Jazzled!

Head over heels

2006-06-24T15:08:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning. Everything a muddle. haven’t been able to eat or sleep, and sometime between now and last Tuesday the smile on Ali’s face (the one I keep seeing all over the place) changed to a sort of mysterious smirk like the one in that painting – what’s it called? – the Mona Lisa, as if she knows something I don’t. Well she does, doesn’t she? She knows how she really feels. Wish I did. I still haven’t heard from her – yet how could I when there’s no way she can get in touch except by turning up at home? And what if she did and ran into Marz? That’d be the end of it probably. But I risk it and drag myself into Old Stuff even tho I’d rather be at home just in case, rather stay in bed and try to lose a few hours in dreams or nothingness. I get to the shop early and unlock, but don’t open up as there’s tidying and cleaning to do first. Jo likes me to wait till she gets back from the market so we can sort the new stock out.

It’s funny in there with the lights off (if I put them on people tend to tap on the door, even tho the closed sign’s up), sort of dim and silent with the ghosts of all the past owners of the stock lurking around. Maybe it’s their smell, which seems to hang about even tho Jo sniffs everything before she buys it and always washes the things that can take it at home before bringing them in. I don’t mind them tho, and it’s not as if they’re all dead, only the ones who wore the very old stuff from the twenties and thirties probably.

Then Jo turns up and I don’t have much time to think about Ali after that. The first ones in are a couple of guys – one a big bald white bloke and the other a beautiful slim black man who reminded me of Danny, only he was a lot darker. They pull out all the really over-the top stuff – ‘Anything with sequins or feathers darling…’ and spend all morning in and out of the dressing rooms and in front of the huge mirror at the end of the shop. They’re brilliant at grabbing things from different rails and getting a look together – sort of Lily Savage meets Leah from BB. Everything has to be approved, not only by each other but also by Jo and me, but they’d somehow turned the shop into a carnival and cheered me up so it was easy enough to smile. They didn’t leave till after midday loaded down with silky dresses and feather boas and a little pink sequinned bag that I’d have dies for a few months ago. So, we’re pretty busy all day. Then until around five things calm, and I look around to see what needs putting away before we lock up and she’s there. Ali’s there, in the shop and I wonder if I’m dreaming. I haven’t had a lunch break, no breakfast either, just loads of coffee and I could be hallucinating. I stand there like a dummy and I’m thinking it’s going to be okay but I can’t speak and she’s smiling and then she says, ‘I went to your house but you weren’t there, but you mum said…’ and then she’s laughing and hugging me and I can half see Jo’s face sort of floating behind her but I don’t care and I think I’m going to pass out but I don’t and Jo’s saying, ‘It’s been a busy day Jazz, you get off now and I’ll get the place sorted’ and we’re out the door and holding hands and suddenly everything’s beautiful.

Touched

2006-06-20T05:27:00.000-07:00

No, I don’t care. Maybe this is what feels like to be drunk, as if the sun’s always out and making you dizzy, as if your head might float away at any moment. I keep seeing her face, freckled with honey spots, her lashes like the legs of amber spiders flicking gently around those weird eyes, her crazy hair that lights up red when the sun catches it a certain way. She smiles at me from the tops of the crippled trees that line the pavement on the way to college, out of buses that pass, her mouth all curves and fullness like the body I can’t get out of my head. I look at my fingers amazed, half-expecting to see them tipped with gold or glowing with that odd luminosity that shines from the sea sometimes. I touched her – we touched each other – why hasn’t something so incredible left a mark?

That’s before the cynic in me kicks in. That’s before I remember how good it was when Danny hugged me that time, when Andy held me. Maybe I’ve been so long without contact that touch is like food to a starving cat. But Ali’s different. I remember how I felt lying in Andy’s bed waiting for him. I’d made a decision and was going to stick to it, to get that experience out of the way and move on. The only thing I felt in the morning when I found nothing had happened was a sort of weariness that I’d have to prepare to cross that bridge again. I know now that it shouldn’t be like that. It should be exactly as it happened, knowing the rightness, the loveliness of it. Then I think but… But she’s a girl. And that’s not exactly normal, is it? But I guess I’ve never been exactly normal – Marz has told me as much, although what does she know about normal? So maybe I’ll stop thinking. But it’s scary, trusting your feelings to another person, especially one you don’t know well, and I’ve never done that before, unless you count Danny, and look what happened there. He told me straight out that it’d never happen, and it never did, only the hug when I was wearing the sari and the dark make-up and pretending to be his sister. That’s hardly normal.

And inside me there’s this constant flutter, this tug to see her again, this fear of seeing her. She didn’t turn up on the last day at college – I s’pose her dad’s still down, or maybe she went back with him for a while. It’s funny, but somehow we forgot to exchange mobile numbers when she left like that, so there’s no way I can talk to her, and I don’t really know how to contact any of the others to find out where she lives. Ali Ali Ali…

Does it count?

2006-06-17T04:51:00.000-07:00

It was nice. Soft, gentle, like when I was younger and used to run to my room and sink into the pink silk cushion and hold onto it when Marz was a bitch to me. There was something comforting, delicious, something lovely about Ali’s plump body. No rush or panic either. Just a slow-motion sliding into loss of control with no reason to put the brakes on. Not scary at all. And afterwards I felt so… well different, relaxed for the first time in too long. So. Am I or aren’t I? Still a virgin, that is? We lay there, on my bed, all warm and tangled. I had a bit of a moment then, when I saw their eyes, and whispered to Ali that the dolls had been watching us. She only laughed. ‘You’re a loopy cow, Jazz,’ she said, but then she kissed me again so I didn’t mind.

After a bit we heard Marz come in. We lay there trying not to breathe or laugh, but I couldn’t help imagining the look on Marz’s face if she came in and found us like that. For once I was at a loss to know what she’d do or say. I mean. Marz is a slut, and she’s always telling me to get myself a guy to fuck, but God knows what she’d say about a girl. After a bit we heard the door open and shut again and felt she’d gone. Ali got up, started to get dressed, and all at once I couldn’t stick the thought of being alone again. ‘Stay with me Ali,’ I said, ‘just for tonight.’ But she had to go – something to do with seeing her Dad, who’s separated from her mum and down from the North for the weekend.

I tried to think when she’d gone, but fell asleep, dreamt I was a little green snake sliding through a flowerbed. It was so weird, all these thick stalks, and huge leaves like umbrellas, glimpses of yellow daisies like multiple suns high above me. I wonder what’ll happen next? Maybe I don’t care.

Ali

2006-06-16T03:01:00.000-07:00

I went back to college after a few days, guts knotted in case Ali’d spilled all that stuff I told her, and putting a face on it, zipped up tight. But things seemed the same as before, just the usual sideways looks I always get, no extra curiosity, so I got to thinking maybe she didn’t. Things’ve been quiet for a while, me with my head down trying to get on, pushing Danny to the back of my head, trying to avoid passing Andy’s flat. I’m keeping busy – Jo’s opening up Sundays now and leaves me to get the place in shape while she looks around the boot sales for stock. It’s all extra cash. Marz got Marco at the wine bar to take her back and seems to be trying to keep off the hard stuff, but I’m not convinced it’s possible working in that place. A lot of her old confidence has gone though. When I come in she’s always stuck to the mirror pulling at her eye-bags and slapping coverstick on the dark patches that seem to have got worse just lately – she calls them her liver spots. Her liver must be shrivelled up like a mummy’s after the gallons of booze she’s poured into herself all these years.

So, I’m just starting to relax, thinking maybe things aren’t so bad after all, then yesterday this weird thing happened. I’m walking home, wondering if I should call in and get some food at Tapan and Binita’s on the way, or if Marz has been shopping, Danny’s eyes when he saw me in the sari that first time floating in my head, when this voice says, ‘Jazz, mind if I walk a little way with you?’ and I turn sidways and it’s Ali and what can I say, cos she knows all this stuff about me that I’d rather she kept quiet? So I just nod, and we walk, and neither of us says anything for a bit, but it seems okay, as if we understand each other – almost. And I walk straight past Tapan and Binita’s without noticing and then I’m turning the key and we still haven’t said anything and she comes in and I think oh God Marz’ll be there and what’ll Ali think? but the flat’s empty. And I wonder what the hell’s going on – why I let her come, why she wanted to come – but I act cool even tho the flat’s like a bloody oven as Marz never opens a window. And I mumble something about making us some coffee but Ali follows me into the kitchen and when I’ve put the kettle on and get to wondering what to do or say she touches my shoulder and turns me round to face her. And she looks into my eyes, really looks, as if she wants to see right inside of me, wants to know everything and her eyes are a sort of hazel flecked with green and then. And then. And then I don’t know how it happens but her lips are soft and I’m thinking what the hell’s happening but it’s sort of nice and then her tongue is in my mouth and. And

Pear-shaped

2006-05-24T01:19:00.000-07:00

I don’t know, I just don’t know. Everything I do seems to be wrong, and even when I think I’ve cracked it that goes wonky too. So here’s me keeping up with college more or less and tiptoeing round Marz in the hour or so that we cross paths, except when she gives me a poke with one of her stubby red-clawed fingers or winds me up with a dig and sets me snarling and snapping. We’re like two animals that choose to come back to our cage to sleep cos there’s no place else to go. I don’t know why I bother. Sometimes I just feel like sleeping and not waking up, staying in some weird dream where time means nothing at all. And it’s as if I don’t know how I feel anymore – Danny, Andy, Marz – I’m in a sort of limbo just waiting for something to happen, something out of my control, some asteroid to collide with my life and change everything cos one thing’s for sure and that’s that things have to change soon as I feel like I’m sat on the edge of a precipice to scared to twitch.

Yesterday in English Lit I thought of me in Andy’s flat, in Andy’s bed, waiting for him, then falling asleep like that. I spurted sweat like a bloody fountain and had to rush out and be sick in the loos. Ms Garner sent Ali after me to see if I was okay and I ended up blubbing like a two-year-old who’s lost its dummy or maybe its mummy, tho I wouldn’t know what that’s like as Marz has never been a proper mum. It was the sympathy that did it – I’d have been alright without that, but Ali’s good at sympathy, which is maybe why Ms. Garner sent her. It was like someone had pulled the plug out and emptied me, or like the dyke before the Dutch kid stuck his finger in the hole and all that water was flooding in faster and faster as the hole got bigger except that Ali’d not so much stuck her finger in as pulled it out, not that it was ever there. Ignore all that, it sounds bad. I'm not a lessie, at least I don't think so.

So I told her stuff I should’ve kept quiet about, and that’s not like me at all, and now I’m thinking that maybe the asteroid I was waiting for is Ali telling the others that I’m still a virgin and too scared to lose it, and everyone knowing and all this sniggering everywhere I go and I’ll have to leave, to give up the idea of making something of myself and getting away. I told her about Danny too, and wearing Binita’s sari and dark make-up to visit him in the hospital, and her face – it was like I’d slapped it with a kipper or something. I went home after that. I’m not going in today. Perhaps she won’t say anything. Who am I trying to kid? Of course she will – it’s too juicy to keep quiet about. Maybe I’ll rest up, get a bit stronger then bite my tongue off, go back and get on with it.

