Care Factor Zero (5 page)

‘I know the scene,’ Larceny blurted out before she could stop herself. Then she bit her lip. Shit. Why did she say that? Now he’d ask her a heap of questions.

But he didn’t. He walked quickly down the esplanade, following Frantik, Comma and Bex, and left her to run, panting, after him. Did this mean he was rejecting her? Did he think she was a fruit loop? She caught up, swung her tote bag from her shoulder and started to belt him round the head with it.

‘Whoa!’

He caught the strap and held on. They faced each other, stormy green eyes meeting angry black.

‘What’s with you now, Larceny? You nuts or something?’

The grey mist came down, cloying, evil.

‘Kill him,’ screamed the voices.

He saw the insane rage blazing in her eyes and intuitively recognised her fear.

‘Larceny. It’s okay. LARCENY!’

He knew better than to touch her. He ducked from the swinging bag, but stayed cool, while Comma, Frantik and Bex stood frozen to the spot.

‘Lynx. Grab her!’ yelled Bex.

‘No. It’s okay, it’s just like a bad trip,’ soothed Lynx, his dark eyes never leaving Larceny’s face. Her sleeves fell back as she raised both arms, and Bex and Comma both gasped as they saw the mutilations.

Larceny froze at their looks of pure horror. They knew! Defeated, all anger gone, she slumped down on the footpath.

‘Look at her arms,’ whispered Bex to Comma. ‘She’s psycho.’

‘Bex, shut up!’ Lynx’s voice was tight. ‘If you want to be useful, go and buy two hot coffees, black and strong, with lots of sugar.’

‘I haven’t got any money.’

‘I have,’ said Frantik, eager to be away from the scene. ‘Let’s go.’

They took off up the street.

‘Stand up,’ said Lynx, not touching Larceny. ‘We need to get out of the rain.’

Lurching, she got to her feet. She was so
cold
. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. She half stumbled to a bus shelter and collapsed, shivering, on the seat.

‘Have you got any warm clothes in there?’

He indicated the tote bag.

‘No. All dirty.’

The others came puffing back with the coffees.

‘Here. Drink it,’ he said, handing her one of the containers.

‘But … I take milk, and …’

‘Drink it!’

Larceny did as she was told.

‘Now the other one.’

The hot liquid scalded her throat, but it gave her strength, a caffeine burst that sent the blood pounding through her veins and made her heart pump harder. She groaned, closed her eyes, and leaned back against the wall of the shelter. These bursts of anger always left her weak. Her head throbbed with an aching weariness. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’ she muttered to the mocking voice that was chuckling in her head. The others thought that she meant them.

‘She’s bad, man. A nut case. Leave her,’ said Frantik. Comma and Bex just stared. Lynx frowned. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Then he sighed.

‘I’ll take you home,’ he said to her.

‘Home? Your parents will freak,’ said Frantik.

‘So what’s new? They’re always freaking. She needs a warm bed for the night.’

‘Yeah. Right. So do we all,’ said Bex sourly.

‘We could take her to Sal’s,’ Comma suggested. ‘There’s no one in her room right now. Sal left with Lisa yesterday. She told me Bex and I could use it.’

‘You didn’t tell me!’

‘I didn’t think of it, Bex.’

‘Sometimes you’re a pain in the arse. Why are we freezing out here when we could be in a nice warm room with a tv?’ snapped Bex.

‘I forgot, didn’t I?’

‘Quit it. Let’s get there. Fast,’ said Lynx.

‘You’re not bringing
her
!’

Their conversation whirled round the periphery of Larceny’s mind like a damp, insidious fog. She was too drained to care what happened. So long as no one tried to get too close …

Larceny woke up. She struggled to remember where she was and what had happened. Gradually her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. She was on a sofa. Someone had put a pillow under her head and placed a moth-eaten rug over her. She frowned, trying to remember. What was this place?

Then she remembered something about Sal and Lisa lending their room to Bex and Comma. This must be the room.

Up the other end was a double bed. There were cupboards, a stove, a small fridge and a sink down one side, and more cupboards on the other, with a single size mattress propped against them. A tv on a low coffee table was on with the sound turned down low, and there was a rickety table and
two chairs completing the furniture.

