Page 59 of Cross Her Heart

61

BEFORE

1989

She needs to find Katie. Only Katie can make her feel better. Katie will be waiting for her. But to get to Katie she has to leave her bedroom. She’s been curled up on her bed, mattress wet with piss, a chair up against the door, all morning. No one’s tried to come in. Her head thumps. The pills don’t make her feel good any more, just as if she’s somewhere behind a glass wall away from the rest of the world and her thinking is foggy. She wants to take another one anyway. She’s got a packet stashed in her jacket pocket. Ma will have to get some more, but fuck her. Nothing can get any worse.

Ma has been at Jean’s house overnight. A girls’ night and then shopping today for her birthday, that’s what Jean told Tony when she came over yesterday. She said it in her ‘no arguments’ voice. Jean’s the only one who can do that with Tony. When he started to complain she said Charlotte could look after Daniel –Won’t do the girl any harm to have some responsibility, she’s off the rails, any fool can see– and even though Ma protested a little, that was that, a bag was packed, and they were gone. No one argues with Jean.

If Ma had been here, thethingwith Tony wouldn’t have happened. Ma might be a bitch but she wouldn’t stand for it. Not for Charlotte but for herself. It’s hazy in her head and if she wasn’t sore and bruised, she’d wonder if it was some horrible dream.

It was late. It was dark. She was asleep. She’d shoved Daniel in front of shite cartoons with beans on toast before retreating to her room and drinking some of the cheap vodka kept hidden under her bed, bought with money Katie had given her. Katie was worried about her. Katie wanted to help make it better. Katie warmed her more than the alcohol ever could but Katie wasn’t around often enough and Charlotte needed the booze to get through the days.

There wasn’t much left in the bottle. What had been asometimesthing had now changed into a habit but she didn’t want to think about that either. Anyway, everything would be different when she and Katie ran away. She wouldn’tneedthe drink then, they would have champagne in glasses like those Babycham ones, and it would be for fun and not to squash all the stuff that was burning to come out.Better out than in, dear.There wouldn’tbeanything to come out when it was only her and Katie. Everything would be perfect.

There would be no more nights like last night. She doesn’t want to think about it but she can’t stop thinking about it. She needs to leave her bedroom but she’s too scared. She needs Katie. She shuts her eyes against her headache but that sends her straight back to the darkness of last night. To what happened. Then, despite herself, it’s replaying in her head.

For a moment, when he’d opened the door, there’d just been a shape against the hall light. She remembers the sudden brightness and thinkingWhat shite is this, Daniel, what do you want now?before her brain woke up and realised that the figure there was far too big to be her little brother. Daniel was still sleeping safely in his cot. Daniel, always safe.

The door closed, leaving her with the terrible grunting, grumbling monster in the darkness. Sweat. Stink. A crushing weight. Hands, so many hands. His mutterings as his breath got faster. The shameful pain. The breath on her face. It was like the chippie, but worse, so much worse, because it was home and the monster in the dark was Tony, and he was doingitand they never diditin the chippie even if they wanted to, just all the other stuff, anditwas so much worse than she imagined and if he was doingit, then who would stop them doingitthere?

It didn’t last long, and then he was gone and she was left breathless and shaking and alone in the dark. She pissed herself after. Not even asleep this time. She just couldn’t move. She still can’t move. But she has to. Katie is waiting. She takes half of one of Ma’s pills and drags herself up. Her wet pyjamas are on the floor, the bottoms torn. She doesn’t look at them as she pulls on some pants and her jeans and jumper. She doesn’t look at her body either. She wants to scrub herself down to nothing, but not here, not if he’s in the house.

Dressed, she takes the vodka from under her bed and swallows two long mouthfuls, letting it burn her clean from the inside. She moves the chair and opens the door quietly. She’s afraid and she hates being afraid. She tries to turn it into anger, and she knows that will come, but not until she’s outside andaway.It’s hard to be angry feeling so small.

She can hear the TV’s on, some horse racing programme, and her legs shake as she comes down the stairs, slowly and carefully, staying quietand where is Ma if only Ma were here even if she was calling me a little bitch and a pain in the arse she’d be hereand wincing at any creak in the floorboard that might cause Tony to shout out to her or worse.

Her heart in her mouth, she peers into the sitting room. Beer cans on the floor. A takeaway box. Legs, dressed, stretched out on the sofa. A low growl of a sound. Snoring. Relief floods through her, a rush better than anything the pills can give her. Asleep. He’s asleep.

‘Charrot?’

She’s at the front door when the small voice stops her, and she turns to see Daniel, clutching Peter Rabbit, in the doorway of the sitting room.

‘Where you going, Charrot?’ he asks again. His voice is quiet but not quiet enough.

‘Out.’ It’s a whisper. Irritated. She wants to be gone.

‘I come?’

‘No.’

His chubby face crumples and she sees tears well up in his big eyes and she knows that any minute now he’ll start crying and then Tony will wake up and who knows what will happen.

‘All right,’ she says,shut up shut up don’t cry you little shite,‘but be quiet.’ Daniel breaks into a joyous grin, all thought of tears forgotten, and does what he’s told and sits carefully on the bottom step and clumsily pulls his shoes on while she gets his blue thrift shop coat that’s too big for him. She tugs his arms into it and then, one finger across her lips, quietly opens the front door and they creep out into the October cold.

Daniel looks as though he could explode with excitement as he holds his hand up, Peter Rabbit tucked under his other arm. She takes his small warm palm in hers and pulls him quickly down the street. She doesn’t want him with her. What will Katie say? Why couldn’t he have stayed where he was? Why does he always have to be the centre of everything?

He’s humming to himself, and sniffing, his nose running, as she eventually slows down to go at his pace and they pick their way across the wasteland, his clumsy feet stumbling occasionally. What if Ma comes back while they’re out? That makes her smile. Tony asleep and Daniel gone would fuck Ma right up. They’d fight then. Let them worry. Go down to the swings and look for him. She can imagine Ma’s panic and Tony’s defensiveness and she wants to laugh and run and get drunk.

They can shite off. All of them.

And there it is. Her anger. She holds on to Daniel’s hand a little tighter.

62

NOW

MARILYN

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