Papa on a stick...

Sarah and I sat on the wall of the maze, staring at the man under the tree. Floppy black hair and lots of make up, he reminded me of Robert.

'We should.' I suggested 'Go and talk to that particular man.'

And before she could protest I was kneeling beside him and inquiring of his day.

'I am writing.' He had replied. His skin was marked with acne scars but he had a sort of rugged appeal. When I asked what he was writing, he answered 'A song'. Which had stirred my interest. He showed me a flier for his band, 'Papa on a Stick'.

Sarah came and sat beside us. 'Hello new friend of Claire's' She had smiled. 'I'm Sarah.'
'Neil.' He smiled back. He wore tight black jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with a picture of Nick Cave. We talked and smoked and I did my best not to think of the Roundhouse Pub and whether or not my day would end there. Neil told us he was in a band and studying at the University. He rented a small 'crap and smelly' room up near the Royal Crescent. We were, he offered, welcome to come back there and share a bottle of wine. I looked him up and down a final time before nodding 'yes' and pulling Sarah to her feet.
'Come on.' I winked 'It will be fun'.
The walk to the Royal Crescent is all up hill. It is the most famous street in Bath and is a much sought after location. Neil seemed nice, I couldn't place his age, possibly late twenties, maybe older. He was right about the room too. Just enough room for a narrow single bed, a chest of drawers, a fridge and a bad smell. He sat Sarah and I on the bed whilst he rummaged through the communal kitchen next door looking for a bottle opener. In an attempt to keep my mind off the inevitable I studied this room in detail. I flicked through his records, saying the titles over and over in my head, sometimes out loud.
'Are you alright?' Asked Sarah, perhaps alarmed by my behaviour.
The bottle of wine was a cheap Bulgarian Carbernet Sauvignon. I remember that. It was one of the thoughts that I spoke out loud and I liked the way the words sounded.
'Who's that?' I asked Neil when he returned with the corkscrew.
'That?' He said with a smile and a look of adoration, 'is Beatrice Dalle in the film Betty Blue.'
'Betty Blue.' My eyes lit with adoration too 'I want to be just like her.'
Neil sat beside me and poured the wine. 'No you don't' he said 'She was sad. She was sort of lost.' I moved round on the bed, kneeling now. Looking. Staring up at the poster of this woman with big breasts and plump lips.
'Yes I do.' I both thought and said. 'I want to be just like her.'
'Would you like to watch the film?' He asked.
____________________________________________________________________

Thursday was a blue day.
A Betty Blue Day...

September 2000

The flat was filthy. Caroline had agoraphobia and was a hoarder of things from her past. Things that had long rotted and stagnated into crap. She had once been an up and coming designer and the eighties had seen her vibrant and affluent. A popular socialite that was invited to all the right parties.

Not now. The gray haired lady was content to rot alongside her possessions. It was just her, her cat and her medications. And boy, were there a lot of medications. She sat on the sofa and smoked cigarettes, often watching the world of Tufnell Park pass by beneath her.

She liked her sofa. It was one of her better possessions.

She was sat on it when she got my phone call.

'Caroline?' My relief at the sound of her voice was consuming. "They've taken Jake off me. I don't know what to do. You have to help me.' I was sat on a toilet in the Social Services Office in the Essex road. At my feet lay my handbag with the straps torn off.

I had just tried to hang myself.

'You tried to hang yourself!' She roared with laughter 'With the straps from your handbag?' And it all suddenly seemed ridiculous, so I laughed too. Someone was banging on the door loudly...

'Claire, are you OK? You need to come out the toilet.'
'I have to go. Can I come to yours? They say I can't go home.'

The person knocked again.

'No I can't go back to Mick's. He's the reason that they fucking took Jake off me. They did a fucking nonce check on the cunt and he came up dirty.'

More knocking and raised voices.

'No. Jake's fine. He never laid a finger on him.'

Then the door flew open with a huge crash.

The Social Worker was called Tyra and I had known her since getting pregnant with Jake. She poured concern on me whilst making me sign papers that were unimaginably painful to read. She offered me a lift to Caroline's house, which I accepted, and she gave me hope that Jake would soon be back in my arms. As I approached the car I had to walk around to the roadside of the vehicle. I stared at the on coming traffic, so tempted to fall towards it. But not today. Not yet.
'What's Caroline's address?' Asked Tyra.
'It's in Tufnell Park, on Junction Road. Do you know it?'
'Yes.' Tyra had answered 'The housing co operative?'
'Have you been there before?' I asked.
'I live there.' She had smiled.

Caroline sat me on the sofa and lit us each a cigarette.

'What the fuck am I going to do with you?' She had said, stroking my hair. But I had no answer to that. I had never been here before. Caroline and I had met in therapy. Drama therapy, a New Age treatment for drug addicts, spoon fed us when nothing else was deemed able to work. The counselors had pushed us together and we had formed a friendship of sorts. I was about to test that friendship to the limits. Caroline did not usually let anyone else in her home. I knew that Rhonda was allowed there, Caroline's ex-girlfriend, but these walls meant more to Caroline than a roof over her head. They were her sanctuary.