She knew real fear. How had she got here? Who’d brought her? It was like a jigsaw with important pieces missing. She sat up and banged her head on a shelf that held CDs, magazines and other paraphernalia.

‘Shit!’

‘You’re awake. About time.’ Bex uncurled herself from a heap of blankets on the double bed and looked sourly at Larceny.

‘How long have I been here?’

‘Since about two. You’ve been raving on, threshing about, burning up. Lynx said you were delirious.’

Bex got off the bed and came over to Larceny, putting a hand on her forehead. Larceny froze.

‘Don’t panic. You’re not my type,’ snapped Bex, her eyes glittering. ‘I wouldn’t want to get with you if you were the last person on earth.’

She squatted beside the bed, her eyes level with Larceny’s. ‘What’s your game, sis?’ she hissed. ‘You’ve got our Lynx goin’ round in circles out buyin’ food with Comma, and you’ve got Frantik out of his brain doin’ your laundry in the coin op down the street.’

Under the blanket Larceny ran her hands down her body. She was wearing only knickers and bra. Her
eyes flashed with anger. ‘Where’s my clothes?’

‘We took them off. You were soakin’ wet. Just our luck you’d get real sick and die if we left you in them. Relax. There’s hot food comin’, clean clothes comin’, then you’re on your way, babe. We don’t need you.’

‘Thanks,’ said Larceny drily. Actually she could cope with Bex and her obvious dislike more easily than she could with Lynx and his kindness. Hatred, dislike and loathing she understood. Caring and kindness were something else and not to be trusted.

‘Where’s my cigarettes?’

‘Probably gone through the wash cycle,’ said Bex. ‘I suppose you want one of mine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘All take and no give, aren’t you.’

‘Yeah.’

Bex passed over the packet and a lighter. Larceny lit up, inhaled and nearly choked.

‘What
is
this shit?’

‘Regular tobacco. Sixteens.’

Larceny’s head swam. ‘I smoke fours.’

‘Well, sorry I can’t oblige.’

Bex sat back on her heels and stared at the wall, pointedly ignoring her. Larceny looked at her watch. Nearly six! How could she have slept for so long?
Major anger and voice attacks usually left her exhausted, but never as bad as this before. Sammy’s death, going on the run; the whole thing had knocked her about more than she’d realised. She looked at the top of Bex’s head. Stuck-up butch bitch.

‘So what’s it like being a nut case, then?’ said Bex.

Larceny felt the anger beginning to boil, but forced herself to be calm. Bex was deliberately trying to wind her up. The other girl had moved to the far end of the sofa, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the armrest. Larceny smiled sweetly at her.

‘It’s cool. So what’s it like being gay, then?’

‘Huh?’ Bex snapped to attention.

‘You reckon
I’m
nuts and you’re having it off with a girl. Now
that’s
not normal, is it!’

‘Mind your own business.’

‘No, you tell
me
. It is
my
business. You think I’m nuts. Not normal. You might be able to convert me, you never know,’ taunted Larceny. Bex looked at her coldly.

‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘Just lie there and keep your mouth shut.’

‘Maybe I should ask Comma.’

‘Do what you like, only right now SHUT UP! I’m not askin’ you about the cuts on your arms, am I?’

Larceny went rigid. Bex had hit a raw spot.

‘You had no right to strip me,’ she spat, her green eyes flashing hatred.

Bex yawned, pretending indifference, though her curiosity was aroused. The razor scars were scattered up Larceny’s arms, showing that there’d been more than one attempt. Why had this babe wanted to bump herself off? There was more to her than met the eye.

‘Yeah. Right. We should have left you lying in your wet gear. Anyway, we knew about the scars before we stripped you. When you were attacking Lynx and going psycho you put up your arms and your sleeves dropped down.’

Larceny stared at her. Then she remembered the look on Nick’s face when she’d lifted her arm to stab him with the fork. She’d seen the widening of his eyes. He’d seen the scars too. It made her feel very vulnerable.

‘Can’t even kill yourself properly, can you?’ sneered Bex.

