Glassy eyed smiles for the wind...

For those that are new. The begining...

Barefoot but less honest.

That's how Bath found me this time round.

I stepped from the train onto the platform and took the deepest of breaths. I walked down to the Sport's Centre Car Park and sat where the box used to be.

Was this my home?

I thought that I should build it again. Even if I chose to never sleep here, I couldn't bear the thought of it not existing. I had money now. A bank account that stored the funds of sin, but I didn't want to spend it. That Claire, the one that had earned it was gone for now. It was about nine o'clock and the Autumn air was cooling fast.

I built my box again.

As I placed the last board on top an angry voice called out, 'This place is for people parking fucking cars, not for dossers like you.'

I turned to face the manager. 'This,' I said and I pointed at the box, 'Is my fucking car.'


I walked along the canal, down past the Boater and the Cactus Club and headed for the Bender Site. I needed drugs and reckoned on a visit to my Gypsy Queen. The site was quiet when I arrived. Polly and a man I did not know were sat about the fire. I kissed Polly on both cheeks and she smiled up at me, eyes stoned and lazy.

'Gypsy in?' I asked her.

She sighed and smiled again. 'Of course she is.' Then as an afterthought, 'Oh, I almost forgot. Someone was here looking for you.'

'My Dad?'

'No. Not your Dad.' I felt silly for suggesting it. 'A boy. Called Shane. He's staying in a squat in town but came down here to find you.' She tapped the chillum on a fire stone to clean it out. 'Pack me another one Womble.' She said to the man, 'And put some lavender in it to scent my lungs.'

I climbed the fence and pulled my coat tighter to my body. I could hear her voice amidst the chatter of others.

'Gypsy!' I called out, 'It's me, Claire. Can I come in?' Gypsy's face appeared from between the slit in the tarps.

'Well fuck me!' She cried, 'Fifika's back!'

She reached out an arm and welcomed me inside. The fire was roaring in the burner. Nick was there, so was Andy, sat at the back near the bike, looking through a box of tapes.

'Give her the fucking dog.' Said Gypsy, sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping a fur around her shoulders. 'We've got a dog for you.' She smiled.

'Where is it?' I couldn't see a dog. Wasn't sure I wanted one either.

'Nick, show her the dog.'

Nick lifted a small flop of black from his lap and held it high in the air. I wouldn't have known what it was if I hadn't already been informed, not until the dog turned to face me and I saw the white of an eye and the pink of a tongue.

'Some girl dropped it round for you last week.' Said Nick. 'I told her you'd fucked off to London but she said it was your dog now and she left it here with us.' He held the dog out to me. 'He's called Yang Dog.'

'Yang dog.' I repeated. I grabbed the tiny ball of fluff and held it to my face. 'Hello Yang.' And for that I earned a lick. 'How old is he and what does he eat?' I asked. I had never owned a dog before.

I tied a piece of rope around his neck and wandered back to town with a new address in my pocket and a life to live.

I pressed the bell for Flat No.6 and waited. Moments later a window flew up and a head popped out. Collin smiled down at me,

'Shane, it's for you!'

Shane greeted me with the biggest hug. I hugged him back. He led me up the stairs to this new abode. The first room was huge. High ceilings decorated with molded cornices and a beautiful Georgian fireplace. There was little furniture, just mattresses and blankets, but it had a cozy feel and it had, remember this, a beautiful fireplace.

I was surprised to see Little Claire still around. Her and Collin shared a room at the back of the squat and she told me that she played her flute to make money near the Abbey steps. Shane and Matty shared the main room along with Sara, one of the Hippie Goths that I knew from the Boater.

So here we were a week later. Six people, three men, three women, one dog and a fireplace, all sharing this space we called home, when there's a knock on the door about midnight and it's the Spaceman.

'I come' said the Spaceman 'Bearing drugs for all.'

'You sound like a fucking musketeer.' Said Shane and he gestured for the Spaceman to join us on the mattress. 'This may be a stupid question Spaceman, but what drugs do you have exactly?'

'Acid.' He replied.

Shane put an arm round the Spaceman's shoulders. 'How about,' he smiled 'I swap you a couple of grams of speed for twelve tabs.'

'Is it Gypsy's speed?' Asked the Spaceman.

'This, my friend,' said Shane with a wink 'Is the best damn speed that money can buy.'

Shane pulled the Sherbert Fountain from his pocket and tapped a good pile into the Spaceman's hand.

'That's not fucking speed. It's Sherbert.' He said, proving himself more lucid than we had thought.

'Damn right Spaceman.' Said Shane. 'But look at it this way. Where the fuck else are you gunna get a couple of grams of good quality sherbert at this time of night?'

The Spaceman considered this point before saying 'Well I'll keep the Sherbert and you can have the tabs for a pound each.'

To this we agreed.

I remember nothing until the weir. After the weir I remember it all.

The Weir

We are laughing and playing on the grass of the maze. Chasing each other around the stone path, leaving trails of colour from our fucked up minds.

I danced. I think.

There are two new faces with us and they have scrumpy and tobacco to share. In return we give them the spare tabs of acid. After, we all sit with out feet dipped in the ice black water of the river. I laugh lots with my friends, with this new couple and with the drugs.

'Let's climb over to the weir!' Suggested the new man. His name was Mark.

I could feel the rush of the water as it poured over the steps of the fall and plummeted down. I could taste the cold of the water as it lapped against my legs. But still I looked over at the suggested climb and smiled.

Glassy eyed smiles for the wind.

I was the second person to find her way to the beam. I would not have noticed that at the time but with the benefit of hindsight; for there to be only the two of us left at the end of this - then there must have only been two of us there at the start. I recall being encouraged to take the hand held out to me and the roar of the water getting deafening loud. The sound of it rushed my twisted mind, you could taste its spray. I took the hand and found myself with feet on metal and back to something.

Eyes closed I held that hand and trusted it to take me safe.

Even with my eyes sealed shut the colours did not stop. The street lamp burned a red and gaping hole and filled my mind with thoughts of blood. The sound of water became a rushing in my veins. I was petrified now and I wasn't sure how long it had been since the hand had stopped pulling me on and had gripped me tight instead. I opened one eye and looked down.

Fucked up.

That was stupid.

