04 . She’s Lost Control

When I try and remember exactly what happened, minute by minute and in the right order it’s very difficult. I know we kind of wandered around and sometimes I was with Em and sometimes I was by myself and then at one point I was having a real heart to heart with Trev, except I wasn’t speaking really, just nodding while he told me that Neil and Nicky seemed to be getting on really well and he was really pleased about that and he’d bumped into someone he’d dated a couple of times and they were all going to go to this other club back in town that opened at nine. I knew it’d only be blokes in white vests who were desperate to cop off, that and people who’d taken too many drugs earlier on, trying to wring the last drops out of their party night, so I said no thanks, we’d get a ride with some people we’d met from Didsbury. He looked relieved, and I could understand. He’s really nice but sometimes you don’t want two sixteen-year-old girls cramping your big gay style. Em looked pissed off though. She doesn’t pick up on things like that.

We kissed our goodbyes, hugging Nicky like a long lost brother and promising to go out again together soon as possible, this had been so great blah blah. We meant it all at the time. But the music was still full on and had changed now, a psychedelic buzzing that we ran back to try and surf, to grasp after our perfect high of before, catching and then losing the edge of it, getting progressively harder to climb onto and finally looking at each other and shrugging, giving up but still wide awake and knowing it was pointless to re-enter the straight world for a while yet, we’d have to go on to take ourselves down slowly, and forget sleeping until that night.

When we walked over Blackwood still had his top off. He’d folded his t-shirt lengthways and tucked the bottom into the waistband of his jeans, the rest dangling down the back of his leg like a sodden tail. I remembered that black and white picture of Morrissey with the flowers in his back pocket and it made me smile, but I didn’t mention it because he might have got offended. I could see sweat shining in the low light on his shallow chest, his body pale like milk, except with a red top instead of blue and silver. He turned and saw us coming.

“Alright you two, coming with us then?”

It was a statement rather than a question as he fished out a damp pack of Marlboro Lights from his back pocket, extracted his Bic and three flattened cigs and passed a couple over. Our tobacco was log gone and we pulled hungrily on them, the smoke hitting our lungs deep and connecting us to our bodies again.

* * *

By the time we’d stumbled out into the chill of the morning a slick layer of dew shining the cars that had seemed so warm and cosy the night before, filled them with the malted smell of bud and bodies taught with speed and grimy from a night’s dancing the world might have bee thinking of waking up. As we sped through brick red terraced streets we spotted the odd reveler, like us probably off to a party, or home to regret the night before, or just to get ready for work. I thanked the go of sloth I’d jacked in my Saturday job even though it meant we were skint.

It was one of those massive Victorian semis near the Whalley. The ones that you try to imagine a whole family living in, before they were turned into flats for dolies and students, and old people’s homes, but you can’t, not with the potholes outside, dirty nappies in the gutter and the paved over gardens with dandelions poking through. The traffic had got busier as we smoked through town but now it was suddenly quiet again.

We parked under a massive sycamore tree, its roots heaving a patchwork of pavement slabs and tarmac up in rough peaks, threatening to do the same to the road next to it. My legs had gone stiff in the car and I felt about a hundred years old as I stretched them to get some circulation going. My hands and feet were icy and my t-shirt was still damp from before, clinging to my back and sucking the morning air through my hoodie and onto my skin. I shivered as we followed Blackwood and his mates to the door, waited while a student looking guy with blonde dreds and a spliff in his hand opened the door and greeted each of the others with a complicated handshake. When it came to my turn I held my hand out and he took it, but when he started doing all that funny stuff I pulled away, mumbled,

“Pleased to meet you.” Em stuck her hands in her pockets and shuffled past him, nodding:

“Alright mate.”

We made our way past the pushchair and old fridges guarding the downstairs hallway, up carpet worn to the backing and dull with dirt and age. Dred boy had left the flat’s door open on his way down and the heavy smell of weed guided us in from half way up. Lee Perry was pumping out of some heavy duty speakers, bass thumping our chests as we sidled past a pair of expensive bikes propped up against the wall, and turned to look into the lounge. Bodies filled every space, sardined on the low sofa, nodding and rocking to the sounds of The Upsetter, leaning against the front of armchairs, cross legged on the Oxfam rugs, someone flaked out by the TV, asleep or passed out. Smoke filled the room like soup, illuminated in strips where a tie-dyed throw didn’t quite cover the whole window. It was warm in there but I still had a shiver in my bones, and I badly needed to pee.

I stepped back to let our host back to his place in the lounge, where most of our lot were making themselves some space, getting their papers out while everyone else perked up a bit at the new arrivals.

“Where’s the toilet?” My voice sounded thin and polite, even though I’d halted the ‘please’ before it left my mouth. I felt suddenly like a kid at a birthday party, queuing up in a girly frock with my present clutched in my hands.