Getting it wrong

2006-05-06T07:10:00.000-07:00

What a long time it is since I wrote here. Been trying to work and maybe I’m getting somewhere, or at least keeping up. Haven’t seen Danny but I think about him a lot. One day he’ll be out of there and then we’ll see. I imagine us getting a place together somewhere – it’d be okay if I had to be his sister and dye my skin and wear a sari – whatever it took, I could do that. It’d be a new life. I know there’s something odd in my feelings for him, some connection beyond attraction – it’s not like the boy/girl thing at all, although I think it may have been before he fucked Marz. In a way it’s better now, I don’t have to think about that, and he doesn’t fancy me so it’s fine.

As for Andy, I came out of college yesterday – lost in some sort of dream as usual – and suddenly he was walking beside me. ‘You never rang, Jazz,’ was all he said. I didn’t answer – what could I say? No point in making excuses – that’d set him thinking he was justified in expecting me to do as he says – and I’m not getting into that. So there we were just walking and not speaking, but when we got to his flat, which is on the way home, he took my hand and tried to get me to come in for a coffee. ‘Shouldn’t you be on duty?’ I said – although he wasn’t in uniform – and he sighed and said he’d been off sick for a few days but was going in to get ready, but wasn’t due on for another couple of hours. He was still holding my hand and pulling gently towards the door, and suddenly I felt so tired so I said ‘Okay, just for a minute, but I have to get home to Marz,’ which was a total lie, but sometimes you need one of those as a let out.

I sat on one of the big chairs so’s when he brought the coffee in he wouldn’t be able to sit next to me, although I almost regretted that while I was waiting, remembering how good it felt when he held me that time and wondering what was the matter with me because I don’t ever seem to know what I want and the longer I put it off the harder it seems to get to even imagine something happening, and maybe I should just let him do it to me if that’s what he wants, but then he’s back, and the coffee smells great and he’s talking but I’m not really listening, just sinking into the chair, which seems to have grown suddenly and is enveloping me like a huge duvet or maybe I’m sitting in an elephant’s lap and then Andy’s getting up and his mouth is moving but I can’t hear what he’s saying, and I feel as tho I’m drugged although I haven’t even touched the coffee so it can’t be that. And then I’m going – I don’t want to but there’s no choice – I’m just sliding into darkness.

I wake up in bed, look around, wonder where the hell I am. The walls are this pale blue-green colour like a blackbird’s egg and the blinds are white. There’s a rug on the wall opposite and somehow Andy’s part of the patterns on it, until I sort out that he’s sitting on the bed. He’s wearing his uniform and saying that he has to go soon but I’m to stay a while until I feel better, and that I passed out and have I been eating enough and he’s made me some scrambled eggs on toast to go with the coffee and I’m to eat something now, before he goes and if I want I can stay and rest till he comes back.

When he’s gone I check my clothes – I’m still dressed except for my shoes. Everything seems to be okay. I’m sure I’d know if he’d done anything – I’d feel different – and I don’t, I’m just the same. I finish the food and drink the coffee and feel better for it, then I just lie there thinking, but must’ve fallen asleep because I wake up to darkness. And it’s good, being there in the dark and the quiet, knowing he’s coming back after his shift and that he’ll sleep in this bed – has slept in this bed, under the blue duvet with his head on the pillow and maybe I’ll wait until he comes back and see what happens, if he wants me. So I get out of the bed and take everything off and slip back into bed and lie awake thinking This is it, no going back, no changing your mind, Jazz, and that maybe he’ll do it while I’m asleep and I’ll wake up and that’ll be that.

But that’s not what happened. The sun woke me this morning poking through the white blind and striping the duvet light and dark. It took a while to remember, but when I did I turned my head to see if he was there. He wasn’t – empty pillow, uncreased, untouched, just like me. I put on the white dressing gown hanging on the door and went into the sitting room. There he was, asleep on the settee under the red throw. I didn’t wake him – just got dressed and slipped out. I must’ve been wrong – his interest is just a Mr. Plod protective thing. Will I ever get it right?

Catching up

2006-04-13T07:13:00.000-07:00

I went home and had this huge row with Marz who’d got back by then. We said some things and it ended up with me shutting my bedroom door on her and pushing the chest of drawers against it to keep her out. She was screaming and yelling that if I didn’t open up she break the thing down but I just lay on the bed with my head under the pillow. After a while there was this hammering and it all went quiet for a bit. Seems the old bag next door called the police. Marz was okay after that – even came to tell me about it through the door. But I didn’t open up – I’d had enough. She went off to bed laughing like a lunatic. Best forgotten I reckon. By the time I’d tidied up the dolls all thoughts of ringing Andy had buggered off somewhere.

I didn’t ring the next day either. I like him but what would be the point? His job sits between him and me like a red light or a sign with DANGER written all over it. And although I’m half tempted by the thought of being looked after it’s not really on. No one’s going to look after me in this world – I have to stay strong on my own, not risk getting weak and dependent only to have someone fuck off on me. And there’s Danny to think of too. I have this soft place for him somewhere, as if it’s been programmed into me and all that scratchy aggro has just grown up around it.

Been trying to catch up with reading for college, but it’s hard. I’m hot and cold about the whole idea but somehow manage to keep at it. If I’m really struggling one look at Marz is all it takes to get me back on track.

No sign of Pete or crazy Calla. I’ll be out of here soon.

Mother's Day cont.

2006-03-28T04:46:00.000-08:00

Had to stop yesterday – too shattered to go on, so here’s what happened. I’m standing there wondering whether this is a good idea and if I should just clear off, but there’s Andy’s voice through the intercom. ‘It’s Jazz,’ I say, ‘I’m on the run, can you let me in?’ and I’m looking through the glass door to see who’s about and keeping one eye on my back and an ear tuned for the sound of sirens when there’s the buzz and I push open the door and go inside. And then Andy’s coming down the stairs and at first he doesn’t recognise me but when I speak he does and his face falls to pieces and I’ve never seen him look like that before, as if he’s naked and nothing can be hidden.

‘Bloody hell.’ he says, ‘let’s get you upstairs before anyone sees you’, and then I’m in his flat and telling him everything that’s happened. And I’ve forgotten about the bin bag, and he looks sidesways at it and asks how I know the old girl was stealing our rubbish and saying that maybe the dolls are not even in the bag – maybe it’s just garbage – and what was I thinking of and we’d better have a look and I say ‘Whatever.’

So he opens up the bag and lets out this huge sigh and tips all seventeen of them on the carpet and I grin cos I was right after all. I get down on the floor and line them up on the settee, make sure they’re okay, that Marz hasn’t hurt them and while I’m doing this he just sits and watches but I don’t care cos I’ve got them back and they all mean something special to me, especially Candace who’s just like a real baby – same size and everything – although she doesn’t need nappies thanks.

He doesn’t say much after that, only that he’s due on duty soon and why is he doing this as it’s putting his arse on the the line and that I’d better get the make up off and he might have something I can wear so I can just walk right out of there and go home. Twenty minutes later I leave dressed in black jeans, tee shirt and anorak, hair tucked into a red baseball cap, the dolls and sari crammed into a rucksack. His last words to me are: ‘Make sure you ring me tonight.’

Mother's Day

2006-03-27T05:54:00.000-08:00

I didn’t ask Marz why there’s only me cos the answer rose up inside my head – pictures of old women knitting and dolls, naked and dismembered, lying on dirty sheets in back-street bedrooms. I hope I’m bloody wrong but I really don’t want to know for sure.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. Call me (senti)mental but I bought Marz a bunch of daffs and a soppy card from Tapan and Binita’s, cooked her bacon and eggs and toast and orange juice and tea and took the flowers and everything in to her on the yellow tray. She laughed, said she reckoned I was going soft in the head, but it could’ve been worse.

Afterwards she got all dressed up as if she was going clubbing. I asked her if it was a good idea to go out when she’s still not better, but she trotted out her old line of Who the hell’s the mum around here and I bite back back before I can stop myself with Not you, that’s for sure and the door slams and she’s gone.

So I sit there all on my own wondering about Andy and if I should ring as he said to but something’s stopping me, so instead I go down to Tapan and Binita’s and we drink char and she shows me two new saris and says that if I want I can choose two of her old ones as her wardrobe’s getting full. And this starts me off thinking about Danny again, and how good it was when I went to the hospital all dressed up, so I ask Binita if we can do that again and she smiles and nods a lot and shows me the black hair dye she’s bought and points to my pale roots and we laugh.

And a couple of hours later there’s me in the street in a blue sari counting what’s in my purse and wondering if I should catch the train and surprise him, and then I’m at the station and on the train with the houses whizzing by and feeling sort of elegant and quiet behind the dark stage make-up that Binita had bought in case I wanted to be Indian again, remembering that I’ll have to say I’m Danny’s sister like before.

I’m really nervous as I walk up the drive to the hospital, hoping the receptionist won’t hear the blood banging in my head. But it’s easy this time, and in a minute I’m in the day room and Danny’s up out of his chair giving me a hug. He looks better than he did the last time, his eyes are quieter, less haunted somehow. And he talks, and I listen, and that’s so good, even if I had to change colour to make that happen, to find a way in. They bring us tea, and then the afternoon’s gone and it’s chucking out time, although the staff are more polite to me now I’m not Jazz and I smile and nod and hug Danny goodbye thinking that maybe being his sister’ll be enough.

I let myself in listening out in case Marz had come back, imagining what she’d say to see me in this get up, but it seemed she wasn’t home yet. I was tired, needed to lie down and rest, maybe even sleep, although it was barely eight o’clock. But my room seemed different, tidier somehow, and I stared around not knowing for a moment what’d changed before it hit me that all the dolls had gone. All seventeen of them and I couldn’t believe it and just stood there like a dork. I wandered though the place looking in the cupboards, the drawers, surprised to find that Marz had picked up all the stuff from the floor in her room and put it away, but still no sign of the dolls. What the hell had she done with them? It hit me then and I ran out to the dustbins at the side just in time to catch the old woman who lives next door shuffling up her steps with a bin bag. Course I’d forgotten that she wouldn’t recognise me in my Indian get up, and as I touch her arm and start talking about how the bag probably has my stuff in it she starts to yell all this stuff about thieving darkies and shout and scream as if she’s being mugged and I’m panicking and two kids across the street are looking and one’s getting out his mobile so I just grab the bag from her and leg it and it’s bloody tricky to run in a sari and I can hear her screaming blue murder behind me but I don’t stop or look around and I’m thinking that I can’t expect to get away dressed like this then all at once I’m outside Andy’s and ringing the bell.

Catching up

2006-03-08T08:28:00.000-08:00

I’ve been too worried about Marz and so busy catching up with college that I’ve let this slide a bit. But she seems over the worst of it now, tho she’s still a funny colour and hasn’t any inclination to go out. That sleaze Marco from the bar rang up, says if she’s not back there by the end of the week she’s out on her ear. I told him ‘Thanks, she’s dying in the next room – that should just about finish her off.’ ‘I’m not a bloody charity for retired toms,’ he said, so I gave him a mouthful and put the phone down. That’s probably the end of that then. I didn’t tell her he’d rung – what’d be the point?