I looked at him but I saw only fear. I think I said his name but all he did was stare.

I closed my eyes again and squeezed him back.

'I d-d-don't like this.' Mark stuttered 'I've not done acid before and I don't like this.'

I whispered back, 'I don't like this either. Take me home.'

And then there were the faces on the bank. I wanted to go back to the bank, I really did, but the faces on the bank were not smiling anymore.

They were judging.

The trip, gone bad, was changing things.

'They are talking about us.' I panicked. 'They see us holding hands and they think I'm fucking you. I'm cold.' I screamed 'I need fire!'

'Don't let go of my hand.' Pleaded Mark, 'I just want to get off of here.' I heard the sound of breaking glass and imagined the worst.

'They're going to kill us.' I tried to step towards him, to the other side of this beam, but his body blocked my route.

It seemed really fucking cold now. I fought for lucidity, desperate to organise my actions and enable my body to complete the task at hand, but failed.

They were definitely waiting to kill us. They thought me a slut. They did not trust me. They did not really like me. I had nothing left but a hand to hold.

I waited. Waited for the voices to stop and the noise to disappear.

I looked.

'I think they've gone.' I whispered to the hand I held. I moved slowly, bare feet sore from their time on cold metal, I risked it all and edged towards the bank.

The acid roared.

I fell haplessly from the beam. Relieved to be on land and not above the water. I reached up and grabbed for Mark. Safely down, the horrors did not ease. The silence of the maze and path reminders that our friends had gone. That Shane had gone. I took Mark's hand again, his eyes were full to bursting with the thoughts that he was letting in; I ran, dragged him up the steps of stone towards the street.

'Make it stop.' He begged.

But I couldn't. I couldn't even make it less.

We ran until we hit the door and I pressed the bell and hoped for kindness. I longed to curl up by the warmth of the fire and sleep these demons gone.

Why is he holding a fucking axe?

Nick answers the door with a grin and a weapon. Mark pulls to run again but I hold him there, wide eyed.

The demon that answers the door is smiling. He smiles at us all the way up the stairs, him and the axe.

Back in the room there is chaos, but that is just my mind. The room is white and full of mist. Shane is sat on the floor getting his hair cut by Matty. The fire, roaring in its grate is moving - moving out of the grate and to the tiled hearth in front. The Gypsy Queen has a shovel and I think her responsible for this but her arms move too fast for me to be sure. Yang dog barks confused by the demons, Sara sings, Little Claire shouts, the new girl sobs, Mark screams, the fire jumps and leaves the grate and still the acid roars.

Shhh. I cover my ears and try to make it happen. There is no sense in this room at all.

Shane takes my hand and walks me to the back of the squat, to Collin's room.

'Your trips gone bad.' He held my face and looked into my eyes but he looked different without his hair. In his army combat fatigues he looked more like a soldier. 'You need to calm down. You need to get happy, look, here's Yang Dog. Say hello to Yang Dog. He's missed you.'

I shook my head and looked at Yang. He smelled yucky but familiar and he rooted me a little back in this place.

'Are you mad at me?' I asked. Crying now. 'I didn't fuck him. I was just scared of the bridge and scared of you.'

Shane smiled and hugged me. 'I'm not mad at you babe. I shouldn't have left you. I'm mad with myself.'

I lay with him on the floor near the window of this room and we ignored the screaming and the banging from the one next door. We held hands and giggled at the madness of the night and I stroked the stubble of his hair. He had kind eyes. How could I think them evil?

Take Two - the good trip

We are laughing and playing on the grass of the maze. Chasing each other around the stone path, leaving trails of colour from our fucked up minds. There are two new faces with us and they have scrumpy and tobacco to share. In return we give them the spare tabs of acid. My girl dances for us. She holds her hands up to the sky and she dances with the devil in her.

I like that.

I want to swim in the water of the weir but we chicken out as our toes plunge into its cold. I sit, holding her hand and feel the power of the river. I wish that she was dancing still. She dances well.

'Let's climb over to the weir!' Shouts Mark. And I laugh and lay back on the cold of the stone. Feet still in the water. I feel her hand slip from mine and watch her dance again. She dances all the way to the base of the steps and then she disappears for a moment from the orange into black. I cannot help but smile at the perfectness of this. We are all of us happy with sin.

The girls run back to the maze, giggling. I follow them and we write our names in the air with the tips of our cigarettes. Fascinated, I watch the glowing lines trail with red and spark the night. Matty places the empty scrumpy bottles on the wall of the maze and he and Kat throw stones to make them smash.

'Watch out.' I shout, 'Claire might cut her feet and then she will not dance for us.'

Because I want to dance and sing and lie with her.

Walking to the base of the platform I see her there, still strong, still mine; and I beg her back to dance for me and show me the devil again.

Claire looks at me. She smiles the smile. 'I'm cold,' She cries to me 'I need fire.'

'Fire' I roar. 'I'll make you fire!'

Then I run and tell the others, 'Let's go back and make fire. Have you ever seen one before?'

_________________________________________________

The fire is burning now and I wait for her to come and dance for me. Collin is cutting Matty's hair with the clippers and I watch with fascination as the green tufts fall.

'Are you sure they're OK on their own?' Asked Collin, before he shouted out the window to Gypsy 'Come on up.'

Matty waves the clippers at me and I sort of figured 'Why not?' New girl, new start.

Tools thrown down with attitude and metal clanks on metal and some on tile.

Sparks fly and I watch the fire move. I see the room fill with smoke and choke on its suffocating white.

Matty is shaving my head and the buzzing makes me happy.

'Where's my girl?' I ask. But no one seems to know.


Take Three - The Fire

'The fucking fire's lit!' Said Nick. 'What we gunna do? We can't steal a burning fireplace, can we.'

'We'll put the fucker out.' Said Gypsy. She rang the bell with scar tipped finger. 'They must be off their faces by now anyhow. Spaceman said they bought two tabs each.'

The window opened and a skinny voice called out 'Come on up.'

Gypsy threw the bag of tools in front the fire. 'I'll put the fire out,' she said to Nick, 'You start hacking around the mantle.'

As the axe swung high the girls began to scream.


The Future...


Shane was blond. I never usually went for blonds. He offered me a little too much for a week long love affair I thought.