We drank and talked a lot that night. I met Rhonda, a Vidal Sassoon hair dresser with short cropped bleached blond hair and I liked her too.
'Why Caroline!' Rhonda had shrieked 'You fucking sneak. You never told me she was so pretty.'

Pretty? I could not see it anymore.

When darkness fell, Caroline and Rhonda lifted me up and put me on the sofa, now converted to a bed. They undressed me and tucked me in. Even in my state of near unconsciousness I heard them talking in the hallway.

'How long will she stay?' Asked Rhonda.
'Where would she go?' Caroline had answered.

The morning found me blighted by the day before. My eyes had cried so much that it was an effort to prise them apart and see the world. I looked around for a cigarette and spying an unopened can of beer I said good morning to my new addiction. Alcohol.

I had about two pounds left in the world. Actually I had less than that. I had nothing tangible left at all. My children were gone. First Alice, now Jake. I wondered quite what was left to live for.

Would it be today?

I dare not think further than the bottom of that can. It helped me, it stopped my shakes and gave me something to hold. My arms had never felt so empty.

I was one fucking year clean form Heroin. How the fuck had it come to this?

I wandered to the bathroom. Past the filthy stacks of books and clothes. The light flickered on with an electric buzz and I shrank from my own reflection.

'Girl, you need to do something about that face.' I said aloud to myself, looking down at the filthy sink and wondering where to start. I took the cat bowl from the sink and placed it next to the cat bed in the bath. I felt a little sorry for Tithelo. If I were a cat I wouldn't fucking sleep in there. I'd have standards. I turned the tap and waited for the water to run from rust brown to yellow. Soaking a dirty cloth with the freezing cold water I sat on the toilet and held it hard to my face. The smell of damp fabric made me heave a little and a mixture of bile and beer entered my throat. I wet the cloth and pressed again. At all cost I had to make myself look decent. Returning to the lounge I opened the briefcase that lay next to the bed. I moved aside the video tapes and took out a small bag of make up. Underneath the make up bag was the transcript of a conversation from an internet chat room. I smiled at that memory. I locked the case and reset the combination. Inside the green bag I found a gold snake skin corset and a pair of tight black jeans. I grabbed the cleanest underwear that I could find then returned to the bathroom. My bare skin was covered in bruises and it goose bumped at the feeling of air upon it.

Memories.

How much make up?

Lots I figured. I couldn't believe that I was about to do this, but I knew that he was out there somewhere. And if he was never going to come to me than I would fucking find him. We had run out of time. Me and him.

'Morning. Called out Caroline from her bed. 'Milk and two sugars please.'

Her room was next to the bathroom and I popped my face around the door.

'Hair up? Or down?' I asked. Showing her both and waiting for her suggestion.
'Where are you going?' She asked, lighting a cigarette.

'Kings Cross.' I called out as I headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

She joined me there and began laying out a line of different pills and liquids.

'What are you going to the cross for?'

'What do you think?' I replied. Gesticulating at my outfit.

'Oh' she had muttered.

I returned to the lounge and tidied up the sofa bed. When the bed was out, the only way across the room was to climb over it. The room was full of broken computers and boxes of the yesteryear. I had never seen so much dust. Clouds of it puffed out as I touched and moved things. Clouds of Caroline I guess.

'Don't go.' Caroline asked. 'You're not a whore. You can't do this.'
'Sweetheart, I've been a whore my entire fucking life. Just most of the time the bastards forgot to pay me.' And I wiped a tear from the side of my eye and watched her do the same.

'Stay. We'll watch a film.' she enthused 'And Rhonda will be round later with beer.'

I thought of Jake and shook my head.

'We'll watch Betty Blue. You said you loved that film.'

'Just for a bit then.' I said 'Until my cigarettes run out.' And I had fallen to the sofa with her and dreamed of Beatrice.

As the film neared its end I became filled with terror. I was safe here in this 'Betty Blue World' with my crazy lesbian friend. What might come after this film was unimaginable. As the title credits went up Caroline asked me 'Is this it then?'
And I nodded as she added, 'I knew you would go. At least we got to watch the film.' She said it like this would be the last time that she ever saw me.

I paid my bus fare and traveled South towards the centre of London. I had no idea what I was doing and a million questions filled my head. How much would I charge? What will they be like?

Kings Cross is a bustling epicenter for the crap and forgotten souls shat out of London's ass. If you have never been there, know that it is worse than you can imagine. There is an unbelievable amount of pain on display in this place. I stood next to the main entrance to the station, looking left and right. I couldn't see any police so I looked for something new. A gentleman in a trench coat near the phones made eye contact with me. I smiled and walked towards him. My mind was going fucking overdrive. I wanted to die.

I wanted to fucking kill him.

'Looking for business Sir?' I asked.

'Fifteen.' He answered. Smoothing back a stray hair that fell forward with a nervous hand.

'Fuck off. Thirty?' I looked him in the eyes. 'I ain't fucked up like the rest of the shit round here.'

But he laughed and walked off.

I headed up towards the Hampstead Road Junction, soon being approached by a black man in his late forties.