Funny thing is that it’s kinda good to know where she is, even tho she’s getting pretty demanding now she’s a bit better. But she’s off the hard stuff, and that has to be a good thing.

Been looking out for Calla, but haven’t noticed so much as the smell of her and her moth-balled red boa. But on the way home today I heard footsteps behind me and the next thing I know is that Pete’s walking next to me and I’m telling him to fuck off before his crazy girlfriend tries to beat me up again, and he’s saying, ‘Yeah, she told me. How’s that for love, eh?’ and I’m saying that if he doesn’t leave me alone I’ll… but I don’t get the chance to finish because coming towards us is Andy in his uniform and Pete takes one look at him and disappears like the rat he is. They say you’re never more than seven feet away from one. And I’m like… gobsmacked, but I act cool and Andy says ‘What’s happened to your friend?’ and I say ‘He’s no friend of mine,’ and Andy says ‘I’m glad to hear it, because that one’s bad news.’ And then he looks at me, kinda soft, and says, ‘You never rang me,’ and I almost fall down on the pavement. But I tell him about Marz and he asks if she’s seen the quack as if he really cares – I mean really cares – and I tell him no, but she’s nearly better now, and he says he has to go, but I’m looking better too, not so starved, and don’t forget to ring. And I’m wondering if I should feel mad at that but somehow I can’t, and thinking it’d be good to have him as a brother, and why’s there only me when Marz has been pretty active in her day. Maybe I’ll ask her tonight.

It's my life...

2006-02-27T09:34:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I did get to college on the Monday, but Marz is still not better and I hated leaving her. Not that I can ever stop her drinking if she’s a mind to do it, but at least I can shop and cook her decent stuff and refuse to buy the vodka now she can’t get out. I came back that first day hoping not to bump into crazy Calla and wondering what the hell I’d find at home. I wrote to Danny too, then tore the letter up and threw it in the bin, all this pink confetti like I was getting married or something. Ha. I’m never going to get married. I asked Marz who my dad was once and d’you know what she said? She said she hadn’t the foggiest idea. I looked in the mirror then. I’m fair-skinned with pale hair and eyelashes, grey eyes, tho sometimes they seem blue. Maybe my dad was Scandinavian, I said, looking hard, thinking maybe I could crack her wide, get her to spill. Has she ever loved anyone? Who the hell knows.

‘Scandinavian?’ she said. ‘Maybe, but there were so many coming off the boats round about that time, and I was always one for the seamen, me.’ Then she laughs like a hyena and says, ‘Seamen, get it?’ and I feel sick again. I used to feel sick a lot back then, still do sometimes. And I saw myself in a shop window today and didn’t know who it was at first. Gave me a right shock. It wasn’t the black hair, which is coming up pale at the roots – shall I fix that? – or the chucking of the pink gear, although I can’t afford to go out and buy new. Lucky I work at Old Stuff cos Jo’s given me loads that she was going to sling out. I’m a bit goth now – all black like Danny, tho I don’t go for the weird make-up (not that Danny wears make-up, but hey, you know what I mean). No, it was the shape of me – I must’ve put on at least seven pounds. So it’s no chips tonight and just water to drink instead of chocolate.

I keep thinking of Andy, wanting to go and see him. Hate myself for that. I have to try to be alone and strong and other people always complicate things. Some of the girls at college wanted me to go shopping after lectures today, but I’m not getting into girly secrets and stuff. Before you know what’s happening they tell you theirs and you’re suddenly spilling and then you might as well be standing bloody naked in the High Street, and at seven pounds too fat I couldn’t cope. Joke. Ha ha.

Limbo

2006-02-18T09:27:00.000-08:00

I haven’t been to college all week. Partly because of what happened last Saturday but mostly because of Marz, who’s been in bed since Sunday, tired out and throwing up. She’s gone a yellowish colour too, as if she’s got jaundice, but she says that’s just because she hasn’t used the fake tan since last Friday. She won’t let me call the quack either, says all she needs is a few days rest. I’ve been googling on and off all week, trying to find out what could be wrong. The best bet seems to be cirrhosis of the liver and the stuff I read scared me shitless – she could have as little as five years left if she doesn’t stop drinking. I wrote some of it out and went and read it to her – sat well away in case she went ballistic, but she just shut her eyes and said what difference did it make as we’re all going to die in the end and it might just as well be sooner as later and she couldn’t get through without the booze, and besides, did I expect her to chuck away all the drinks customers insisted on buying her? There’s no reasoning with Marz, so I left her to it, but I’m worried, as it seems worse this time.

Old Stuff was okay, although I was like Lee & Perrings on a hotplate all day waiting to see if Calla would come in and eyeball me. I got the mobile out as Jo locked up, walked down the road to the corner with her, but there was no sign of Calla and her butch friend. I dragged past Andy’s flat half-tempted to ring his bell but decided against it. There’s Danny in that place and what the hell am I thinking of? But it’d be nice to see him again all the same.

Marz seemed a bit better when I got back – actually ate half a slice of toast with baked beans. Maybe I’ll be able to get back to college on Monday.

Handy Andy

2006-02-13T00:37:00.000-08:00

I should go to college today but I’m lying low. I’ll get some reading done instead. I’m pretty down and don’t know what to do – maybe I’ll have to move away from here. This is what happened.

Saturday was busy again at Old Stuff, but I enjoyed it. We even had a couple of trannies coming in to mince about in front of the mirrors wearing Dior stilettos and Max Mara – so camp you wouldn’t believe it. Jo was pleased with me too. So I wasn’t expecting what hit me when we’d locked up and I’d said goodbye to Jo and got around the corner into the alley. Crazy Calla and some other bitch stepped out from a doorway and pushed me up against the wall, started saying all this stuff about me and Pete. Seems she thinks we’ve got something going.

‘So you thought dying your hair would make you invisible, did you?’ she hisses in my ear, her spit on my cheek, ‘well think again, cos you can’t hide from this baby.’ I’d have laughed in her face if it hadn’t been two against one in a dark alley, but it wasn’t too hard to keep my mouth tight shut. They punched and kicked a bit, pulled my hair as if they were still in the bloody playground, then she ran her fingernails down my cheek. That was the worst. I panicked then, thinking I’d probably caught Christ knows what – hepatitis, aids, who knows what the hell. The other bitch’s hand was over my mouth but I bit it hard and started screaming and they ran off. I was in a right state. A man was running towards me but I didn’t like the look of him so I buggered off. I got part way home before I fell to bits – tears and everything. And I don’t cry too often, me.

Then I noticed I was outside PC Plod’s block. I remembered what he’d said about not coming again, but I needed someone like bloody oxygen just then, so I sort of staggered under the overhang and leaned against his bell. I was still crying. ‘Who is it?’ comes this voice, and I just manage ‘Jazz, help me.’ There’s a pause before the door buzzes and I’m in and he’s coming down the stairs with ‘I thought I told you…’ before he clocks my face and ‘Shit, what happened?’ and he’s holding my arm and guiding me up and through the door of his flat. And maybe that’s the biggest mistake of all, cos I start to cry again and he comes over all protective.

He holds me for a bit and it’s sort of nice, and all this stuff wells up like a tsunami and I cry and cry and can’t stop. Then I do, but these gasps keep coming for a while. Then we just sit for a long time. At last he gets up and goes to get a bowl of warm water and some TCP and cleans my face, and then he says do I want to tell him what happened and I say No. But I tell him anyway, and he says I must come to the station and make a complaint, and I ask him if he wants me dead, cos it’ll be worse next time and we argue and argue and I cry again and he holds me and we stop talking. And I’m there a long time, and he asks me why I’ve dyed my hair and I tell him about Danny. And his expression is weird, as if he can’t believe it, and he says to leave Calla to him, he’ll give her an unofficial warning and she won’t touch me again. So now I’m thinking that I really am dead, but I’m too tired to cry or argue any more. So I lie on the settee drinking tea while he cooks fish fingers and peas and mashed potatoes and tries to get me to eat some, but I can’t, and after a while he walks me home. And this time he gives me his mobile number and says I must call if I need help, and to ignore what he said before about not coming to the flat and his face is so sort of serious and pleading, like a puppy almost, that I say I will. He told me his name too. It's Andy.

Old things

2006-02-05T01:01:00.000-08:00

First day at the new job yesterday. I got there early so’s Jo (the woman whose shop it is) could show me what to do before I started. I hung around outside in the cold for almost an hour before she turned up with armfuls of old clothes – seemed she’d been to a car boot sale to look for stock. We set to sorting it out. She seems to go for anything old in good condition as long as it’s clean and has a bit of style about it, and it goes straight on the hangers without cleaning – she said anything that needs doing can easily be dealt with later and in the meantime we might well sell it. That means that the shop smells a bit – you know, like something does if you put it away without washing and don’t wear it for a long time – Marz has stacks of stuff like that, but Jo has dried flowers in baskets around the place so it’s not too bad and you do get used to it.

The place is rammed with stuff – she even has an Edwardian wedding dress with a seventeen inch waist and sewn with seed pearls. Designer dresses too. She got me looking through the stock so’s I’d know what’s what, and I’m to examine the new stuff carefully and spot-clean or iron as needed. She has this shelf full of specialist cleaning fluids and Stain Devils out in the little room at the back. I enjoyed the first few hours – it was a bit like sorting through the dolls’ clothes, deciding what looks good with what.

Then we got busy – hardly room to move, but Jo’d warned me to keep sharp as people go off with things given half a chance, and some of that stuff’s worth a bit. I couldn’t believe the cash and cards coming across the counter. OK, I worked at Retro-specs, which is kinda the same idea with glasses, but we never sold as much on a Saturday.

And then bloody Calla walked through the door and gave me a fright. All got up in the red boa and what looked like Pete’s cowboy hat and boots. I tried to keep my head down. The last thing I need is for Pete to know where I am on Saturdays. But she didn’t seem to notice me – the new black hair and ditching the pink I guess – so as soon as I could I slipped out to the loo just in case. Lucky she was gone by the time I got back.

Home again, and Marz had cooked – only bought pizza and chips – but it’s the thought that counts, and she doesn’t have too many of those. We ate it in front of the box then she buggered off out, as usual all slappered up like she was in a panto. She’ll be too old for all that one of these days. When I’m on my own I can’t help thinking of Danny. Hope he’s OK. I watched the box awhile then went to bed.

Danny and me

2006-01-29T08:41:00.000-08:00

So, I’m back on Danny again. But maybe it’s good that I won’t be able to visit him much, what with the Saturday job and college. It’ll give him time to get better for me. It’s odd how he’s changed. When it was time to leave he held out his arms and hugged as if he didn’t want to let me go.

Then it was ‘Shit Jazz, what’s this stuff on your face,’ and he’s touching my cheek and looking at his black fingers and laughing again, and I’m saying ‘It’s barbeque charcoal – I had to use something and we didn’t have any stage make-up, but I’ll get some for next time,’ and I’m thinking Hey, it’s my colour that’s made him like me, even tho he knows it’s not real, and what the hell does that mean and how can I change it, you know, permanently, cos I would if it could make Danny love me. And I’m whispering ‘Danny, Danny, who do I remind you of?’ and he’s stepped back and is looking kinda funny and not answering, and I’m asking him again. And when he does say something it’s not what I expected to hear, which was that he used to be in love with an Indian girl once (and I wouldn’t have minded), but instead that he had a half-sister who died and it was good just for little while – until the stuff started to come off my face – to pretend that I was her, and that it almost made it real. But I’m thinking: Danny held me in his arms, he held me, and I’m singing inside and nothing, no dead sister, nothing, is going to take that away from me.