I was up before the rest and I headed for the kitchen. The only food was a large bag of long-gone-soft carrots and a bottle of oil. I sliced the carrots thinly and fried them up for breakfast.

The huge gaping hole where the fireplace had been was proof that I was done here. There was just one place left to go. I kissed Shane on his sleeping cheek and tucked Yang Dog under my arm. Walked slowly to the Car Park.

'My box!' I said to it. 'Yang Dog, meet the box. Box, meet Yang.' I recalled the days when this place built me whole again. I touched the wood of its roof, bent down and flicked the switch; felt the heat of its vent once more.

'Goodbye Mr Box.' I said. And somehow I knew that this was Goodbye for ever.

As we left the car park the voice came back.

'I've got something for you.' The angry voice. The Manager's voice.

He held a folded piece of paper. I held my dog.

I placed my puppy on the ground and stared at him.

'What's that?' I asked. 'Your number?'

He flicked the paper at me with disgust. I watched as it fluttered aimlessly to the ground and he walked off.

'Well what can that be?' I asked Yang Dog, for want of someone better to ask. And I picked the paper up and carefully unfolded it.

'That' I said to Yang, 'Is fucking hilarious!' I screwed it to a ball and threw it after him.

A bill for eight hundred pounds.

One years parking fees for the parking of my 'box' without a ticket.

'Well it was a car after all.' I said to Yang Dog. He skipped at my feet and I patted him on the head. 'Come on boy, we've got a fucking train to catch.'

And Cheapdate is born.

It's over...

57,003 words, the length of a novel spanning just two years, but it is definitely over. There is nothing left to write of her.
Before we continue, before we leave this blog and join the next, I ask that you open your mind and push the comfort zone...
You may made need to stretch it until it bleeds

She is Cheapdate. Hear her roar.
Continued...

Dance little girl dance...

Why the fuck is little Claire sobbing in the corner?

Shane has his arm around me.

Like he owns me.

Like there's any left of me to own.

Fiend still in the pool, Claudia stood in the doorway. Little Claire sat in the corner and me being groped by this lad who thinks me nice.

'I'm off to get the bus now if you fancy coming with me.' Said Claudia the pink of last night's spikes misshapen and bent by sleep.

Shane rubbed my arm affectionately, 'Why don't you stay a couple of days?'

'Nah, I think I better get her home.' I looked over at the sobbing mess. 'Come on Claire Bear. Let's go get that bus.'

I had no intention of getting on a bus at all. Padding back down the carpet I stopped by the open door at the end and caught sight of the girl on skates without them. She smiled as we passed. Needle in hand, tourniquet pulled tight in teeth, but still she managed a smile.

We closed the door of blue on a promise to meet up with Shane again in a few days. Half way down the stairs we met the boy with the Batman Pajamas. He was pissing against the wall.

'Hey, that's fucking disgusting. Go upstairs and use the toilet next time.' Shouted Claudia.

'Fucking Junkies.' He cried back in retaliation.

I wasn't sure if the policemen slept during the day too, so again I left the estate quietly.

Claudia told us to flash our tickets quickly and to walk on with attitude. It worked. The driver either didn't notice yesterday's date or he didn't care to argue. We sat on the top of the bus and begged a cigarette to share from another passenger.

'Did Fiend really eat the puppies?' I asked Claudia.
'Fuck knows.' She said. 'But I guess if he's dumb enough to smoke antibiotics when he needs a fix - then he's dumb enough to fry a puppy when he's hungry.'

She had a point.

Claudia took us all the way to Victoria Station. 'You can usually find me down Piccadilly Circus at Eros Statue. If I'm not there, someone there will know how to find me.' I gave her a big hug. Looks like both she and I knew that I would soon be back.

When Claudia left I turned my hugs to Little Claire. 'Here's your ticket. Get on the bus. Go home. If I were you, I'd go all the way home. Don't even stop at Bath.' Then I hugged her again. 'I'm staying here for now.'

'I'm sorry.' She said 'I was just scared that's all.'

'That's OK girl. It's good you were scared.' And with that I waved goodbye.



I begged for about four hours, then bought some makeup, shampoo and soap. One good feed and a can of lager later and I decided to try Claudia's idea for nicking shoes. All of the shops round here only put out one shoe from each pair to prevent theft, but Claudia had noticed that the Clarks shop on Regent Street put out only the left shoes, whilst the Clarks shop on Shaftesbury Avenue put out only the right.

The girl was a genius.

I am now three inches taller and the proud owner of some patent black stiletto shoes.

I take the tube back to Victoria Station to get cleaned up. I had spotted the sign for showers there when we passed through yesterday. Two pound fifty bought me the right to wash and a three pound deposit bought me the the lend of a towel. Hot water and waxy soap. Some days there is no feeling like it.

I nicked the towel, figuring it a pretty good deal for three quid, then left the toilets and headed for the bar next door. It was a tiny open fronted room that faced out onto the Station Concourse. Its customers mostly transient, but peppered with the occasional regular that took the same train every day and scheduled this place as a pit stop. I chatted for a while with the bar man, filling time until the doors of Soho would begin to open. Then off I went, heels tapping, mind in overdrive.

___________________________________________________

'It's my birthday.' I said to the bouncer in the overcoat. He smiled and passed me a cigarette.

'Its not your fucking birthday.' He said.

'Who's Raymond?' I asked, leaning in for the light he offered.

'He's the King.' A group of men approached the door and my bouncer stood back to let them in. 'Have a good night lads.' He called out after them. Then he said it again, 'He's the fucking King of Soho.'

I bit my lip and hoped for bravery.

'I'm clean!' I said, waving a hand down my body to parade this achievement. "And it's my birthday. I'm eighteen today. I was looking for some work.'

'It ain't...' He winked at me, 'Yer fucking birthday. And you ain't eighteen yet.'

'I've got shoes.' So I showed him those.

'Very nice shoes.' He smiled.

The next group of men nodded to him and called out to me as they entered 'Nice ass darling. Coming in to give us a dance?' I looked hopeful and smiled at the coat.

'I dunno. Am I working tonight Steve?' I asked him.

'Not on my shift love.' And he ruffled my hair. Which burned. I felt like crying.

'I need the money.'

I needed something.

'Try Rupert Street love. That's the only place you'll get work round here.'

I walked off dejected.