“Down there man.” Dred boy waved a lazy hand, further down the hallway, his eyes hooded.

I carried on down the hall, mouth slack with the effort of it all, mind racing, thinking I’d quite like to curl up inside a nice warm duvet and shut down for a while, just switch myself off, maybe wake up in my own bed with the smell of bacon and eggs coming up the stairs and Mum making coffee, and Dad sat at the kitchen table, the papers spread out in front of him. Em followed me. It smelt of damp in the flat, and you could tell when you were getting near the kitchen by the touch of penicillin that mixed in with it. There seemed to be another party going on in there, I could hear different music, and laughing, but it all looked a bit too bright to go in. I spotted the edge of a bath through a half open door and slipped through. You could tell the party had started early the night before. Hundreds of people had probably been through that flat since then as the vibe changed from booze to dance to spliff. Someone had poured beer onto a pile of dirty washing by the bath. I skirted it on my way to the toilet and looked round for some paper to wipe traces of sick off the seat. Em was fiddling with the door.

“It doesn’t lock.”

“Well guard it then and I’ll do the same for you.”

I was bursting now, grabbed a towel out of the bath and used it that to mop up as best I could. Chucked it across the room to land on top of the lagered washpile. Em leaned her back against the door, slid down deliberately to squat on the heels of her adidas and reached over to check one of the cans still upright on the floor. She shook it. Empty. The ring pull pinged around inside like a charity box. The next one was silent and I could see by the weight of it we might be in luck. She held the opening up to her eye and peered into it curiously,

“What do you reckon?”

“Give it a try. Is there ash round the top?” I was finished now, and the thought of something that would dull this too bright morning was welcome. I was happy that Em was willing to risk a mouth full of fag butts rather than me.

“It’s bitter in’it’ she looked up, made a face. “D’you want some?”

I pulled my Farrahs up (charity find) and deliberatelt checked the bottoms for sick. They were pretty knackered from the floor at the caves but I didn’t want to be dragging puke round on my clothes. Em was still holding the can of Stones out so I took it as she scrambled up to swap places. I tipped a thin stream out into the bath. It ran clear so I tentatively risked a sip.

“That’s fine that is.”

Suddenly the door shifted behind me and I realised I wasn’t holding it shut. Em, already hovering over the toilet, squealed,

“Oy!” as I slammed it back into its frame.

“Wait a minute!” I warned, leaning against it as if I was trying to stop an army attacking us. I looked round at Em with her bum stuck out over the bowl.

“No worries, sorry man.” The apology came muffled through the door. I crossed my eyes at Em and stuck two fingers at her in a hippy sign. She snorted with the giggles, which set me off.

“Shut up!” I didn’t really mean it. It just seemed the right thing to say, not be rude to our hosts and all that. I could hear footsteps shuffling away.

“Heyy man ..” Em rolled her eyes and I collapsed, stomach tight and shaking, tears seeping past my lashes. I took a swig from the can to calm myself down, handed it to Em as she wandered over.

“Hey, look at this!” she swooped down under another cluster of tins and brought out a half open packet of Marlboro Lights.
“There’s fags in here,” she eased up the top and took two out, “One for you and one for me”, grinned and dug for her lighter, “we better smoke these in here or someone’ll tap us for the rest.” I nodded.

We finished the can together, sat companionably there on the floor against the door of the bathroom. Once the nicotine and alcohol had warmed us up a bit we thought we’d go see what was going on in the rest of the flat.

It felt like we’d been in there ages but nothing much had changed outside. We stuck our heads round the door of the kitchen but there were too many student types dancing around to crap music and ignoring us so after checking there was no drink in there we retreated. We didn’t know what to do then so we tried a few doors. The first one was locked. Then the second one opened okay but stopped halfway. I stuck my head through the gap and saw someone lying in the way. There were a few more bodies wrapped in sleeping bags on the floor and probably three making the big mound under a duvet on the bed. The guy stopping the door was still in his clothes, no cover. Probably collapsed there sometime in the night when he realised there was no better option. Last man standing. The room stank of old beer and new sweat. A head reared up from behind the bed.

“Fuck off!”
I managed to shut the door quickly so whatever they chucked hit the wall with a thud. I don’t think that even woke that guy up. I could hear Em giggling again like a naughty schoolgirl. I liked it when she laughed.

“Some people..” I shrugged at her to make her carry on.

“What about this one?”

She pointed at the door across the hallway, which was pushed almost shut. I thought of chucking a can in if the room was full like the last, picked one up from the floor. This one had been used as an ashtray and I swilled the last of the beer mixed with tab ends round in the bottom, working out how bet to chuck it so the contents would spray out over most of the space. I nudged the door open a fraction. A stereo was on, some kind of chill out mix with the sound of crashing waves and fluffy clouds and I could tell they had a fire on or something as waves of warmth flooded towards me. Em nudged me forwards so I stumbled into the door, pushing it open. It was another bedroom but this one had a bedside light on and a warm orange glow made it inviting. The people lounging out on the bed looked over as we entered.