So today I’ve been trying to read Far from the Madding Crowd which is one of the books on my reading list, and feeling sorry for poor old Gabriel because Bathsheba doesn’t fancy him, but it’s difficult because I can’t get Danny out of my head and every so often I get up to look in the mirror at my black hair, which is quite a decent sort of black, not hard or Gothy at all but as natural as black hair could look on someone with pale skin and I’m thinking maybe I could dye my skin dark too.

Lost Again

2006-01-28T11:43:00.000-08:00

Back at college this week trying to work hard. The problem is that they don’t make you – something called self-motivation’s needed and I always seem to seem have other things on my mind. But I got a Saturday job yesterday – just working in a tiny retro shop off the High Street – and you’ll never guess what I did to celebrate. Today I went to see Danny at the hospital. That’s not all tho. I called in to say Hi to Binita and Tarpan and had the coolest idea. I asked Binita to dress me up like that time I had to give Pete the slip, only so’s I’d pass in daylight this time. It took ages. The hair was the biggest problem but I thought What the hell and ran along to the chemist for some black hair colouring. Scary stuff. When all the mess was over Binita dressed me up in a red sari – not pink as that might’ve given the game away, and I borrowed her old coat again. It was weird to walk out the door as someone else, someone so different from me, and I felt sort of free as I hurried to the station. I had a funny feeling that Pete was about, wondered if he’d recognise me in my disguise, was quite disappointed when there was no sign of him.

I s’pose anyone looking closely at me would’ve known as my eyes are blue and fairly pale, but Binita says that some Indians do have blue eyes. Can’t remember where she said they came from. People tend to look a bit sideways at me anyway, all got up in pink, but it was different this time. They looked, but not in the same way. I can’t quite find the words to describe it. But there’s me feeling excited and a little scared at the thought of seeing Danny again and wondering what sort of state I’m going to find him in. Maybe he’ll hate me, refuse to speak, not that he ever spoke much anyway.

And then I’m going up the steps again, and at the desk the woman asks for my name and I tell her I’m Danny’s sister and she looks at me sideways too but points me in the direction of the day room.

And I open the door, and there’s Danny with his back to me, and I say Danny? quite softly and he turns around. And his face, for a minute it’s like my old teddy bear’s when I found him in the dustbin after Marz had chucked him out, before I rescued him, and Danny just stands there and I go over to him, and I’m saying Danny, don’t you know me? And he falls backwards into a chair all long legs like a spider and smiles – he actually smiles. And I say Danny, you aren’t cross with me for calling them and getting you put back in here are you?

And he says, No, no Jazz, I’m not cross and What are you like? And then he laughs, and I laugh because I’ve made Danny laugh. And we talk about stuff – just what’s happening at the hospital, and what things are like at home. And it seems he’s changed and he says it’s because they’ve got him on some new tablets and he’s eating fish like I said and feeling better. And I’m right back where I started with him.

Mr Plod

2006-01-22T09:08:00.000-08:00

Had to stop writing the last post and leave it – I seem to get whacked easily these days. But for the sake of making my life into something REAL I’ll carry on now.
I went in, didn’t I?

‘Sit down,’ he says, with a sort of throwaway movement of the hand. So I dropped into the nearest chair, half wasted, but all the time I’m thinking fast, wondering why he didn’t tell me to get lost, wondering how the hell I’d managed to press his bell instead of one of the others. The flat itself was OK in a basic sort of way. Tidy, a bit Ikea but no sign of a girly hand anywhere.

‘Tea or coffee?’ I jumped at that – not jumped in the sense of saying OOOH! Yes Please, but more outta my skin.

‘Could I just have a glass of water?’ I said.

He gave me a funny look, nodded and went into the little kitchen. I could see him running the tap to make the water cold then filling the kettle. I reckoned he must need a cuppa himself. He came back in a bit carrying a tray with two cups and a teapot and choccy biks as well as the water. Milk-choccy ones.

‘Well,’ he says, settling in the chair, more like my granny – if I had one – than a guy in his twenties. ‘You’d better tell me what all this is about. But let me give it to you now, straight, that you shouldn’t have come here. It’s not ethical for me to entertain people I’ve met through work.’

‘Entertain?’ I said, seeing him in his police get-up coming on all official then morphing into a strippogram. ‘I didn’t know you were a performer.’

‘Don’t try to be clever with me, ‘ he says, ‘I’ve seen and heard too much of it, and it doesn’t impress me one iota.’

‘Iota?’ I said.

‘You’re beginning to sound like an echo,’ he says, ‘just tell me why you came and then go. But if you need help you should have gone to the station.’

Pictures of the railway station flickered briefly, but I resisted the temptation to repeat the word.

I told him about Pete, how he keeps turning up, how I reckon he’s following me about, how I don’t want him to know where I live.
Afterwards he sat back in the chair, nibbled on a choccy bik. I took one too.

‘Good story,’ he says, ‘But it doesn’t add up. How come you happened to be passing? How come you knew where I live?’

‘I didn’t,’ I said, ‘it was just coincidence.’

He looked at me, disbelief written all over him.

‘Do you know what sort of trouble I could get into if anyone knew you’d come here? They’d think one thing and one thing only. I can’t have any sort of relationship with you outside of the station and Official Police Business, and the sooner you get that into your head the better.’

I nearly fell off the bloody chair. Why do guys, no matter how young or old they are always think you fancy them? Why? Danny was the only one who never thought that till I told him I did.

‘Fuck off,’ I said. ‘I don’t fancy you, and what I told you was straight-up. And if I get murdered it’ll be your fault. I’m outta here.’
And then I was, but luckily Pete was nowhere around and I got home OK.
That was the other day. Today I did some reading and changed all the dolls’ clothes around. Wish I was a doll.

Frying pan

2006-01-20T09:06:00.000-08:00

I’ve been trying, I have, straight up, but it’s pretty dead this time of year and not much about in the way of weekend jobs. Been reading a bit tho, catching up with the all the stuff I missed last term. It helps take my mind off Danny, but the nights are the worst – Marz out till the early hours and me eating myself wondering where she is. Then having to creep around all day in case I wake her up – things’ll never change She says she needs her beauty sleep. Yeah, too right. So. I’ve been keeping off the ‘net and con-cen-trating on being good. Marz must’ve been feeling guilty about disappearing that time cos she’s actually started to bring food home now and again. Which means I haven’t had to go out since I gave up on the job-hunting.

Of course I’d forgotten all about Pete, hadn’t I? So when I heard these footsteps behind me on the way back from the corner shop the thought it might be him again never even ruffled my fur.

‘Hiya Jazz,’ he says, linking his arm in mine. I nearly jumped outta my pink boots, yanked my arm away, shook him off like he was a seagull shit that’d splatted down on my shoulder – which really did happen once. There was about half a cup of it and it stank of fish.

‘Hey girly,’ he says, ‘don’t be like that, ole Pete means no harm, honest.’

‘Leave me alone,’ I said, ‘I’ve got enough on my plate without you bothering me.’ He started to go on then, but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking how I’d better not let him know where I lived, so when we got to the door I just carried on straight past without a sideways flicker. A couple of streets on I stopped outside a small block of flats.

‘OK,’ I told him, ‘this is it. I can’t ask you in, my mum’ll be sleeping – she works nights.’ It came out just as I'd intended, all sarcastic-like.

He looked sad at that, then his mouth went all tight and he said goodbye and moved away a step or two, watching me with those little rat’s eyes of his. So I had to pretend to look for my key, then press the bloody bell so’s he didn’t get suspicious. This voice answered, all broken up by rotten electronics.

‘Who’s that?’

‘It’s Jazz,’ I said, fingers and toes all crossed. ‘I’ve lost my key.’ I’d have crossed my legs too only Pete would’ve seen. And bloody miracle of miracles there was this buzzing noise and the door was busy unlocking itself and I’m turning to Pete with a little wave and slipping inside. But he just stays there, watching, so I have to make for the stairs and go on up, not knowing where the hell I’m going, or even whose bell I’d rung.

So there’s me hanging around the landing wondering how I’ll know when Pete's gone, and not wanting to go down the stairs a little way in case he’s still there and sees me through the glass, when a door opens a little way along the passage and someone steps out, stands there looking at me.

‘I’m along here,’ he says, quite unnecessarily as I can see where he is.

‘Come in and I’ll make us some tea.’

And I’m standing there with my mouth open like a goldfish cos it’s the young policeman from the other week and I want to run but bloody Pete’s probably still outside. So I walk the few steps along to the door and he stands to one side and I just go in.

Decisions

2006-01-11T10:35:00.000-08:00

I wrote Danny a letter, tried to explain everything – how I’m sorry I had to do what I did but couldn’t see another way, how I feel about him now, how I hope he gets better soon and not to lose touch. I’m not going to visit him at the hospital – what good would it do? He was never pleased to see me.

And I have to concentrate on myself – get things sorted, get a life and support myself. I think I will go back to college and try to do some work, have something to show at the end of it so I can get in some training scheme or other. God only knows what. One thing at a time.

And then there’s Marz. Part of me wants to shake her, sit down and have a serious talk but I know from experience that it wouldn’t work. She doesn’t listen for a start and seems stuck on some sort of crazy roller coaster, incapable of getting off and becoming more and more addicted to the ride. Ha – good metaphor or what?

No. So that’s all I did today. Should have been out looking for a weekend job but just hung around my room putting up the doll pictures I took before Christmas. Seems a long time ago now.

Clinging to the Wreckage

2006-01-09T11:44:00.000-08:00

I’ve been pretty much wrecked since I last posted here. With Danny gone it seemed that he hadn’t been so bad after all and I hated myself for turning him in. The police came back to take a statement and I had to make up a story of how he’d just turned up off the streets. Don’t think they believed me, but who gives a shit? One of them, youngish, quite fanciable in a quietish way, kept looking at me sort of sideways. Then he says, all serious, that they’ll need to speak to a parent or guardian as I’m underage. Underage!

‘How the fuck old do you think I am?’ I said, deadly cold. ‘ He stares straight back blank as a concrete wall and says, ‘Twelve, thirteen at a push. You shouldn’t be here alone.’ I told him to fuck off, said I was seventeen and my ‘parent and guardian’ had to work for a bloody living which was why she wasn’t here, took them into her room to see her stuff, which I’d just about finished clearing away after Danny’s crazy. Showed them my student card. That shut them up. I was glad to see the back of them. Then I sort of collapsed and woke up with bloody ‘flu the next morning, didn’t know what day it was for almost a week.

But Marz is back, thank the godless stars. Just rolled in as if she hadn’t been in another dimension for the last who knows how long.

‘Christ Jazz,’ she says, ‘you look as though you’re even less in the world than usual. White as a new tampon and about as appealing – all that’s missing is the tail.’

I ignored that. Marz can be bloody crass sometimes – make that most times.

‘Where’ve you been?’ I said.