'And have a happy birthday.' He called out after me.

Rupert Street?

The man that stood at the entrance booth, flicked through a pile of sex cards before looking up at me. 'Well lookie what I got me!' he grinned. 'Fresh fanny.'

I was shown down the steps to the main room. There was a small stage with two poles at the back, mirrored tiling, a small bar area to the right and some booth seating to the left. An angry looking girl in a tasseled bikini top and hot pants leaned against the bar and stared at us. She was the only other person here.

'Who the fuck is this?' She sniped in an Italian accent.

'It's the new girl.' Said the man from the booth.

'Fucking place is empty. We don't need a new girl.' She went behind the bar and poured herself a drink. 'We don't need her,' and she looked me up and down 'We don't need her at all.'

'Maybe,' said the man 'If we had a new girl, the place wouldn't be so fucking empty. You fucking junkies put off the punters. I ain't got a single girl left that can show some flesh without bleeding all over my floor.'

The Italian looked me up and down a second time. 'How old are you?'

'I'm Eighteen.'

'You worked in a place like this before?' She asked me.

'No.' I answered honestly 'But I learn fast.'

She came back round to our side of the bar and motioned for us to join her at a booth table. I sat down on the sticky red velvet between them. Then wondered why they played such terrible music. It sounded like elevator music.

'You even told her what a Clip Joint does?' Asked the Italian, who introduced herself as Mia.

The man from the booth lit a cigar and handed it to her. 'No Babe.' He smiled at me 'I thought that I would leave that job to you.'

So here was the deal. There were two door girls that worked the entrances. Short skirts and smiles worn to get the blokes in. Martin, the guy I'd met was the muscle and he worked his door and the floor along with a second bloke called Michael. Downstairs the room was worked by between three and eight girls, depending how many turned up on the night. Once the punters paid their entrance fee (which was shared between the door girls and the men) and got their voucher offering fifty percent off the price of the first drink, they came downstairs to the bar/dance area. They would then be asked to pick a girl and she would sit with them at a booth. A half price drink would be suggested and one of the other girls would come over to take the order, that made at least two girls in the booth. She would then shout the order back to the bar and join us. The girl behind the bar would then bring the drinks over, making three girls in the area and we would stay and flirt whilst the punter drank his drink.

From there the evening could go one of several ways.

One week later...

There were several people screaming in the bar. The crap elevator music still played but it was definitely drowned amidst the screaming.

'I'm not fucking paying five hundred quid for two fucking drinks!' Protested the middle aged man in the business suit.

Martin held one arm and Michael the other. The suit's hair was in disarray and his glasses were knocked askew.

'You ran up the bill, you fucking pay.' Screamed Martin as the man struggled to get free.

'This is assault. You can't do this. I only had two drinks.'

'Two fucking drinks, three girls and a lot of looking you bastard. Get his fucking Filofax Mikey.' Mikey gabbed the black leather bound book. 'Look up his fucking wife. Or better still, his fucking Mother. You still got a fucking Mother big guy?'

And they threw him to the floor.

'I'm not paying.' He tried a final protest.

'You're on film you cunt.' Screamed Michael, giving him a good kick in the side. 'Now either pay, come with us to the fucking cashpoint or get the living shit kicked out of you.' And he kicked him again.

The man found the money after all.


The Japanese guys were always best. They bowed and paid and quietly left. I learned the trade quickly. Looked out for wedding rings, lone tourists, picked the fools and left the wise.

I slept at Mia's for the next month. Lay amidst the film star posters and the discarded piles of perfume soaked clothes that filled her room. We shared a bed but nothing more.

One day, I found myself.

I found myself stood in this seedy little shit hole of a club and I watched once more as a strange little man struggled for his rights and the skinny girls screamed. And I just decided that I had had enough of all this crap, so I took off my heels and I threw them in the corner of the booth. I padded barefoot, unnoticed, up the stairs and to the street. I thought of Claudia.

Of being barefoot again and all the world might offer.

'See ya Steve.' I called out to my man in the suit and coat from the Raymond Revue. 'I'm fucking off out of here.'

'Take care of yourself Babe.' He called out. 'You had that birthday yet?'

Continued...

Fridge

Shane might be shag tired but I am not. I sit up and light the candle.

COCK

Still in the paddling pool, still pointing south, still part of Fiend. I crawl on hands and knees over to the blue plastic of his bed and lean in curious. I place my face as close to his glory as I consider appropriate and I stare.

INT. SQUAT BEDROOM
CAMERA ON SIDE OF PADDLING POOL. AT THE FRONT OF THE SHOT WE SEE A CLOSE UP OF FIEND'S WILLY, IT TAKES UP THE LOWER THIRD OF THE SCREEN. IN THE BACKGROUND IS CLAIRE'S FACE. THE BODY AT THE FRONT ROLLS OVER IN ITS SLEEP AND THE WILLY MOVES OUT OF SHOT. FOCUS IN ON CLAIRE'S FACE. SHE RAISES AN EYEBROW AND 'COCKS' A SMILE. WE HEAR CLAUDIA'S VOICE FROM OUT OF SHOT BUT THE CAMERA STAYS WITH CLAIRE'S FACE

[CLAUDIA]
Does it smell as bad as it looks?

[CLAIRE]
I think he's gone peepee

THE CAMERA ROLLS FORWARDS PUTTING FIEND'S WILLY BACK IN SHOT AS CLAIRE SIMULTANEOUSLY MOVES HER FACE DOWN TO KEEP IT IN SHOT. THE IMAGE FLICKERS SLIGHTLY - CLAIRE'S HEAD IS ELONGATED SIDEWAYS AND HER EYES ENLARGE LIKE A JAPENESE ANIME CHARACTER. THE IMAGE FLICKS BACK TO THE NORMAL COCK/CLAIRE POINT OF VIEW.

[CLAUDIA]
Peepee? Nice.

[CLAIRE]
Does he live here?

[CLAUDIA]
No. The junkies live here.

POV - CAMERA SWINGS TO SHOW A CLOSE UP SHOT OF CLAUDIA'S BARE FEET ANGLED DOWN HER BODY. THE LENS IS SLIGHTLY FISH EYE MAKING HER HEAD APPEAR SMALL AND DISTANT

[CLAUDIA]
I'm fucking starving. No point checking out the fridge. You're lucky if there's a bottle of fucking sauce in there.