Right then Larceny decided to kill
her
! She threw back the blanket and went to launch herself across the space, to gouge out Bex’s sly eyes, to put her hands round that scrawny throat and —

Suddenly the door opened, and Lynx and Comma appeared, loaded up with grocery bags. Larceny, frightened by the force of her anger, subsided back onto the sofa and, suddenly conscious of her near-nudity, pulled the blanket up to her chin.

‘Did you rob a store or somethin’?’ asked Bex as she surveyed the bags.

‘Bread and groceries from the Salvos, some specked fruit, and we bought coffee, milk, eggs, and grog with the rest of the cash.’

Bex looked at Larceny. ‘And the remainder is payin’ for the laundry.’

‘
My
money?’

‘We used it all. And our own too. You gonna gripe about it?’

Bex leapt up from the floor and with her hands on her hips stood glaring down at Larceny. Larceny shook her head. The burst of adrenalin fired by her rage had left her feeling weak and ill. She was helpless. This crew had taken her in and were looking after her. How could she begrudge them using her money?

Well, the job with Stella would be no-go now. Anyway, she didn’t want to go back because Nick would be able to track her down.

Lynx was unpacking the bags and ramming stuff in the fridge. ‘This goony can go on the bench,’ he said, hauling out a wine cask.

Larceny flinched, recalling Emma in the mall and what goony and Avil had done to her.

Lynx threw the empty bags in a corner. He juggled three oranges in his hands.

‘Want one?’ he said to Larceny.

She shook her head. Right now the thought of food made her feel queasy. She was often like this after a rage attack — stomach churning, weak at the knees. Maybe she
should
be on antidepressants all the time. No. She wanted to be straight and drug-free. Taking that stuff still made her feel like shit. Woozy shit.

‘There’s cold pies here, and some snot blocks, a bit squashed, but who’s caring?’ said Lynx. He brought a pie and a vanilla slice over to Larceny.

‘No thanks. I’m not hungry.’

‘Not good enough for ya, then?’ snapped Bex, who was lying on the double bed and wolfing down a cold pie. Then catching Larceny’s gaze, she dumped the pie on the floor and seized hold of Comma, pulling her onto the bed. She started groping and touching Comma up. Larceny tore her eyes away. It was disgusting. It was
gross
. She looked back.

Bex peered at her over Comma’s shoulder and moved her tongue suggestively. Larceny felt like spewing, although she realised that Bex was putting on a show just for her benefit. She tore her gaze away again and flicked her eyes across to Frantik.

He’d dumped her laundry on the floor near the sofa and was pacing up and down, up and down near the cupboards. Larceny knew the signs. He was hanging out for a taste of whatever he was coming down from. He realised she was watching him, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, lit one up and took short, angry puffs.

Comma suddenly pulled out of Bex’s mauling session. Maybe she’d realised that she was being used to get back at Larceny in some way. Straightening her clothes, she got off the double bed. She walked over and sat down on the edge of the sofa.

‘Comma. Get back here!’ Bex commanded.

Comma ignored her. ‘You feelin’ better?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Leave her, the bad-tempered bitch. I said come back here,’ barked Bex. Comma sighed, stood up and walked over to Bex, who’d got off the bed and plonked herself at the table.

‘This is great,’ said Lynx, switching on the light. He gazed with satisfaction round the small crowded room. To Larceny’s world-weary eyes it looked crappy. Tattered curtains flapped at the window, its broken pane letting in the cold wintry breeze. The walls were grimy and newspapers and old cartons littered the floor. The whole place stank of stale tobacco, dope, and alcohol, with vague undertones of urine, decayed food and dampness. But it was a roof over her head, and she should have been grateful.

She wasn’t. She resented their help, their intrusion into her life when she wanted to be left alone. She used people for her own ends, so why this feeling of unrest? Was it because she now owed them something? That was crap. Larceny Leyton never owed anybody
anything
!

Lynx had bought a six pack and a bottle of Jim Beam. They cracked open the Jimmie and passed it round. She shook her head when Frantik waved it at her.

‘Nah.’