She shrugged, got out a ciggy and lit it, taking her time, then looked at me sideways. Evil around the eyes in spite of all the slap.

‘Oh, just some guy,’ she says, ‘you know me.’

I didn’t say anything – what would’ve been the point? She’ll never change, the headstones’ll be shaking when they put her under the ground – she’ll be screwing all the old bods in the graveyard.

She looked around then. ‘Place looks tidy. Where’s Danny?’
I told her the worst, even about the fire that almost happened but she didn’t seem bothered.

‘Just you and me again then, Doll, is it?’ she says. ‘Can’t beat coming home to your own flesh and blood – not that you’ve got much of either.’

I can’t be sure but I think that’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T08:34:00.000-08:00

The last three days’ve been hell. I put off going for food for as long as I could but yesterday Danny suddenly got hungry and started to make up for lost time. When he’d eaten everything possible, even down to little cakes I cooked in the microwave from a mixture of Flora, water, flour and curry powder he started pacing, picking up stuff and dropping it, looking under the chairs in the sitting room, in the cupboards and drawers, turning stuff out onto the floor. I caught hold of him then, turned him round to face me. His eyes were weird, huge pupils, a look of terror almost, yet I don’t think he can have been smoking shit or I’d have noticed the smell, and he can’t have had cash for anything harder. I got fierce – told him to sit and watch TV, wait for me while I went down to Tarpan and Binita’s on the corner and fetched us something to eat. He seemed to calm down a bit then and I left him, ran down the road.

Tarpan knew there was something wrong, tried to get me to tell him what it was, and I’d have liked to but knew I had to get back to Danny as fast as I could. I’d been gone about ten minutes – it can’t have been more – and I smelt the burning as soon as I opened the front door. He’d put the Flora in the microwave and it’d caught on fire, turned all the plastic inside to charcoal just about. Not only that but while it’d been cooking he’d wrecked the place, finished the job of tipping out all the drawers and cupboards, pulled all the clothes off the beds, dragged the cutains down – you name it – if it wasn’t nailed or screwed Danny had piled it in the middle of the carpet, and I can’t be sure what was in his head but he had a lighter in his hand – one of those disposable ones – so maybe I just got back in time. He seemed calmer even than when I’d left, dazed almost, let me lead him to the settee and cover him with the duvet. In half an hour he was asleep lying on his side, long dark curly lashes resting on his cheek. I sat there watching him for a while. He’s so beautiful. I’d got Danny to myself, but never knew it’d be so hard, so impossible. There wasn’t much of a choice, was there? So I did it – had to. Went to my room where he wouldn’t hear and rang the hospital. The police and ambulance got here in seven minutes. Danny stirred bit when he heard the siren but didn’t cotton on until they came in. I’d left the door open. I thought he might go ballistic when he saw them, but he didn’t. He cried, which was worse, and when they’d gone I cried too. That was this morning and I’ve been crying on and off ever since – haven’t even cleared the place up. If Marz comes homes she’ll throw a fit. And where is she? My life sucks.

Home Alone

2005-12-29T08:28:00.000-08:00

Danny’s pretty bad, not eating or drinking much, just lying there on the settee under the duvet. I’ve been here all the time trying not to speak much cos that annoys him, just being around in case he needs me. It’s worse at night when he’s alone. Last night I found him on the floor after his shouts woke me up but couldn’t see him at first. He was behind the chair curled like a baby inside its mother, hands over his ears, yelling stuff I can’t write here. He won’t let me near when he’s like that. I’m trying to get the omega 3 into everything he eats or drinks and he hasn’t noticed so far but I think he needs more – some stronger stuff. And I don’t know how long I can manage alone. Sooner or later the food’ll run out and I’ll have to leave him.

Found myself looking up the number of the hospital after the last attack. Would I have the nerve to ring them? I don’t know. I’ve wanted him to myself for so long and I’ve got him now as Marz still hasn’t come back, but I’m worried about her too. Where the hell has she got to? She’s never been gone this long before – suppose some bloke has murdered her? When will I have to ring the police and report her missing? And Danny’s moaning again…

Troubles

2005-12-27T12:23:00.000-08:00

Danny came back at half past eleven Christmas night – alone. Told me in a couple of words that Marz had gone off with some bloke then wrapped himself in the spare duvet and went to sleep on the settee. I watched TV for a while longer then went to bed but a few hours later woke up to all this shouting and yelling. Thought for a minute Marz had come home but it was Danny, his old trouble back again. I flew in there, tried to hold him but he fought me off like a bloody devil calling me some name I didn’t recognise. I kept saying all quiet and firm, ‘Danny, it’s Jazz, it’s Jazz,’ but it was as if he didn’t hear me and I had to back off or get hurt. I didn’t know what the hell to do, just had to watch him screaming and tearing at his face, then suddenly he seemed to see me and curled up, started to cry.

I went to him then, put my arms around him, stroked his hair. It’s the closest we’ve ever ever been and it felt so good. But it’s not the way I wanted it to be. I knew this would happen if he didn’t keep taking the medication and the omega 3, went back to drinking, taking stuff.

Boxing Day he slept on and off all day, exhausted. I was pretty shattered myself after the busy week and everything, mostly watched TV, got us some food. He’s been OK since tho.Now I’m worried about Marz. Tuesday evening and she’s still not back.

Merry Christmas?

2005-12-25T08:25:00.000-08:00

Well, Christmas day and here I am all on my own. Marz and Danny were off out last night just as I got in and I haven’t seen them since. I’m almost tempted to go down the Day Centre and hang out there except I’d be bound to see Pete and I don’t need that sort of aggravation.

I could walk along to see Tapan and Binita – I wouldn’t be intruding as I don’t s’pose they’ll be celebrating Christmas – but even tho I like them a lot they’re not family and that’s what I need right now, even if all the family I have is an old slapper who hits the bottle. I don’t count Danny as family, tho I did once – that’s out the window. And the job’s finished – Adrian says he’ll be cleared out by New Year – so I’ll have to decide what I’m going to do, carry on at college or get something more permanent. I could try to catch up with the course reading I s’pose but I’m not in the mood.

Spent this morning photographing the dolls – arranged them around the table, laid it with plates, a single bubble gum ball on each one, tinsel and a tiny Christmas tree Adrian gave me in the centre of the table. Nicely surreal. If I didn’t know that Marz is bloody indestructible I’d be worried now. I wonder where they’ve gone? Maybe I’ll watch some TV till they get back.

In the Dark

2005-12-22T13:58:00.000-08:00

I was late out of work tonight. Adrian was locking up when I left and the street seemed empty but when I turned into the passage I thought I heard footsteps behind me. For a second I wondered if he’d followed me, then remembered Pete. I walked the quieter streets with pricked ears, turning once or twice to catch him out but saw nothing, thought I must be cracking up. I was still spooked when I got to Naidoo’s so I dodged in and sidled around the shelves. I stayed awhile pretending to decide what to buy until Mr Naidoo, whose name is Tapan, made me go into the back to see Binita. We were drinking char and eating more of the little yellow cakes when he came back.

‘Jazz,’ he said, ‘is it possible that you are being followed?’

I jumped half out of my skin – I’d forgotten Pete what with the char and everything. I told him about the feeling I’d had on the way there and about Pete, and Tapan asked me what he looked like.

‘That’s him precisely,’ he said when I’d described the big old coat and the cowboy hat. ‘He’s just across the road in the doorway of the empty house. Shall I telephone the police?’

I said no, thinking maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea what with Marz and Danny both on their books, so Tapan had a think and then lit up like a light bulb.

‘I have just this moment thought of a plan,’ he smiled. He spoke to Binita in Hindi as she doesn’t understand much English and she smiled too and beckoned me, took me by the hand.

I was totally in the dark as we went up the stairs and wondered what the hell I’d got myself into when she gestured for me to take off my puffy jacket and then began to undo my pink top with her long fingers. She had to open her wardrobe, show me all her saris hanging there like the wings of tropical birds and make all sorts of signs before I finally caught on.

Fifteen minutes later Tapan walked me home. We could just see Pete in the shadows by the front door of the empty house as we left the shop, unmistakable in the big coat and the cowboy hat. I was wearing one of Binita’s saris and her spare winter coat, her black gloves. She’d darkened my face with charcoal from one of the barbeque sets and covered my pale hair with a black scarf, draped the end of the sari over my head. I almost laughed aloud tripping along the cold pavement in her little heels, my trainers and other stuff in a plastic bag. It had been fun getting dressed up. Binita showed me how to pleat the sari through your fingers, how to tuck it in to the underskirt so it didn’t slip.

Tapan made sure I got in okay then went back to Binita. Marz nearly had a fit when she saw me, and I got more attention from Danny than I have since I brought him home. Maybe he likes this look. I could wear a sari sometimes, darken my face. It might be interesting.

Lull before the Storm?

2005-12-21T11:40:00.000-08:00

Marz is being nice to me, giving me money to buy food, sometimes even shopping and cooking so there’s something ready when I get home. Trouble is, she tries to make me eat too much, watches every mouthful. And it’s unnerving – part of me likes this almost normal Marz but the other part (the bigger one) knows she’s going to blow eventually and just wants to get it over and done with. If I didn’t know her better I’d say maybe she’s feeling guilty about filching Danny, not that he was ever really mine. Danny himself’s much the same as the Danny I knew at Middleton once I’d let him know how I felt about him. He doesn’t speak much, mostly ignores me, comes and goes. I told him about Pete, asked how he knew.

‘That guy in the trench coat? Yeah,’ he said, ‘met him at the Day Centre. His girlfriend’s crazy.’

‘Why d’you go to the Day Centre?’ I asked him, ‘and how did he know who you were?’

‘I get hungry,’ says Danny, and there’s not always food here. They give you a free meal. Don’t keep asking me stuff, Jazz, you know it does my head in.’

So I just handed him the omega 3 caps I’d bought in my lunchbreak, not a word, and went to my room.

I’ve been thinking too. Maybe I won’t go back to college. Maybe I’ll just get a job in a shop or something – Hennes, maybe even Monsoon, somewhere I can get stuff at a discount. Let’s get Christmas over first tho.

I’ve bought Danny a sweatshirt, got Marz a bottle of Poison from some guy selling them on the street. She’ll never know the difference.

Stalker

2005-12-20T11:40:00.000-08:00

My mobile went off at work today. Lucky I was in the loo or I’d have had to switch it off without answering. Or maybe not. It was that guy Pete from the Day Centre.

‘Hi Jazz,’ he says, as if he’s some kind of a friend or something, ‘It’s Pete.’

‘Pete who?’ I said, even tho I’d have known that cracked up voice anywhere.

‘Pete, Pete who got you soup,’ he says, ‘and guess what? I think I know where you can find that Danny guy of yours.’

I hang up. He’s got nothing I want and that girlfriend of his is crazy – she’s on some poison I’d say. The next thing I know there he is looking through the shop window at me, same old trenchcoat but the knitted hat has gone and it’s a black cowboy hat tilted over one eye and a grin like a bloody pirate. I wave him away but he comes right on in.

‘We musta got cut off,’ he says, ‘that’s unless you hung up on me. You wouldn’t do that Jazz, would you?’

‘Too right I would,’ I say, ‘please fuck off.’

