms tucked away for us to hide in and get quietly wrecked.
I tried to limit myself to evening drinking. After all, I couldn’t hide it half as well as Patrick or Naomi did. It didn’t bother them what time they got laced into it, and if they had too much they just went to bed for a couple of hours before starting again, but I waited for the night shift to start, when the carers were all in the staffroom, handing over, and I knew I wasn’t going to get busted.
With the anti-fear pills on prescription and the vodka flowing, the first week or so ambled by in a haze. There were flare-ups of course, when the stash of booze was rumbled or Naomi was found smuggling knives from the kitchen drawer, but I discovered a way of being on the edge of all the skirmishes, never in the middle of them.
All right, I might have had a swig of vodka, but the bottle was never found in my room, and if the fear gripped hard enough to leave me desperate, I worked over the old scars on my arm, leaving the cutlery drawer alone.
It was working, I suppose. I was neither comfortable nor happy, but I was drunk and high. All the stuff that had gone on was locked up safely inside and no one here had the tools to get at it.
At least, that’s what I thought. But the honeymoon was almost over.
Chapter 30
I stared at the walking boots through sleep-sticky eyes, hoping they were an apparition.
‘Did you say they were for me?’ I wheezed, tobacco sitting heavily in my throat.
‘Who else are they going to be for?’ Ade laughed. ‘I’m wearing mine already.’
She was as well, a pair of brown leather clodhoppers that looked as battered as Paddy’s trainers.
‘Good for you,’ I moaned, shoving my face back into the pillow.
‘Are you cross at me for not being here the last few days?’
I was, but I didn’t tell her of course, defaulting instead to a shrug and a yawn. Another day might have passed, but I still wasn’t used to the way the pills were making me feel, or the vodka for that matter.
‘It is ten o’clock and the sun is waiting for us.’
I groaned. I wasn’t planning on being up for at least another hour. And as for being out in the sun … well, she could forget about it.
Except she wouldn’t. Instead she embarked on a series of annoying little ploys designed to raise me from my pit. First the duvet disappeared, then the pillow, then I was peppered with drops of water from the glass by my bed. By the time she embarked on a tuneless rendition of some hideous African song, I feared my ears would start bleeding and I leapt into action.
‘All right, all right, I’m up. Give me time to have a shower, will you? I do have rights, you know.’
She chuckled long and low. ‘Oh, my Lord. Only one week here and you are already sounding like Naomi. It is definitely time we had a day out, just you and me. Half an hour and I’ll be back here banging on the door. Get your best walking legs on and those boots fastened, yes?’
I nodded, too shocked that I’d sounded like Naomi to do anything else. Then, picking up my towel, I headed for the shower, hoping I could wash any other traces of her clean away.
We left Bellfield armed with breakfast. Ade was adamant about starting before the others woke, probably out of fear that they’d persuade me to sack the walk off in favour of lounging on the balcony, rolling their fags for them.
Strangely, that felt like the better option, but with Ade in unstoppable mode I was swept along and before I knew it I was on the coast road, with a banana in one hand and a slice of toast in the other. Ade even carried my mug of tea for me, still steaming and thick with sugar.
‘You will need the energy, believe me,’ she said, grinning. ‘Today will be different from your other days at Bellfield.’
I immediately felt the need for a cigarette. The lazy days had suited me fine, and something told me the rug was about to be yanked from beneath my boots, which were already rubbing on my heels.
‘So, you have been settling in well?’ she asked.
‘Suppose so,’ I muttered, not quite knowing how to sum up my first week. ‘It’s been … interesting.’
‘Oh yes. Days are never dull here. You are always guaranteed drama in one way or another.’
She left a pause before setting off down a fork in the road. The sea appeared in front of us, a huge strip of blue stretching as far as my eyes would reach. Funny how the sun made everything look different, better. In this light we could’ve been anywhere, the Med or the Caribbean, as for once the sea actually looked clean.
‘Daisy, I feel I have let you down a little in your first week. I’m sorry that I haven’t been here to settle you in and show you the ropes.’
Her apology seemed odd to me. I had no idea what she was saying sorry for. After all, she was the one who’d found me on the floor and sorted out my meds. Without her, that cow of a doctor would’ve had me back in a hospital gown, probably in the psych ward the nurses had gossiped about outside my door.