THE IMAGE FLICKERS AGAIN AND THIS TIME A LARGE BOTTLE OF TOMATO SAUCE FLASHES UP, SOON FLICKERING AWAY

[CLAUDIA CONT.]
My Mum says that poor people can't afford condiments. She hates going round my Auntie Jane's house to eat because they are so fucked up and poor that they can't even afford mother-fucking tomato sauce.

THE SAUCE FLICKERS BACK ON THE SCREEN MOMENTARILY

[CLAUDIA CONT.]
Then, she always points out how ironic it is that Auntie Dianne, who's even fucking poorer than my Auntie Jane, has a fridge that's completely fucking empty, apart from a bottle of sauce. That, is fucking irony.

CAMERA TURNS AGAIN, BACK TO THE PADDLING POOL. CLOSE UP OF FIENDS LEGS. HE IS SAT UP NOW. WE CAN JUST SEE CLAIRE SAT BEHIND HIM TO THE RIGHT OF THE SHOT.

[FIEND]
Anyone got a cigarette?

HE SHIFTS HIS BODY SO HE CAN PULL HIS TROUSERS UP THEN SNIFFS HIS FINGERS.

[FIEND CONT.]
Who fucking pissed on me

IN THE BACKGROUND WE CAN SEE ONLY THE RIGHT SIDE OF CLAIRE'S HEAD. IT PULSES AGAIN AND ELONGATES. CAMERA SWINGS AGAIN BACK TO CLAUDIA'S FEET.

[CLAUDIA]
I think Fiend went peepee on himself.

[FIEND]
Eh? You got a fag?

[CLAUDIA - IGNORING HIM]
Junkies haven't got condiments. And they definitely haven't got any food. Unless you count lemons. So at least we know that my Auntie Dianne ain't a junkie. Just fucking useless.

[FIEND]
You got a spike then? I've got some pills.

[CLAUDIA]
Ask them.

SHE NODS TOWARDS THE HALLWAY. THEN THE SAUCE FLICKERS INTO SHOT AGAIN.

[CLAUDIA CONT.]
Roller chick will probably lend you one. I'd boil it in fucking bleach though first.

[FIEND]
Got any papers then. We could try smoking these?

CAMERA PANS BACK TO FIEND AND CLAIRE. WE SEE HIM HOLDING UP A SMALL BOTTLE OF PILLS. LARGE AT THE FRONT OF SHOT WE CAN READ THE LABEL. THEY ARE ANTIBIOTICS

[CLAUDIA]
What are they? Throw them here.

THE PILLS ARE TOSSED OUT OF SHOT. FIEND TURNS ROUND AND SEES CLAIRE FOR THE FIRST TIME

[FIEND]
You Clod's sister?

ELONGATED HEAD FLICKER.

[CLAIRE - IGNORING HIM AND LOOKING AT CLAUDIA]
What are they?

THE IMAGE FLICKERS AGAIN AND A BIG BOTTLE OF ANTIBIOTICS IS FLASHED ON THE SCREEN. CLOSE UP OF CLAIRE'S FACE FLICKERING

[CLAIRE - KNOWINGLY]
Oh.

CAMERA POV IS BACK ON SIDE OF PADDLING POOL, CLOSE UP OF FIEND'S CRUTCH WITH CLAIRE'S FACE BEHIND. SHE IS STARING AT HIS WILLY AGAIN. SEQUENCE. STAY WITH THIS SHOT FLASHING UP IMAGE OF ANTIBIOTICS BRIEFLY. CAMERA TO FOCUS ON CLAIRE'S FACE AS FIEND STANDS UP AND MOVES OUT OF SHOT. CLAIRE'S HEAD ELONGATES AND HER EYES GROW LARGE. CAMERA PANS RIGHT TO CLAUDIA'S FEET, IMAGE FLICKERS AND THE SAUCE BOTTLE FLASHES UP.

FADE TO BLACK.

WE HEAR FOOTSTEPS LEAVING THE ROOM. SOUND OF A FRIDGE DOOR OPENING.

[CLAUDIA]
I fucking told you. Fucking junkies don't even have sauce.

CUT TO THE SQUAT ROOM LATER. CLOSE UP OF CANDLE AS IT FINALLY FLICKERS OUT. VERY LITTLE LIGHT IN THE ROOM. CAMERA SWINGS ROUND TO FACE DOOR AND TRACKS TOWARDS IT. SHOT CONTINUES TRACKING DOWN HALLWAY SHOWING MOSTLY THE DIRTY CARPET. AT THE END OF THIS TRACK IT SPINS RIGHT AND STOPS AT THE DOOR TO ROLLER CHICK'S ROOM. SILENCE. SHOT STAYS LIKE THIS FOR ABOUT 20 SECS. IMAGE FLICKERS AND THE IMAGE OF A BARBIE DOLL SAT AT THE SIDE OF A HOTEL POOL FLASHES UP.

INT. ROLLER CHICKS ROOM

THIS ROOM HAS MORE FURNITURE THAN THE REST OF THE SQUAT. A PROPER BED IS IN ONE CORNER NEXT TO A DRESSING TABLE WITH A MIRROR. ON THE DRESSING TABLE IS SOME MAKEUP, A PILE OF MONEY AND A USED SYRINGE. THERE IS A BLACK GUY SAT ON THE EDGE OF THE BED IN WHITE BOXERS. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD LOOKING BUT HAS LOST A LITTLE TOO MUCH WEIGHT. ROLLER CHICK IS WEARING A BRA, KNICKERS AND HER ROLLER SKATES AND IS SAT IN A CHAIR OVER NEAR THE WINDOW. THE WINDOW HAS LARGE PRINT SIXTIES STYLE CURTAINS.

[BLACK GUY]
I'm serious. They are willing to pay a two hundred deposit for the flat and the first weeks rent.

[ROLLER CHICK]
But we'd have to move out. I ain't staying here waiting for some crazy fucking 'Eye Ties' to kick the door in and fuck my shit up.

[BLACK GUY]
Then we'll have to have a contingency plan.

CAMERA POV - CLOSE UP OF ROLLER CHICK'S SKATES

[ROLLER CHICK]
Like what?