‘That’s a nice way to talk to an old friend,’ he says. ‘Don’t you want to know where to find your boyfriend?’

‘I’ve already found him,’ I said. ‘Anyway, how did you know I was here?’

He grins again, tho maybe it’s more of a leer, teeth lost either side, all that’s missing a black patch over one eye and a gold earring.

‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you,’ he says, ‘not much goes on without ole Pete knowing.’

Lucky for me Adrian, the manager comes over just then, asks if he can help and bloody Pete fucks off. ‘Keep in touch,’ he says, winking.

I half expected to find him waiting for me when I finished tonight, but thank the stars and stripes he wasn’t. I hope he doesn’t know where I live – he can’t do or he wouldn’t have thought I’d want to know where Danny is. Less than a week to go now. I’ll be sorry to lose this job. I like wrapping things, making them mysterious and pretty.

Better or Worse?

2005-12-18T11:30:00.000-08:00

I left for work before she was up this morning. The settee was empty – no Danny – I s’pose he was in with the old woman. I still had his key so unless she got the lock changed again I knew I’d be OK after work. Still, Marz is predictably unpredictable, especially when she’s on the hard stuff, so you can never really tell what sort of mood she’s going to be in. She could just as easily have forgotten about the locks as be waiting to spring on me with her claws out.

It’s funny, I still care about Danny and what happens to him but sleeping with Marz has wrecked the other feelings and just left a sort of desolation. I don’t know how I feel about her – maybe deadened – I’m not sure.

Called in on the Naidoos on the way home, bought fish fingers and oven chips, oranges for vitamin C. Binita made me char and fed me Indian snacks – samoosas, bhjajis and something called dal mooth. I stayed for ages, nibbling away like a starved rabbit, putting off the moment of truth I s’pose. Felt sick when I got outside.

Marz hadn’t locked me out tho. The key turned in the door and there was Danny watching TV and the smell of Spaghetti Bolognese escaping from the kitchen. I can’t remember when she last cooked anything decent.

‘Dinner in ten minutes, Jazz, OK?’ she yelled over the sound of White Christmas.

But I couldn’t face it. Just made it to the loo in time, lost all those spicy things down the pan.

Saturday Shut Out

2005-12-18T00:31:00.000-08:00

I got home from work to find my key didn’t fit. She’s only had the locks changed. I stood there banging on the door and yelling until Mrs Barnes came down from the top flat, but there was nothing she could do to help, although she did offer to make me a cup of tea before fading slowly upstairs again. I sat in the passage and waited thinking someone would have to come back soon, then I’d get in, but it was half eleven before Danny turned up alone. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

Why did you do it, Danny?’ I asked.

‘Nothing to do with me,’ he said, ‘and anyway she’s pretty set against you at the moment – what could I do? You shouldn’t have pulled her onto the floor like that.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ I said, ‘and anyway, did she look bothered? Why did you get involved with her? I don’t get it.’

‘That’s just it,’ he said, I’m not involved. She doesn’t want anything from me,no demands, no complications. She says I can come and go, fuck off when I like, I don’t have to love her.’

I was feeling sick again. ‘Just give me your key,’ I said, and he did. I went to my room, locked the door. Marz isn’t going to turn me out so easily. It’s cold out there tonight.

Conflagration

2005-12-16T10:52:00.000-08:00

Incendiary, that’s what today’s been. I must have fallen asleep in the end because I didn’t hear Marz come in. I got up and went to make a cup of tea, checked her room on the way. She wasn’t there. Imagined her in some bloke’s bed somewhere in this crazy town – she could be dead for all I knew. How to get yourself murdered – go with anyone who wants it. I shut her door – she doesn’t like me looking in her room. Then I saw the clothes through the sitting room door. Just dropped on the floor as bloody usual. I sort of knew what I’d find then, but somewhere a little bit of hope stayed breathing. Not for long tho. There they were tangled up on the settee, her and Danny and the smell of cheap brandy and weed. God, she looks rough when she’s asleep. I just stood there for a moment, then shot across the floor and grabbed her by the hair, called her a slut and a slapper and a frigging whore, and other things I can’t put here and pulled her off him onto the carpet hanging onto the duvet off her bed. She just lay there laughing, one tit out. She must really hate me. Danny was awake by then. I turned on him, asked him how he could stomach doing it with someone old enough to be his mother, then remembered the crazy woman and thought well, he must just fancy old women or else he hates me too and knows what’d hurt more than almost anything.

‘I told you you and me were never going to get together,’ he said, all quiet and compelling like he was trying to hypnotise me.

‘Yeah, but you didn’t have to screw my mother,’ I told him. ‘Maybe she jumped you, I don’t know, it’s the sort of trick she’d pull on someone, but you couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t wanted to.’

He just looked at me, sad-like. ‘Sometimes a warm body is what you need,’ he said, ‘someone to hold you.’

‘I’d have held you, Danny,’ I said. Then the bitch chips in.

‘Jazz, dear,’ she says, all poisoned honey, ‘it’s time you cottoned on that a man likes something to grab hold of, a nice cushiony pair to rest his head on. Look at you – you’re all knees and elbows and sticking out hips – not a booby in sight, soft or otherwise – isn’t that right Danny?’

I didn’t wait to hear what he said. I ran off to my room, got dressed and left them to it, got to Secrets early and couldn’t get in, stood in the doorway looking at all that Christmas stuff and wanting to cry again. I can’t go on like this.

Sticky

2005-12-15T11:29:00.000-08:00

Marz and Danny are as thick as toffee. It makes me ill to go out and leave the pair of them knowing what I’ll find when I get back. Danny doesn’t say much – neither of them does come to that – but it’s as if she’s his best friend or his sister or something, even tho she’s a good fifteen years older than him. I hate her. I don’t think Danny has been out since I brought him home, but she must have been buying food cos they were eating fish and chips when I got home. Fish is good – those omega oils – are they in white fish? I can’t remember. Afterwards she got all slappered up in her tight black skirt and silver top and went out on the pull and I sat down next to Danny on the settee.

I tried to be careful as I didn’t want to annoy him or scare him off.

‘What now, Danny,’ I said, and he looked at me with those black eyes of his, head on one side and the light from the lamp shining through his hair.

‘Chill out,’ was all he said. I’m not whether he meant I should or he was going to, but I didn’t ask just in case, tho he seemed pretty relaxed. I looked at his hand resting on his knee, wanted to touch those long fingers, slide my hand underneath them, but I didn’t. Went and made us some coffee instead. When I got back he was asleep so I covered him with the blanket and went to bed. I lay in bed with the poor little brain chasing its tail, not a chance of sleeping, so I got up and here I am. Another day wrapping tomorrow. I like it tho – all those shiny papers and ribbons, taking care with measuring, making a good job of it. One man gave me a quid tip, said I was a artist. Having to concentrate is restful – no time to think of other things – yet I’m always tired at six when the shop shuts.

Maybe I’ll read in bed till I hear Marz come in.

Christmas Cheer

2005-12-14T10:37:00.000-08:00

I took a chance and went in yesterday, but on the way there changed my mind and walked through town, thought maybe I could find a job in the run up to Christmas. I won’t miss too much at college and can maybe catch up next term.

Some sort of feeding frenzy going on, even that early in the morning with over a week to go, people shopping as if when this lot’s sold out there’ll be no more stuff in the shops – ever. It took a couple of hours but I did it – got a job wrapping pressies in a gift shop – one of those that appear a few weeks before and disappear on Christmas morning – Christmas Secrets it was called. The girl they hired last week had let them down and things were hectic. Spent the rest of the day wrapping after a short training period to get the hang of things, came away with cash in hand. Not bad either.

Then I’m walking along this empty street past these homes all got up with lights and reindeer and santas, flashing trees and carols playing and god knows what and thinking how sinister they look, like gingerbread houses to lure children in and wondering what I’m going to find when I get back.

And suddenly I’m shattered and hoping Marz has got some food in and that Danny hasn’t legged it. And then I’m there and it’s almost worse than if he has ‘cos the place stinks and there’s Marz and Danny sprawled on the settee passing a spliff one to the other and drinking vodka and I’m screaming ‘Danny, what the bloody hell are you doing with that stuff when it’s what made you ill?’ and turning on Marz and giving her a mouthful. And she’s saying that if I’m going to have men in my room the least I could do is to introduce them to her first as it’s only polite to do so.

So I go off and have a cry but no one comes in to see how I am so after a while I get up and go out and get some food at Mr Naidoo’s as Marz probably had something before she came home but I know they’ll both be hungry soon. And I’m wondering whose stuff it is and thinking the pair of them are hopeless and Danny’ll be hearing voices again at this rate and what the hell am I going to do.

Mr Naidoo notices straight away. ‘You’ve been crying,’ he says, and I ask how he knows and he says that I look like a panda as all my mascara has smudged, and he makes me come into the back and sit down and Binita gives me char and little cakes.

That was yesterday. Wrapping again today and Danny and Marz stoned when I got home. I’m so tired.

Danny

2005-12-12T11:20:00.000-08:00

I’m typing this on my laptop in the sitting room. Danny’s asleep in my bed – been there all afternoon. So yeah, he did come home with me (dossed down on my bedroom floor), but I’d have been happier if he’d been just a tiny bit pleased to see me. He’d been sleeping at Middleton and gone out to find some food, come back and heard me calling in the house and was on his way off out again. I told him I’d been looking for him and worried sick but all he said was that I’d no right to worry about about him as we’re not getting together, not ever and I’m saying ‘Why not, Danny, why not, everyone needs someone and I could help you get better – the omega oils were doing you good till things went wrong,’ and he’s saying that I’m not his type and just a kid and what the hell do I want all these dolls for anyway? and don’t bother answering as he doesn’t feel like talking. And I’m saying that we’ve got to talk and sort things out and I’m not asking to sleep with him or anything but we’ll have to sleep in my room or Marz’ll know something’s up. I’m not going to tell her Danny’s here – she’d only go mental. I’ve put the DO NOT DISTURB sign up that I filched from Pia at Middleton so if he’s here alone Marz won’t go in or bother him long as he’s quiet. She sleeps in the day anyway and she’ll think it’s just me in there. Now I’m wondering whether I dare to leave him and go to college or if it’s best to stay home. I was at home all day today hoping he’d talk to me, make a plan, but he was like Zippy with the zip closed. I’ll let him sleep now. Maybe things’ll be better tomorrow.

Eureka!