"You working?' He asked.

I took one look at him and said 'Thirty. Straight sex, nothing else.' He tried to haggle but I left him there and continued on my way. The traffic moved down the road like blood through the veins of London. I edged a little closer to the curb and balanced on the edge of it. Jumping on to the road I walked away from the oncoming traffic with my eyes closed. All the time I willed myself to jump sideways and end this day, end this life. A bus veered dangerously close. With my eyes still shut I felt the wind of its passing on my cheek and the anger of its horn in my ears. I looked over and gave the bus driver the finger. A traffic Island caught my eye in the centre of the road and I walked slowly through the traffic towards it. More cars beeped at me. I ignored them. On reaching the traffic island I sat down and leaned against the railings. I lit a cigarette and took a deep drink of its smoke, screaming as I exhaled with all my fury.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' Sobbing now I was angry at myself. I couldn't even get fucked for money! I punched the ground and contemplated the traffic again.

To my left was the old station building. I stood up and soon found myself in the middle of its madness. I had a phone in my hand.

The phone had Caroline's voice at the other end.

'Just come back here.' She had shouted. 'Shall I come and get you?'

A big offer indeed from the woman who was scared of the world and lived in dust.

'No don't.' I had conceded. 'I will take a bus and come to you.' I had one pound left. Enough for one more bus fare.

I tried to shake the madness from my head and moved towards the ranks of people waiting for buses. I stood there. I was shocked to see that it was almost ten o'clock, that I had lost all sense of time and day. How long had I been here? What had I done?

I simply stood there. In the queue .

I waited Caroline. I was coming home to you. I promised you that and I didn't lie.

The queues for the buses were so full that they mingled together and the hundred or so people waiting in the busy street pushed against each other, vying for position. I got pushed further and further down the queue. Out to the end. Away from the people. From my salvation.

The car pulled up and the window was lowered. He smiled and gestured for me to come over. I did.

Leaning into the car I had a sense of completion. I asked him one thing.

'Is it you?'

And he nodded whilst swinging the car door open. 'Get in.'

I looked back one last time towards the bus queue but knew my fate was elsewhere. I climbed into the car and smiled. 'Where are we going?'

'You know.' He had answered.

The car smelt of magic trees. The man smelt of nothing. He had an Eastern European accent and a smile with missing teeth. 'We go pub? Yes? The Holloway, yes?' he asked. And I had nodded and looked at him to check I was not wrong.

As the car cruised around the back streets of North London I became more and more certain that this was him. I studied his hands. Imagined them squashing the life out of me, imagined this smell - the one of cheap car air freshener - to be the last thing that would fill my lungs. This car was not going to the Holloway, I was sure of that.

I looked out of the windows and watched this city pass me by. London. My city. My enemy for the longest time. Sometimes I would look at him and once I even spoke the truth, 'I honestly don't care what you do to me.'

'Thank you.' he had said with a gappy grin.

When the car stopped in a dark square and he lay my seat back I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and crossed my hands over my chest. I held on to my top white knuckled as he tried to lift it. He gave up after a bit and removed my trousers and underwear instead.

I held on tight to that top like it would make this all less painful.

I remember crying and fighting him. I could see the little 'Magic Tree' air freshener swaying with the movement of the car and my feet striking out at the dashboard.

Still I held on to my top.

My left hand clawed at the door and window and I thrashed from side to side for which he complained.

'You make it hard'

Still I held on to my top as his hands moved up to my neck with anger.

The new face at the window of the car was shocked and fearful as it banged and mouthed hatred.

Everything moved faster now.

The door was open and I was thrown to the ground hard in the black of the night, barely able to see with shock and initially gasping for air. The thud on my back must have been my bag and clothes. I looked back at him one last time as he sat there looking at the taxi driver, illuminated by the door light. I saw him raise his arms and scream as a fist came towards him and with that I ran, half naked and fast as I could away from that car.

Breathing.

The sound of me breathing. That's all I could hear. Eyes flicked left and right with a depth of paranoia, clothes clutched in my hand against my body, I was too confused to even dress. The sound of a car approaching made me run again. What if it was him? I ran faster now, towards the lights and the main street, then I turned left and I kept running. I didn't stop until the music of a pub drew me to a door and I went flying inside. A few faces turned to me but none for long. It takes a lot to shock this town. Some even laughed as I stumbled half naked and fearful towards the toilet at the back but no one thought the event exceptional.

I dressed and waited.

But no one came.

The change of sounds outside this place alerted me to the fact that the pub was closing. I stumbled from its rooms and out into the coldness and I realised that this was the Holloway Arms.

'The Holloway, yes?'

'You OK love?' Asked a plump lady, slightly drunk and arm and arm with a friend.

'Is it far to Tufnell Park?' I asked.

'Twenty minute walk' She had answered.

'Then I guess I'll be fine.' I said.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Neil and Sarah chatted happily as Betty Blue played out its art house vision of pain on the TV screen. They were a world apart from me and her, I knew that. I could see it already and I dreamed a future, watched entranced with only one thought repeated in my head.

'I still want to be like her.'

I never ever wanted that film to end.


Continued...