[BLACK GUY - OUT OF SHOT]
Like that lot down there.

CAMERA PANS UP. SKATES STAY IN CLOSE UP AT THE FRONT OF THE SCREEN AND WE SEE A SIMILAR FISH EYE SHOT OF ROLLER CHICK AS WE DID OF CLAUDIA EARLIER. THE IMAGE FLICKERS AND THE BARBIE DOLL FLASHES UP ON THE SCREEN.

[ROLLER CHICK]
We could stay with my Auntie Dianne. Just til we get our shit sorted out. It might help us get Becka back.

CAMERA PANS BACK OVER TO THE BED. THE BLACK GUY FALLS BACKWARDS THROWING HIS ARMS OUT LIKE HE IS TIRED AND HAS HAD ENOUGH. THE SHOT SHOWS HIS CROTCH IN CLOSE UP.

SHOT STAYS LIKE THIS FOR ABOUT 20 SECS. HE THEN LEANS HIS HEAD FORWARDS RESTING HIS CHIN ON HIS CHEST AND THE SHOT ROLLS SIDEWAYS 90 DEGREES, MIMICKING THE COCK/CLAIRE SHOT OF PREVIOUS SCENE BUT WITH HIS FACE AND BODY.

IMAGE FLICKERS AND A USED SYRINGE FLASHES UP, ITS SPIKE BENT AT AN ANGLE.

[BLACK GUY]
So I'll tell them that they can move in Saturday?

CLOSE UP OF ROLLER CHICKS SKATES, PANNING BACK UP TO FISH EYE OF HER FACE

[ROLLER CHICK]
That'll teach the prick for what he did to my puppies

THE IMAGE FLICKERS AND UP FLASHES A SHOT OF FIVE CUTE PUPPIES IN A TARTAN DOG BASKET. IMAGE FLICKERS AGAIN TO SHOW A BOTTLE OF SAUCE THEN FLICKERS AGAIN TO SHOW A CLOSE UP OF FIEND HOLDING UP A KNIFE AND FORK.

FADE TO BLACK

SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS. FRIDGE DOOR OPENING.

[BLACK GUY]
Mutha Fucka

SOUND OF FRIDGE DOOR BEING SLAMMED

Continued...

Cock in a paddling pool...

Little Claire was precisely that.

Her hair cut to a childish bob, she looked every bit of her fifteen years. I liked her. Wondered what brought her here to us. We wandered together through the shopping centre and up the ramp towards the bus station. I spotted him standing near the ticket office and went over to say hello.

'Are you always waiting here for me?' I smiled.

John smiled back, for which I was relieved. 'I'm buying a ticket.' He said.

'This is Claire.' I said, pointing to Claire. 'Where are you going?'

'On a coach!' He said, still delicious. 'Hey, fancy coming to a gig in London?'

'Got no money.' I grumbled.

'I'll buy you both tickets.'

An offer too good to refuse?

I looked at Claire and she at me, we smiled. 'OK.' I said.

He bought us tickets and we waved goodbye for now.

__________________________________________________________

Tickets in hand we waited for John to join us. That wait took us right up to departure time.

'What will we do?' Asked Claire.

'Get on the coach.' Seemed the only answer. I searched for him in the crowds as the bus pulled out of the station, prepared at any moment to tell the bus driver to stop and let him on. But he never came.

Onwards rolled the bus towards the City.

Claire nervously kept pressing for an answer as to what we were going to do in London without John. We had no money and no knowledge of how to get to the Arsenal Tavern where the gig was held. I however, did not care. London was nearing and I could smell it. I absent mindedly picked at the little crust of blood from the needle on my arm and I looked at Claire and thought her too weak for all of this.

The streets of Victoria bore an infestation of people. I merged with the rush of bodies, Claire gripping tight to my hand and I adored this feeling of chaos. I pushed faster and faster through the purposeful crowd and as their bodies knocked against me I smiled more and more.

How could one not feel at home here?

We asked directions to the tube station and from there we took a train to Piccadilly Circus. A tourist trap of a place, but something at least for the girls that lacked a starting point. The bright electric billboards of the Circus called me over and from there I had a vantage point of so something more.

I stared. 'What's down there?' I asked the lady with the camera.

'That street leads to Soho.' She had answered.

'Soho.' I repeated. Liking the way it sounds. 'Come on.' I cried to Claire, 'Let's go to Soho.' And barefoot I wandered hand in hand down the path that would colour my life forever.

I was in awe. Pretty girls, trashy girls, skinny girls with skinny arms and legs, glowing Neon lights that flashed and lured and made me smile.

Girls. Girls. Girls.

I asked the suited bouncer with the overcoat if he could spare a cigarette. He could.

'You could use a Bath.' He mumbled 'And a pair of shoes.'

'Can you spare a bath or a pair of shoes Sir?' I inquired. The Bouncer laughed a deep and friendly laugh.

'How old are you?' He asked. Voice Cockney thick.

'I'm seventeen and Claire is...' I paused and considered, 'sixteen.' He laughed again.

'Come back and see me when you've grown up girl. I may have work for a lady like you.'

'Do you know a good place for a drink?' I asked.

'Not in here. Unless you're full of money and into tits.' He winked 'Try the Intrepid Fox. On Wardour Street, just round the corner.' And he gave us the rest of the cigarettes to keep.

Soho was coloured by fantastical people. Everything seemed a little more extreme here. Outfits were daring, image was a statement and sexuality of all kinds and deviancies was paraded with satisfaction and pride. The Intrepid Fox was a Punk/slash/Goth pub. The angry anarchists and depressed and blackened youths spilled out onto the pavement where they drank from plastic cups and marked their territory with their presence.

'Are we going in there?' Asked Claire.

'I am.' I winked, 'Coming with me?'

We pushed our way into the group to find the door. Two voices called out in unison, one mine, one his...

'Shane!'
'Claire!'

I recognised him from the Hat & Feather! This was good fortune indeed as with no money to buy our own drinks, company offered more than friendship.

'What the fuck you doing here?' He asked with a smile.

'We came down for a gig at the Arsenal Tavern. I'm not going to bother going now though.' I pushed Claire forward. 'This is my mate Claire. Buy us some drinks.'

And he did. We followed him inside the Fox, the bouncer stared at Claire but let us through despite the obvious.