“Hey Clare!” Jane sat up, “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Just got here. Been to the caves.” I was surprised to see her there at such a lame party, but tried to be cool, “Em’s here too.”

I walked in and looked round for somewhere to sit. The party seemed to be happening on the bed but I didn’t want to intrude. Em walked in behind me and sat on the edge while I started to lower myself to the floor.

“Oy, don’t be daft Clare. Move up everyone, these are my mates,” Jane seemed in control of the situation as usual.

A couple of guys shifted up and made room. Blackwood was one of them but I didn’t recognise any of the other people on the bed.

“We’ve been doing quarters all night,” Jane was breathless with it, her eyes were dark and looked past us at something wonderful. She snuggled up against Em and leaned over to put an affectionate hand on my leg, “These are my two best mates” she announced decisively to the others.

“I thought we were your best mates,” someone said, and they all laughed conspiratorially. They looked like they’d been having a good night.

Blackwood softly brushed my arm to get my attention and passed over a full bottle of brandy. I was surprised by the generosity: he’d been taciturn on the way over and I’d thought he’d begrudged us the journey into town. I took a swig that stung my dry lips but dripped down the back of my throat like hot syrup. I passed it on. Jane was smiling like a crazy thing. She turned to the girl that had been lying next to her.

“This is Ann-Marie,” she gushed, “She goes out with Tom. This is Tom,” she indicated the guy behind me, who stuck out his hand to shake, “This is Rob and this is Rich.”

Rob was the guy we’d known as Blackwood, I wondered how Jane knew him. We were all crammed together on the bed and I could feel my tense limbs unraveling. Em shivered and pushed her hands down between her thighs to warm them.

“You cold? Here have some more brandy.”

Jane passed the bottle and this time it went down more easily. It felt like five o’clock on a cosy winter day, one where you don’t have to go out and you shut the curtains and put the lights on and it’s nearly Christmas. Blackwood took my hand as I passed the bottle on and rubbed it between his to warm it, and Rich did the same for Em. It was great. I kicked my trainers off and tucked my cold feet under my body, folded the duvet round them. Jane and Ann-Marie were comparing hands and then we all compared hands and put our palms together each in turn to see who had the longest, the widest, the softest.

By the time we nearly finished the bottle mostly everyone had fallen asleep. A tiny puddle of spit was collecting on the duvet cover by Em’s mouth and we were a tangle of bodies and legs to make room. I was curled up with Tom behind me, the others in front. He was making my head crawl by pressing his outspread fingers on my scalp. It worked a bit, made me shiver. He started to rub my shoulders, which felt fantastic; I guess it had been a long night. I pushed my back against his hands.
“Oh that’s nice.”

His fingertips were strong, pushing in between my shoulder blades and stretching the muscles there, loosening my neck. He slid his palms up to either side of my chin, rubbing and warming on the way, I could feel his chest up against my back and something digging into the small of my back, his lips brushing my hair, the stubble round his mouth gristling my skin as he got surer of himself.

I stiffened, flicknifed my whole body back and my head hit him right on the bridge of his nose so he yelped in pain and let go of me to wrap his hands around his face.

“You bitch!”

As I jumped onto the floor to find my shoes I could see the sleepers jolted into consciousness by the sudden movement and commotion. Em was still pulling her thumb out of her mouth, slick with spit, while Jane bounded across the bed to join me, her record bag banging people’s heads, not caring who she trampled on the way.

“You pervs!” she spat back at them, “and with your girlfriend in the same room as well!”

Ann-Marie was rolling her eyes.

“You’re such a loser Tom. We were having such a nice time,” her eyelids flickered lazily, “Hey girls, he’s sorry, why don’t we have another quarter and be friends again eh?”

She rolled over to look for the brass box with the yin yang that I’d noticed they kept their drugs in, a holy tabernacle in the inner sanctum of the flat. I was shaking, and having trouble putting shoes back on. Jane put a protective hand on my back and I was flattered at the venom in her voice as she attacked.

“You’re disgusting! He was trying to touch me up before,” she pointed at Rich “and you never said nothing. We’re not staying here with you parasites. Em, come on, we’re out of here!”

As Em pinged off the bed towards us I watched Jane aim a big glob of spit right into the centre of the lot of them. It seemed to take forever to sail over as they all stared, horrified, and as it disappeared into the muddle of bedclothes I knew we better get out of there quick. I made a break for the door and yanked it open, breathlessly rushing, stumbling, past the now empty kitchen, glimpsing a mess of bodies as we rushed past the now silent lounge. The door slammed behind us as we tumbled like puppies down the stairs, saluting the pale, thin girl struggling with toddler and pushchair at the bottom and shooting out of the open door into the sunlight.