2005-12-11T11:09:00.000-08:00

I’m half wasted today. Yesterday nearly did my head in. I caught the train to Kingston and wandered along to Middleton, not expecting to find anything – it just seemed a good place to start. Wasn’t too bad either until the crazy woman turned up and spoiled things.Weird to see it boarded up like that when just a month or so ago it was home of a sort. I tried to ring Sandy but all I got was her answer machine. Bloody hell, I thought, I’ve come all this way for nothing. Then I got some sort of odd craving to see inside, snooped all the way round the outside and KEEP OUT stuck up everywhere before finding a gap in the wire (lucky I’m not too fat) and getting close, trying to see through the cracks in the boards covering the windows. I was thinking that if the builders were meant to be coming as Sandy said, no one would mind too much if I broke in, then I thought, why should I care if they did? Being Saturday of course, no one was working on it. Then this feeling crept over me that Danny was inside. Told myself, YOU WISH, but all the same once you’ve had a thought like that it’s hard to let it go. I just had to get in then, didn’t I? Went round the back where I couldn’t be overlooked and tried to find a hammer or some tool to use as a lever, but not a bloody thing. Then I remembered the window of the upstairs loo that doesn’t shut properly and thought if I could find something to stand on I might be able to get up onto that bit of flattish roof, slip my hand in and open it. No ladder, not even an old table or chair. I was just thinking of leaving when I tried the handle of the back door and – straight up – it opened! I slipped inside easy as a double vodka over Marz tongue and shut the door behind me, stood there in the dim and quiet, listening, remembering when the house had been alive. Ted’s old sax smooching down the passage, Eva singing in the kitchen and the smell of soul food, the TV on downstairs and maybe Danny’s Eminem CD jumping.
Now I was in it didn’t feel as though Danny was around. I walked through the rooms just to make sure tho. Everything was gone – all bare floorboards and echoes. I called out Danny’s name just to hear it, to imagine him answering, then got sick and ran downstairs again. I was halfway out the door when I saw him, folding his long body through the gap in the wire. I screamed out and he turned for a second which was just enough time for me to leg it across the grass and grab his jumper.
‘Danny, Danny, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ I almost yelled. ‘I’ve been so worried and here you are trying to get away from me and I just want to help,’ and Danny’s saying, ‘It’s no good Jazz,’ and his look is killing me and ‘I’m not going back to the hospital.’ And I’m still holding onto his jumper but he’s back in the garden now and standing looking at me and I’m thinking that I can’t let him get away again now I’ve found him.
‘You know I wouldn’t dob you in,’ I’m saying, and he’s saying ‘Yeah,’ you’re the one who kept on at me to keep taking the tablets and I told you I didn’t want to,’ and I’m saying, ‘OK, OK, Danny, whatever you want, only come home with me now and we’ll talk about what to do, you can’t stay here.’

Idea!

2005-12-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

Danny’s been missing almost a week now and no news. Mr Naidoo cashed the cheque for me and I went shopping after college to cheer myself up. It’s sweet the way he tries to feed me whenever I buy things there; today he nipped into the back room to get a samoosa his wife had just deep fried – ‘Taste it now, eat it all and tell me what you think…’ and ‘I want to know if people would buy these if I put a few in the shop.’ It’s as if he doesn’t trust me to eat the stuff I buy for me and Marz. Mind you, he’s more expensive than the Co-op, but open nearly all the time. Not much of a life but he doesn’t seem to mind. His wife’s name is Binita and he made her come out to say hello but she doesn’t speak much English and seemed very shy. Her sari was exactly the same shade of orange as the tray of mandarins in the vegetable display.

I was in Etam looking at some pink jeans when the idea hit me. I must still have Sandy’s number somewhere, or if not I could probably get it from Social Services. Danny may have contacted her to try and find that crazy woman he thought could help him – he won’t know she’s gone to Oz, as I never told him. It’s a chance, tho a pretty thin one. But thinking on, it’s more likely he’ll have gone to Kingston – there’d be a chance one of the others might be able to tell him where she is and he knows where Eva works. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get on the train, wander around, see what’s happening. Maybe it’ll come to nothing but it’ll be better than eating myself up like this.

No News Good News?

2005-12-08T11:52:00.000-08:00

I’d forgotten about the hospital what with all the carry on so I rang them this morning. I knew they wouldn’t tell me anything, as Danny and me, we’re not related, so I said I was his sister just arrived from Australia and trying to trace him. Almost got away with it too, but the receptionist or whatever she was must have gotten suspicious ‘cos she asked me to hold the line and put me through to Ms Monotone, and the next thing I know she’s saying, ‘Danny’s sister? I’m afraid we have no record of him having a sister, but if you come along to the hospital with some form of identification we may be able to help you.’ And I’m acting dumb and saying that I’m over two hours away and I’ve heard he’s left the hospital and do they have any idea where I can contact him? and she’s just repeating what she said before with her voice all smug patience and I know bloody well she knows it’s me and I’m kicking myself for trying it on as my Oz accent’s pretty rubbishy and probably gave me away. More thinking needed re. Danny I s’pose. Wish I could get my head around some half-decent plan.

One good thing though – a cheque arrived this morning – the pay I was owed from those three Saturdays at Retro Specs. I would have stayed if it hadn’t been for that Sami and her snide remarks. I s’pose I’ll have to find something else soon but at least I can stock up on bubblegum and Babe, and Marz gets paid tomorrow so we’ll be OK for a while.

Of course I was in trouble at college ‘cos of running out yesterday, but I told them Marz’d rung and I’d had to get to her quickly. They’ve known about her bouts of bingeing since she turned up there looking for me one morning and ended up passing out and cracking her head on the tiled floor in the entrance. They insisted on calling an ambulance and I had to go with her to the hospital with everyone flapping around and all the others looking and whispering. How embarrassing is that?

Must try to get some work done, I’m falling behind. Wish I didn’t care about Danny. Please let him be OK.

Close One

2005-12-07T12:25:00.000-08:00

On edge today in case Danny rang. The odds were pretty thin but you never know. We’re s’posed to switch them off but of course I couldn’t and what happened but it rang Crazy Frog right in the middle of English. Ms Beckley had barely looked over the top of her glasses with her mouth open like a goldfish and ‘Bring that to m….’ when I was out the door and running along the corridor with my finger on the button gasping Danny, is that you and ‘Jazz, sorry Doll, it’s Pete.’

‘Pete?’ I said, ‘I don’t know any Petes, you’ve got the wrong number,’ and was just about to cut off when he said, ‘Pete, you know, Pete from the Day Centre, we had soup together,’ and 'What do you want?’ I’m saying and my stomach knotting up and me remembering I’ve had nothing since the spare ribs and chips Marz brought home last night and that I wished to hell I hadn’t eaten. And then he’s asking me to meet him and ‘No’ I’m saying, ‘I told you I had a boyfriend,’ and he’s going ‘Yeah, that crazy who went missing from the hospital,’ and ‘I might be able to help, meet me at the Centre any time today or tomorrow and don’t mind Calla, she gets jealous but I’ll keep her steady,’ and I can’t take it all in as I’m seeing the red feather boa woman all swelled up and floating on the sea and this guy Pete sitting astride and steering her with a paddle, but I say OK to shut him up and cut the mobile off and wonder if he straight up or handing me a line.

And then there’s nothing to do but go to the centre and see what he’s got to say even tho I’m thinking he can’t know a thing about Danny but what’s been in the paper but I can’t take a chance on that.

When I get there he’s sitting outside on the steps, trench coat, black knitted hat, leather gauntlets and cowboy boots same as yesterday. Probably the only stuff he’s got. Mind you I was in my puffy jacket again, but pink and silver striped tights this time tho, and my black mini instead of the pink one. He looked at me funny.

‘OK,’ I said, ‘what’s it all about?’ just wanting to find out if he knows anything and get away from there.

‘Where’re you kipping down, Doll?’ he says, ‘it must be pretty fucking good with you got up like that,’ and I’m thinking, hey, you might have my number but I’m not telling you, Mister, so I turn on him and hiss that if he doesn’t have any stuff on Danny I’m out of here. The next thing I know he’s grabbed my wrist and I’m trying to get away but he’s a big guy and strong with it. I aim a kick at his shin and jerk my arm and leg it down the street and I can hear him laughing as I run, then a woman’s voice yelling ‘FUCK OFF, YOU LITTLE SLUT.’ I’ve just gotta find Danny soon.

Soup and Feathers

2005-12-06T11:34:00.000-08:00

I can’t go in to college until I know what’s happened to Danny. I decided to spend another day in town and if he didn’t appear I’d ring that place and ask if they had any news of him. That was when the big idea hit me. If Danny turns up he’ll be looking for me, and with nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat where would he go? Not to the police station that’s for sure, but maybe to the Day Centre for the homeless. He’s been homeless before so he knows about those places. So I asked a Big Issue seller where it was and in less time than it takes Mar to knock back a tenner’s worth of vodka I was talking to this guy serving some sort of soup from a cauldron.
‘Get in the frigging queue, sister,’ this slapper hisses at me. She’s all got up in someone’s old curtains with Doc Marten’s and a red feather boa that waves about and sticks to her lipstick so she has to keep picking at her mouth.
‘Keep your pants on,’ I tell her, I’m not here to eat.
‘Are you sure?’ she says all sly like. ‘You don’t look as tho you’ve had a decent meal in your whole bloody life.’
‘Here love,’ says this bloke ahead of her, ‘squeeze in front of me before you disappear.’
Bloody nerve. But I did anyway as there didn’t seem much chance of asking about Danny unless I got in that shitty queue. Big mistake. Nearly caused a fight that did. They say women are the worst and they’re not wrong. Everyone was yelling and the guy with the cauldron couldn’t make himself heard and then a girl came out of a door and took me off and asked what all the row was about. So I told her I was looking for someone and asked if I could leave a message on the notice board and she said OK. I had to be careful not to say too much cos Danny’s wanted but she seemed nice and said she’d point anyone asking about me to my message. And now I had a problem as I wanted to leave my mobile number and there’s nothing left on my card and I’ve no money for another. So I told this girl but she said she couldn’t really help as then she’d have to do the same for everyone but to sit down for moment and she’d be back. And then the bloke in the queue brought me over some soup and that almost started another fight with the woman in the feathers but the soup guy told her she’d have to go if she caused any more trouble so she shut up then. The soup was good – meat and potatoes and carrots and stuff and I ate it all with the bloke chatting me up but I told him I had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested and then he looked funny and got up and walked back to the slapper and I saw them talking and looking over at me. But I didn’t care because by that time the girl had come back with a Pay as You Go card from her old mobile that she’d found in her office and I was out of there. Nothing to do now but wait.

Shooting Pigeons

2005-12-05T11:31:00.000-08:00

I hung around town all day hoping Danny’d managed to get here. I daresay he’d think to hitch a lift and there might have been time to get clear the other end before the police started looking for him. I asked at the bus and railway stations but all I got were blank looks and shrugs so I just wandered. I’d taken the camera to help pass the time and give me something to do and spent a while stalking the sick pigeons and seeing how close a shot I could get before they took off. They all seemed to have something wrong with their feet – usually they’re red and curled or maybe twisted. Some have missing toes and one had even lost a whole foot and was rolling along on a stump. I got a great photo of a pigeon sitting in the traffic lights and turning red and warm when the lights changed but I got bored after a while and started stealing shots of the homeless in shop doorways, all bundled and crouched tight against the cold. That brought Danny’s trouble back again and I kept my eyes well skinned in case I missed him while I was looking through the viewfinder. He couldn’t have missed me tho. I’d worn my pink puffy jacket with the fake-fur-trimmed hood, pink skirt and tights and pink and silver trainers. I said I liked pink and I wasn’t joking. Silver rucksack for the camera.

I reckon that if he comes here he’s looking for me, his only friend, right? So he’s not going to avoid me, even tho he wasn’t too friendly the last time I saw him. Maybe the escape was using up all his thinking and he had none to spare on me. You’d have thought he’d have mentioned it – he could have asked me for Marz address and he knows I’d wouldn’t dob him in.