This place, this fucking place was incredible. The pub, cleaved firmly between the camp and homosexual pink of 'Media Soho' and the testosterone and neon red of the lighted district; this place was a palace of statements. Industrial skeletons made of rusted body parts, bats and spiders, glow in the dark paintings and every imaginable hair colour, piercing, tattoo and expression of alternative fashion. So the toilets lacked doors and the floor was as sticky as the air to breathe, but this place was welcoming me with all it had to offer.

'Claudia' Said the girl stood next to Shane. She held out the palest hand that I had ever touched and offered it to shake.

'Claire...' I paused and I remembered there were two of me. 'And Claire.'

Claudia had fluorescent pink hair shaped into large coned spikes, each about fifteen centimetres long. She was pretty, Meryl Streep pretty and I shook her pale hand with my slightly dirty one and sealed the friendship.

'I like your dress.' She had said. I liked her Myra Hindley T-Shirt and ripped up kilt look too.

Shane was flirting. I flirted back as the free drinks flowed but my attention was mostly on this new girl. Another lad joined us, but I remember neither his name nor why he was with us.

Claire was indeed lost in this place, but I was found.

Claudia told me that she lived in Maryland, near Stratford with her Mum, who was a crazy liberal, and her little sister Cecilia, an aspiring model. She was everything that I wanted to be. Full of fun and happiness. Passionate. Fiery but not angry. I envied her that she could be her and not be us. Claudia knew of a squat where we could all stay the night and I was glad to get to spend some more time in her company. She was also seventeen.

We left the Intrepid Fox when the money ran dry. Begged a little more for our fares then took a bus or was it two to Peckham, just south of the river.

Peckham.

Gloriuus filthy Peckham, model of the sink estate.

If I found beauty in Soho, it could only follow that I found heaven in these streets. Claudia hurried down the main road, wanting to get from the cold of the night to the warm of something. I paused for a moment to stare in the glass of a barber shop window. A large group of African men hung out at the back listening to music and smoking, but definitely not cutting hair. One of them saw me, smiled and waved, just as I felt Claudia's hand in mine pulling me onwards down the street.

'You should wear shoes.' She said 'You'd be faster. I'll nick you some tomorrow if you like.'

'Mrs Claudia' I said, tucking my arm in hers, 'I think that we will become good friends.'


We entered the estate and I saw those blocks before us. I had never set foot in a place like this. I had never seen this type of wall before. The Commercial Way Housing Estate and its very silence frightened me. I liked that. There were signs as you entered the estate, 'Sleeping Policeman', I thought it nice of them to warn us and walked extra quietly from that point on. The door at the base of the block was kicked from its hinges. It lay against the wall like a tombstone to whatever aspirations the council officers had once been hopeful for. It smelt of piss and canvased graffiti. The lift doors were also broken. Forced back and buckled they now strained against the command to shut and grunted unhappily. We heard them moan and decided to take the stairs.

How many fucking floors? Twenty possibly. Up and up we went. Feet slipping on the pee pee soaked tiles and cold on the concrete landings. The door to flat number 86 was Council Estate blue. What's with the blue? Did the Government get donated a thousand tons of not very nice blue paint in the sixties and seventies? Or did a hundred separate managers of the lives of poor, think this an apt and fitting colour?

Claudia knocked on the door of blue.

Footsteps approached then a female voice called out, 'Who is it?'

A door opened behind us and a child, of a about nine years old with a spongy afro and Batman pajamas stared.

'It's Clod and Shane.' Shouted Claudia. And then quieter, 'And Claire and Claire and Matty' with a smile.

The door in front us opened now and the boy behind us called out.

'Don't worry Ma. It's just the fucking punks again.'

Then he disappeared behind his blue.

The girl wore roller skates. She stared at all of us then back at Clod.

'You bought your whole family?' She jibed. The added. 'Well, hurry up. Get your butts inside.'

The hallway had a nasty carpet. Nasty by design and filth. The carpet led us onwards to a room at the end, which we were informed by Claudia, was free for us to use. The girl on skates, mixed race of coffee skin on tired bones, waved us goodbye and shut the door to a different room. My future.

I stared at all before me.

Claudia lit the candle with the cigarette lighter. The room about three meters square, had a double mattress in one corner, a single in another and a paddling pool in the centre.

Shane smiled at me, 'Wanna share the double?' so I did. but my mind was more firmly on the cock in the paddling pool.

That's Fiend

The small blow up circular paddling pool was blue with orange fish. In its midst was a man. A man with dirty dreads and tattooed face and body. His trousers were pulled down to his knees and his cock was hanging out for all to see. He had a tub of sick next to his head, orange ripple contents now replaced with bile and beer. I stared at him a little, but mostly at his cock.

'That's Fiend.' Said Claudia. 'I'm on the single bed with Matty' She threw a blanket at Little Claire, 'You're in the paddling pool with him.'

And for some inexplicable reason I wished that she had left that job for me.

Continued...

The Giving Fields...

I scooped my hands deep into the soft white of the builders chalk and deposited the powder on the ground in front of me. When I pressed my two palms firmly into the pile, a billowing cloud of pale sent chalk fumes up to my nostrils. I turned my palms back to face me. Then, happy with what I saw, I drew them to my face and held them there. Smudged them down - and round - and over my tears. I looked once more into the mirrored pillar of the doorway before going back for a second handful of white.

I sat there. The ghostly reflection of me available for my viewing. I repositioned my legs so that they met at my knees then splayed outwards at my feet. I draped a weary cigarette holding hand over my knee and watched as the ash grew longer and longer and threatened to fall.

I tapped it. Saw it land in the palm of my hand.

I dipped my forefinger into the ash and wiped its gray carefully over each closed eyelid.

Holding the small twig up to the lights of the street I twirled it with interest. Picked an end and licked it damp.

Dipped back into the ash I saw it black and moisten.

I drew lines. Lines of horror under my eyes and on my lips.

And then I cried again.

_____________________________________________________

The field was bleak and windy and the tiny magic mushrooms hid from our tired minds.

'How many you got?' Shouted Dean. Distant from my position, he stood in the middle of the field and I watched as the wind blew him closer.

I looked down at the small yellow plastic bucket in my hand. 'Twenty, maybe thirty. You?'