‘Good! All the more for us,’ said Bex, ripping the tab off a tinnie and glugging down the beer almost in one swallow.

Their talk rippled and flowed round her as she snuggled back under the blanket. The night spent at Flinders Street had left her stiff and sore, and the killing of Sammy Soul — shit. It all came rushing back, the look on his face as she’d swung the bag, the sound his head had made when it hit the door. The blood — oh,
shit
!

She forced herself to think about something else. Her mother rocking her, crooning to her. In her imagination her mother was a beautiful, serene woman with a calm face like the statue of Mary she’d seen in churches. She hadn’t really killed herself. It was all a rumour and she was really waiting for Larceny to find her. They’d be together at last and do lovely mother/daughter stuff, like going shopping for clothes and baking cakes and doing all the things that tv mothers did with their daughters … Her eyelids drooped.

‘She’s asleep again, the stupid bitch,’ said Bex.

‘Leave her be,’ said Lynx, his voice tight and angry. For some reason he felt protective towards Larceny. There was a lost and lonely sadness beneath the hard exterior: he recognised and acknowledged it because in a way it was a reflection of himself.

When Larceny woke she was hungry. The room was dark and seemed to be empty. The crew had gone off and left her. Good. She could grab her clothes and get out. She sat up and her head spun.

‘You okay?’

The room wasn’t empty after all. A pile of bedclothes heaved on the double bed and Comma sat up.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ll make you some soup.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ said Larceny shortly, but Comma had got to her feet, switched on the light, and was rummaging in the cupboard.

‘Where’s everyone?’

‘Frantik had to score, and Lynx and Bex have gone cruising. They’ll be back soon.’

‘Bex left you alone with me?’

‘She didn’t want to, but Lynx said you weren’t gay or bi, so she went. Well, he made her go. She knows this area. She’s got the best contacts for — never mind.’

‘Dope? Speed? Smack?’

‘I didn’t say
nothin
’!’

Larceny dropped the subject. It wasn’t important. But how had Lynx known she wasn’t gay or bi?
Larceny gazed curiously at Comma as she lumbered round in her outsize t-shirt, thick white legs moving clumsily as she found a saucepan and started pouring some soup from a tin into it.

‘I’ll toast some of this bread,’ she said, switching on the griller. It would’ve been easier to plug in the toaster, thought Larceny, but she didn’t say anything.

The soup in the pan bubbled over and the toast started to burn. Comma scraped it busily into the sink, put it onto a plate, slopped wads of margarine onto it, and poured what remained of the soup into a chipped mug. Then she put it on the table. Obviously she was expected to get up, thought Larceny, peeling back the bedclothes and putting her feet tentatively on the floor.

‘Here.’

Comma brought over an armful of clothes — her top, jeans, socks and undies. With her back to Comma, Larceny put on the clean things, pulling her sweatshirt over her head. ‘I need to go to the toilet,’ she said.

‘We gave you a bucket before. You don’t remember?’

‘I peed in front of everyone?’ Larceny was appalled.

‘Just in front of me. And Bex. The boys turned their backs.’

Larceny felt her cheeks burn. They would’ve
heard
!

‘The bathroom’s down the end of the hall,’ said Comma. ‘Here’s some paper. Don’t take long. Your soup’ll get cold.’

Larceny grabbed a towel and the paper and went slowly out into the dark passage. The whole place stank of stale unwashed bodies and the grime of years. She reached the door at the end of the hallway and switched on the light.

The toilet was filthy. She gagged and held her nose as she squatted, not game enough to sit on the seat. She tried not to look at the dirty washbasin when she rinsed her hands. When she turned on the tap only a dribble of rusty water came out. Peering into the shower recess she recoiled at the mould growing on the walls and floor, and decided not to have a shower. Using a wet corner of the towel and a knob of soap she found on a ledge she rubbed herself all over and dried off with the rest of the towel. Later she’d boil up some water back in the room and have a good wash. Although she shouldn’t have been dirty: she’d had a shower at Nick’s that morning. What time was it? She peered at her watch. Nearly midnight. It felt like a thousand years ago that she’d been eating pancakes in his kitchen.