‘Don’t worry about it. The others have shown me how it all works.’
‘Ah yes, the others. By this I presume you mean Paddy and Naomi?’
I nodded, knowing what was coming.
‘And they can show you many things, but I’m not sure, if you are to use Bellfield properly, that they will be your best teachers.’
> ‘Oh, right.’
‘Daisy, what you must understand is that all of the residents here have huge potential. They would not be living with us if they didn’t. But Naomi, Jimmy, all of them, have lived through things that they shouldn’t have, seen things that people twice their age, of any age in fact, should not have seen. As a result, they are struggling to make sense of their lives, and at times they use crutches to get them through the day.’
I had no idea where this was going and, from the look on her face, she knew it.
‘I’m sorry, I’m tripping over my words. I am talking about drink, Daisy, and other temptations that will be put before you. I’m not stupid and I know you’re not either, so I will just say this. Drink will certainly make days move more quickly. It will make you feel braver and stronger and able to fight the world. But it will not answer your questions and it will not help you move from Bellfield more quickly. We love you being here, but nothing would give us greater pleasure than waving you off, knowing you have the answers you need to move on.’
Her words were sensible and honest, but they were also bloody annoying. It was exactly what Naomi had warned me against. That the staff had read all the books, absorbed all the jargon they needed to. But Ade didn’t have a clue what was going on with me, didn’t realize that the things she wanted me to answer were best left buried, for everyone’s sake.
Nothing else was said for a few minutes, leaving me to force down my breakfast and slurp my tea. It was a worthwhile distraction.
It wasn’t until we actually reached the coast that Ade moved the conversation on to a subject that we both found even more difficult.
‘We need to talk about your dad, Daisy.’
I exhaled slowly, feeling the need for a smoke intensify. ‘What is there to say? He’s dead.’ I felt my insides weep at the truth, the matter-of-factness of what I’d said.
‘And it’s been over two weeks now. We need to think about how to say goodbye to him.’
‘What do you mean?’ Was I being thick again, or was she talking in a different language?
‘A funeral, Daisy. Or some kind of service.’
‘I don’t want one.’
She looked surprised at both the speed and the nature of my answer.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’ I wasn’t interested in even entertaining the possibility. ‘He hated religion. Couldn’t stand setting foot in a church. He used to moan that he felt like a hypocrite going to funerals or weddings, so he certainly wouldn’t want other people to have to do the same on his account.’
Before I realized what I was doing, there was a half-made rollie in my fingers. As I licked the seam I thought about what I’d said. It was true, all of it. He always got edgy before any kind of religious ceremony, but it wasn’t the only reason I was so against it.
It was the thought of being confronted with what I’d done. Of being surrounded by people who at first would want to hug me and take away the pain. I couldn’t bear the fact that, as the ceremony went on, they’d eventually wise up to what had happened and how I’d set the wheels in motion. By the time his coffin slipped away behind the velvet curtains, they’d be whispering conspiratorially. By the time the smoke poured from the chimney, they’d be wanting the same punishment for me.
It was too much to consider, even if it was what I deserved.
‘I know it must be a difficult thing to face, and you don’t need to decide now. Take some time. It would be such a good idea, both for you and for other people. Your dad’s friends, for example …’
‘I don’t give a toss about other people!’ The words came out louder and angrier than I intended, taking us both by surprise. ‘I don’t see anyone queuing up to commiserate, do you? Don’t remember them banging down the door when I was in hospital, so why should I give a monkey’s about making life easier for them?’
It was true, all of it. But I wasn’t disappointed by their lack of concern. I don’t think I could’ve handled their sympathy, and didn’t trust myself or feel deserving enough to have people look out for me. I just hoped I’d said it with enough conviction to make Ade back down.
It seemed I had. She didn’t look cross or disappointed. In fact, her acceptance of what I’d said agitated me more than her.
‘I understand. And there are options we can take that leave it open for you.’
‘Like what?’
‘We can arrange with social services for your dad to be cremated. Tell his friends that you aren’t strong enough to cope with a service. They may choose to mark it in some way themselves, and we can keep his ashes safe until you feel ready.’
I shivered at the thought of an urn by my bed, a constant reminder with potential for the others to abuse, use it as an ashtray or steal it in revenge for not rolling them a fag. It was all too much. I wanted to get pissed, roll into a ball and forget about it.