'About sixty I reckon. Rats has got about two, the lazy fucker and Collin has sixty. I reckon we call it quits soon. That storm is blowing in.'

I agreed on both counts. We drove in the car and stopped on a grass verge near the base of Glastonbury Tor. There we chewed on mouthfuls of the slimy fungi and waited for things to elevate.

It took about half an hour before the nausea started, the storm hit and the car became smaller and odder than I had perceived it before. I watched as the men laughed and smoked and floated from this normal world. I needed to leave that fucking car.

'Let's climb the Tor.' I said enthusiastically. Before opening the car door and vomiting explosively. I stepped out into the fierce elements of wind and rain, looked up at the tower and then back at the car. I think that the men were talking to me but their words were lost in the breeze.

'Come with me.' I called as I stumbled towards the stile. I think they followed.

The base of the Tor found me muddied and wet and more than a little torn by the hedgerows. I looked up at the great steps of its grassy side with awe, throwing myself to the earth and smelling nature as it met me. I lay there momentarily, watching the storm clouds brew and pattern the roof of my view. I felt the softness of the mushrooms rise and spill towards the manic of LSD.

I better get up.

The wind was so bitter and strong that you could lean into its power and never fall, or so I thought. It supported me as I clambered from handhold to handhold, step to step. I caught sight of the lads, way behind me, moved swiftly up the hill to its summit.

Nature wrapped me in this weird and spiritual place. I felt as if the very Lord of the Underworld, Gwyn ap Nudd, himself had called me here with his potent wind and fury. He has long been part of the tale of this hill that writes him vocal in its history.

I stayed with this 'happy hippie' fantasy until darkness melted to the surrounding meadows and the voices of my friends called me back to the warmth of the car. I shuffled to the edge of the Tor and looked down. Moved by the black, still deepened by the mushrooms, I was reluctant to descend. I crouched. Placed my legs over the first long drop and carefully pushed forwards to lower myself down.

Dean called out to me from far in the distance but I had lost my voice in Annwn and was unable to respond.

I tried to move again.

Stagnant.

Here and always here. In this black.

Missing friends. Missing home. Missing family. Missing courage.

Not even fucking. I sat.

Here and always here.

In the distance at the base of the Tor I saw the light inside the car blink on then off as they climbed inside and sheltered.

The wind blew strong again and I wanted to stand and scream and tell these demons to take me down into their depth, they could have me, I did not care. But here I sat.

Here and always here.

Realising that the next drop was not achievable, I sidled over towards the right and tried to stretch my feet to meet the ledge. It worked. Back towards the left I found a second drop that I could reach; and so it continued until my damp and stiffened hands touched the warm disgruntled wood of the gate. Disorientated, I was uncertain which side of the Tor I now found myself on. I cleared the gate and found myself in the long grass of a grazing field. Alarmed by the first unexpected movement of a lone cow I fled towards the road...

But found no road. Just a hedge.

I tried to lay my thoughts of dark away and hide them from the mushrooms of my brain. But there is nothing like trying not to think of something to make you think of something and I soon worked myself up to a terrible state. With every sound I jumped and changed direction. Where the fuck was the car?

Voices?

Definitely fucking voices.

A fire.

Over the top of the hedge and through its dense I could see the licking orange of fire.

Momentarily I wondered if I had walked the whole twenty miles from Glastonbury to Bath? Was this not the bender site before me?

Was that not Old John with the laughing beard and welcome stories?

I felt my way along the hedgerow. Fingertip led I found the break and tip toed in.

Not benders.

Tents.

The cow mooed as my companion for a while and lit his horn electric yellow to illuminate my night.

I thought perhaps him not a cow. But more a motorbike.

Beings moved around this place with ghostly ease. I watched, engaged and fearful. Clicked my bare heels together and hoped for home.

Nothing.

Falling to my knees I crawled, still unseen by the creatures of this place, past another metal cow and quiet voices to the door. I unzipped it and slipped into the black of haven. Soft blankets under hand and knee, I grabbed one and held it to my body for warmth.

Sleep.

I could feel the bright of the torch before I even opened my eyes. I heard them speak too.

'It's a girl.' Said the first voice.
'Who the fuck is she?' Said the second.

I opened one eye.

'She's Claire.' I offered.

'Claire!' Said the first voice.
'Who the fuck is Claire?' Said the second.
I sat up, blinded by the bright light that they held on me.

'Who gives a fuck who Claire is?' Said the first voice. I was still unable to see their faces, 'She's in our fucking tent. Hello Claire!'
'Hello Claire.' Said the second voice.

There was some bickering. Only the first voice had a condom and there was much debate about whether the voice with the latex should go first or last.

'I ain't going after you man.' Said the first voice. 'I've got the rubber. I'll leave her nice and clean for you.' They shone the torch in my face again. 'You on drugs?' He asked.

The first voice asked me to lie down and told his mate to turn around.

'Fuck off.' Said the second voice. 'You go first I get to watch.'

The first voice had a beard and smelt of ale. The second smelt of ale but had no beard.

'God,'laughed the first voice, 'sure moves in mysterious ways.'

In the morning we all had sex again and I wondered if the car would still be close.

When they finished, I unzipped the tent about halfway and looked outside. This muddy field was full of motorbikes and tents. I climbed out and met the world again.

I have to stop this. I thought. Or one day I will end up dead.

Then I waved the boys a cheery goodbye and made my way through the piles of shit, back towards the road.

Collin was leaning against the car smoking an angry cigarette.

'Where the fuck have you been?' He opened the door 'Get in the fucking car!'

Dean winked at me and smiled.

'I was just...'

'Oh we know where you were.' Laughed Dean. 'That's why Colin here is so pissed. He doesn't think that was a very lady-like thing to do.'

Rats laughed himself to near hysteria in the front seat.

I lay my head on Dean's shoulder and held his hand

'Hey Coll. What happened to that little girlfriend of yours? How old is she? Ten?' Teased Dean.

'She's fucking fifteen you bastard.'

'Another fucking year and she can get her picture in Barely Legal. That should make you proud.'

I could see that Collin was riled.

'What's her name Coll?' I asked.

'Her name's Claire.' He answered. Then looking back at me, 'But she's nothing like you at all.'

Continued