Around two I had a bit of a smack in the mouth. I walked past a newsagent and picked up a paper. It seems they think Danny disappearing like that is news enough to go in the local paper – not on the front page but just inside. There was a picture of him too: Have You Seen This Man? and a short paragraph about being unstable and possibly violent and not to approach him but to dial 999. Straight up - it nearly made me sick. But it wasn’t a very good photo as it was taken a year ago and his hair's much longer now so I don’t reckon anyone will recognise him from it.

Marz had gone again by the time I got home but she’d written a note in lipstick and stuck it on the fridge. It said: DON’T EVER DARE GO IN MY PRIVATE STUFF AGAIN YOU LITTLE COW AND I WANT THAT TWENTY BACK.

I made a bacon sarnie with loads of HP then I made another one to finish off the bacon.

What can I do now but wait and keep thinking and hoping?

Thinking Day

2005-12-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

Thinking, thinking all day long till my head hurts, but at least Marz came back. There was a trail of clothes all along the passageway and when I opened her door a crack she looked so rough I thought she was dead – two bruised eyes in a face like week-old pastry and tortured hair spread on the pillow like spaghetti. There should be a law against bleaching hair to within an inch of its life – not that she’d take any notice if there was. She hadn’t brought any food home so I went along to Naidoo’s on the corner and blew the rest of the twenty on a loaf and some milk, eggs and bacon, HP sauce, tea and coffee – what’s the point in saving it when Danny could be anywhere? Marz didn’t surface till half past four in spite of the smell of cooking bacon, and then only when I took her in a cuppa.

‘Where’ve you been,’ I said, ‘I was worried.’

She laughed like one of those bloody magpies that hang around the park opposite, but ended up coughing and had to light a fag before she could speak.

‘Who the hell’s the kid around here?’ she said, so I left her to it. There’s no sense in Marz after she’s been out drinking.

But Marz coming home doesn’t fix the problem of Danny. Where would he go? I can’t stand to think of him out in the cold with no cash and he hates talking to people so he’s not going to ask anyone for help. Would he try to find me? I don’t know. Ms Monotone said I must contact the police if he does – ‘Keep him with you and call 999,’ she said, ‘he might be dangerous.’ I laughed at that. ‘Danny’s not dangerous,’ I said, ‘never has been. And he was getting better before you lot got your hands on him again.’

She quivered and swelled a bit then and said all prim, ‘I’m not going to argue with you. His history is well documented, and I’d like to remind you that it was violence that necessitated bringing him back here. It seems he’d been neglecting to take his medication whilst at Middleton House and was hearing the voices again.’ Yeah, right, I thought, but I didn’t say it.

Instead I looked her in the eye and asked if it was quite the professional thing to be telling me this and what about patient confidentiality and all that, and before I knew it I was out of there and the nurse was marching me along the corridor. Danny, where the hell are you?

Lucky Day?

2005-12-03T10:26:00.000-08:00

Marz didn’t come back last night. I sat at the kitchen table wondering where she was and how to get the train fare to go and see Danny, then I remembered the cake tin under her bed where she keeps things she doesn’t want me to know about. There’s never much interesting in it, usually just her vibrator and condoms, and I don’t know why she wants to keep me from seeing those. But I pulled it out anyway and tipped the lot on the duvet. I reckoned then it was my lucky day cos I found a twenty rolled up at the bottom. Lucky day? I should've known better.

There was nothing decent to eat in the place but I wasn’t going to spend it on food so I tipped some cocoa, peanut butter, syrup and some sultanas that I found in the back of the cupboard into a bowl and mixed it all up with a little hot water and cooked it in the microwave. It wasn’t half bad, but I ate too much of it and had to go and be sick again.

So there’s Jazz feeling a bit rough yet wanting to go and see Danny and wondering if she’ll make it to the station but in the end she gets into her puffy pink jacket and trainers and that seems to do the trick and she’s out the door.

It was midday by the time I’d walked from the station at the other end and I wandered about looking for him until one of the nurses grabbed me. I shook her off and gave her a mouthful but she marched me along to this office where some hard woman in a suit was trying to be busy in among a pile of papers.
‘Here she is,’ said the nurse, ‘I found her in the TV room looking for him.’
‘Ah,’ said the suit, no colour about her at all, not even lipstick to relieve the grey. Ms Monotone. ‘Please sit down young lady.’
Young lady! I mean! No one’s called me that since Mrs Parsons when I was seven. But I sat down anyway and waited to see what it was all about, wishing she’d get a move on so I could go and find Danny. I wasn’t ready for what she said though. It seems Danny disappeared sometime yesterday after tea. At first they just did a search, not too worried as Danny’s a bit elusive like, but when he couldn’t be found they called in the police to make a proper job of it. They turned the place over. No Danny. It seems someone remembered then that I was his only proper visitor and thought he might have run off to me. But not knowing who or where I was they’ve given my description to the bloody police! But, says the suit, you’re clearly no wiser than we are as to where Danny’s gone. Too right.

I was trying to think. Danny doesn’t know Mar’s address except for the town so he’d have a job finding me. Where would he go with no money or anything? They let me leave after asking a load of questions and taking my address – I made that up though, just in case Danny finds me and I need to keep him out of their way. What the hell am I going to do now?

Dreams

2005-12-02T13:18:00.000-08:00

Woke too soon and left a dream with hands that supported me in the warm air, somewhere high above everything, my own hands cupping something fragile and only half guessed at – a blackbird’s egg or a tiny baby no bigger than a thumb, like the rabbit foetus I found once, silvery grey with sealed eyes and the veins mapping its surface in some sort of strange blueprint. I can’t remember much about the dream except that I knew I was precious and that the hands cared about me as I cared about the creature I was holding. I've always believed that each dream has a meaning but I couldn't figure out what this one meant and I must have fallen asleep again because when I woke for the second time it was light and the alarm hadn’t gone off and she’d left for work. I felt so tired, as if I was jet-lagged – not that I know what that’s like as I’ve only ever been to Spain but I can imagine it. I crawled out of bed to get ready for college but began to shake and barely made it to the loo to be sick. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I can’t be pregnant – don’t ask how I know, I just do that’s all. I don’t drink so it wasn’t that either. I’ve been sleeping nearly all day and my skin is red and sore at the knees and hips where my bones rested on the mattress. I’m not too thin though – not as thin as Danny, but then he’s tall and that makes him look thinner than he is. If I feel better tomorrow I’ll go and see him again – get the train fare somehow. I mustn’t let his apathy and silence push me away – he needs someone and I’m all he’s got.

It’s after nine and she’s not back yet. I try not to think of what she’s doing or who she’s with. I know she’s old enough to look after herself but there are weirdos out there and she always seems to find them. Maybe she’ll bring some food back, but I’m not hungry and anyway it would only make me sick again.

Time Out

2005-12-01T11:49:00.000-08:00

I didn’t go in to college today. There wouldn’t have been much point as I can’t seem to concentrate – keep thinking about Danny and wondering when I’ll get to see him again and if he’ll talk to me next time. Things were good between us once but that seems a long time ago now – everything’s different since Middleton. I stayed in my room most of the day, photographing the dolls, making them interact with one another. It’s weird how their personalities seem to alter when you change their clothes. I took the doll I call Elvira who’s tall and thin and coffee-coloured and cut and thinned her long hair to a frizzled mop, painted her red lips a natural brownish pink and her brown irises black. I don’t know why I did that but when I’d finished it was like a smack in the mouth how like Danny she looked. I took off her red spotted dress and found some black trousers and a sweater that belonged to Justin, sat her in a makeshift chair with her long legs spread the way he sits, low down on the seat and staring at the ceiling, arms flopped over the sides, hands hanging like dead wings. Then I set the camera up and took some pictures from different angles, went and got Jazz (my special doll who looks like me) and put them together like we used to be, took some more, used up the roll. I need to get a digital camera for stuff like this as it’s getting expensive with all this developing, but you need a decent camera for the longer range stuff like people if you want them natural and unaware that someone’s stealing their image, and of course the special work. Maybe I could learn to do it myself – the developing that is – take an evening class or something.

When it got dark I went out to look for the little hedgehog but couldn’t find him. Under a streetlight a man and a woman – she blonde and middle-aged in a long pale coat with a fake fur collar. He had his back to me but was all bulky baldness shining in the orange light, his long hair tied in a grey ponytail at the back of his neck. Funny how men who’re losing their hair on top grow it long everywhere they can. Close they were like plotters talking low but they lapsed into silence as I walked past. I’d have liked to get a good look at them just in case they’re in the news later for murdering her husband or his wife but their eyes were pushing me off and I kept mine straight ahead.

Danny, Danny, Danny. I repeated his name all the way home in time with my footsteps until it became Edan, Edan, Edan. Eden, the garden of. Danny’s not Eden or paradise, I know that, but how I want him back as he was before.

Visiting time

2005-11-29T11:04:00.000-08:00

The first thing I’d better say is that I don’t always tell the truth. It’s not that I mean to lie or anything, just that something starts off some fantasy and it feels so real that afterwards it’s hard to tell the difference between what happened and what didn’t. So now that’s out the way you can’t say you weren’t warned.

Danny’s real enough though. I went to see him today, in that place. I hate it there – all their rat smiles and a hardness that comes from coping with the ones who couldn’t take it for whatever reason. If you knocked against one of them a bit would chip off. I don’t envy them that job though. I’d look after Danny if I was allowed – not that he needs the sort of care some of them do. He can wash and dress himself, clean his teeth, take himself to the toilet, eat with a knife and fork and when he’s out of there he’ll be his old self again, I know he will.

I found him in the TV room. He was the only one looking out of the window, blue sky like it was painted on and pigeons picking in the grass. I went up behind him and put my arms around his waist and he shook himself like a dog out of water, turned around and just looked at me as if he didn’t know me. ‘Danny, it’s Jazz,’ I said holding his hands, but he pulled them away, asked what I wanted. ‘I’ve come to see you,’ I said, and his lovely eyes, so black with no pupil to notice, all dead and not a feeling in them. At least there was nothing hard there, although give him too much longer in that place and I wouldn’t rule it out. Maybe it’s what they’ve got him on that’s blanking him out like that. I took his hand again, uncurled the long brown fingers one by one, got out the packet of Omega 3 capsules and gave it to him. ‘Stick them in your pocket, don’t let anyone see,’ I said. I told him; ‘One a day and don’t forget to take them, they’ll make you better. You were getting better before you smashed up that woman's room and they brought you back here.’

At least he can’t buy puff where he is now, that’s something, and I had this idea that I’d get a place and he could move in with me when they let him out but when I told him that he turned back to the window and told me to go away. After that I couldn’t make him talk to me so I just went.

On the way home in the dark I found a little hedgehog, very still. I bent down to look at it wondering if I ought to take it home and put it in a box of leaves or newspaper to hibernate – shouldn’t it be doing that by now? While I was thinking about how to pick it up without being prickled it ran across the road and almost got squashed by a car – and that would have been my fault – but it turned at the last second and ran under a parked car and I left it. I wish I’d brought it back – it’s hellish cold out there tonight.