‘Please don’t worry, Daisy. All these things for you to consider after such a short amount of time, when you are still feeling so raw … It will get easier, I promise. You must trust me. It really will.’
Rubbing Dad’s lighter with his sleeve, I flicked the lid and sparked up my cigarette, feeling the smoke nip at my lungs.
I wanted to believe her, really I did. But I didn’t trust her. Not yet. Not when I couldn’t even trust myself.
Chapter 31
We arrived back to applause and ironic cheers from the balcony.
Ade shrugged it off with a wide beam and a wave, with me limping behind, cursing my blisters. The others loved it when they saw the state of me, with the ribbing starting as soon as I was in earshot.
‘You’re just jealous,’ shouted Ade, trying to defend me. ‘We’ve covered miles this morning and I bet you’ve only just got up!’
‘Too right,’ jeered Patrick, holding his mug aloft. ‘We’ve been up long enough for a few brews, though.’
I sneered at him, wondering if it was just tea in his mug. I wouldn’t put such an early start past him.
Ade strolled into the house, vowing to return with teas of our own, leaving me to collapse on the wicker settee. It didn’t matter that the only space was next to Patrick. I was too tired and sore to care.
Gingerly I unlaced my boots and peeled the socks off my feet, expecting to see great swathes of skin come away at the same time, but aside from a couple of angry blisters, I was just about intact.
‘Have fun, then?’ asked Naomi, without looking in my direction. She was trying and failing in spectacular fashion to roll a fag, but there was an edge to her voice that suggested she didn’t want to look at me anyway.
‘Oh aye, buckets of the stuff. Love exercise, me. Especially in this heat.’
‘Should’ve said no, then, shouldn’t you? You wouldn’t catch me being dragged out by Ade like that.’
There was such bitterness in her voice that I wondered if she’d ever been asked. Maybe that was the problem.
Groaning, I leaned forward and took the cigarette paper from her, hoping the offer would cheer her up a bit, and although she still couldn’t look me in the eye, she managed a grudging thanks when I passed a fag back to her.
‘How long were you walking, then?’ Susie asked.
I hadn’t a clue. It felt like forever, but that could’ve been a mixture of lack of exercise and the awkwardness of the whole situation.
Conversation hadn’t exactly flowed after the funeral discussion and I’d spent a good amount of time cursing myself for being so aggressive.
I’d tried to chat, but every time I said anything, the focus soon shifted back to me and from there I just clammed up. There was nothing to say, so in the end we both said nothing.
It didn’t seem to bother Ade in the slightest, the silence or my grouchiness. She simply ambled along, taking everything in, humming to herself. It would have cheered me up in itself, had her happiness not seemed so alien to me.
Even when
she returned with two cups of tea, a sheen of perspiration coating her face, the grin was still intact, and she made small talk with the others, Naomi in particular, before excusing herself to go and do some paperwork. If she had to go and write about her conversations with me, then she wouldn’t be wasting much ink, that was for sure.
By the end of the day, I’d stopped thinking about the awkwardness of the walk, despite the stiffness in my legs.
With the help of a sneaky swig of vodka or two, I’d put it to the back of my mind. In fact, come the next morning I’d convinced myself it had been an attempt that had gone so badly she wouldn’t dare repeat it. Once again, though, when it came to Ade I was wrong, as by eleven o’clock we were back on the coast road, the sun on our backs and plasters on our heels.
She’d had to work a lot harder to convince me a second time, promising not to walk me as far or for as long. What she didn’t promise, however, was not to pester me with more questions, and when we stopped for our first water break after half an hour she started her offensive.
‘I had a phone call with the psychiatrist from the hospital yesterday. Alice. Do you remember her?’
I nodded. She’d been kind enough, but as the one who’d prescribed the dodgy pills, my memories of her were slightly tainted.
‘She was asking after you, how you are doing.’
‘And what did you tell her?’
‘I told her you were still at the start of your journey, but that I was sure you would get there.’
I wanted to sneer. All this talk of journeys and potential, it was just guff, as the others had said, a way for them to justify their jobs.
‘She filled in a lot of gaps for me too, Daisy. Told me more about the anxiety attacks you had while you were there. That you were very distressed, that you talked a lot about how everything was your fault.’
