Authors: Clare Allan
'You're
the one going to the Dorothy Fish!' said Swiller Steve, taken the hump a bit.
'You're
the one going, what you asking
us
for?
'I was waiting for Poppy to come back at him, and when she never, I give her a look. And that's when I seen she got tears
in her eyes. I'm like what?, do you know what I'm saying! You never seen nobody swing so fast, not even Pollyanna before she
got stuck. Two seconds ago she's all laughing and joking and loving the fireworks, flying she was, and now CRASH! like you'd
ripped her wings off.
'She's alright, man,' White Wesley said. 'She's new. Still finding her feet, no offence. How do you prove you're mad?' he
said. 'Well you do mad things, innit,' he said. 'Innit, Poppy!'
But Poppy didn't answer; she was crying now, proper tears. I'm like, Jesus! Do you know what I'm saying! It must of been what
Swiller Steve said 'cause there weren't nothing else it
could
of been, but, it weren't hardly
nothing
what Swiller Steve said. Darkwoods dribblers was always sniping. 'For fuck sake Poppy, get a grip on yourself!' I'm thinking.
'You alright?' said Chip. You could see he didn't get it neither; none of us didn't. Swiller Steve sat looking down at the
top of the wardrobe.
'I'm sorry,' said Poppy.
'Here,' Wesley said, and he give her a bottle of Mellizone. 'Have one of these, take the edge off,' he said. I ain't saying
nothing but I swear she taken two if not three 'cause I seen her.
After that visiting time was over. Ptolomea come in, stood propping the door wide open with her big fat arse. We had to queue
half an hour for the lift and the whole time I never said nothing. And I never said nothing all the way down the hill and
when we got to the turning I never said nothing, just 'See you on Monday,' that's all I said. I never said nothing about her
crying, not once, and I done it deliberate.
40. How Poppy come along pretty remarkable good
I'm not being funny but Poppy come along good. Fact she come along pretty remarkable good if you think of how normal she started.
Course she had a good teacher, ain't saying it don't help, but right from the start she was adding in stuff of her own like
off of her bat. I might of suggested sorting her clothes out, ditching the hipster jeans for a start, and the snakeskin boots,
do you know what I'm saying, just like basic dribbling the end of the day, but it was her started gnawing her nails non-stop,
like a gerbil gnawing the bars of his cage, and when there weren't no nails left she gnawed at the skin and fucking disgusting
it was as well. 'Give it a rest,' I'd say. 'Jesus, Poppy! You's putting me off of my fatty lamb stew!' And she'd stop right
away like I'd give it a kick, the cage not the gerbil, do you know what I'm saying, like Mandy's gerbil down Sunshine House,
used to gnaw half the night but I ain't going there 'cause I got to get on with the story. Then inside of two seconds she'd
start up again.'Poppy!' I'd say and she'd look at me startled; she never even realised, it seemed like sometimes. 'Sorry,'
she'd mutter and wander off, smoke a fag out in the common room with her tracksuit bums slipped halfway down her arse, never
ate nothing neither, aside of her fingers, that is.
Course two steps forward, one step back, do you know what I'm saying; weren't plain sailing. Sometimes it seemed like she'd
lost her nerve. 'What the fuck am I
doing,
N?' she'd say. 'Look at me! What the fuck's going on! I wouldn't of got out of
bed
like this two months ago! I mean, look at my hair!' And she'd stand and stare at herself in the mirror, hair hung down like
a spaniel's ears, and this look on her face, like 'What is
that
I've trod in!' . . . 'You just ain't used to it, Poppy,' I'd say. 'That's all it is. Do you know what I'm saying. It's 'cause
you been living like a sniff all your life; you can't see nothing just how it is. I'm not being funny,' I'd say to her, 'but
you don't even look that bad, to be honest. You might scrape Low Low Middle,' I said. 'I'm just saying my opinion,' I said.
'You might scrape Low Low Middle,' I said . . . 'I look like a
psychopath!'
she said. 'You don't,' I said. 'That's what I'm saying. You got to take your sniff specs off. Take your sniff specs off!'
I said. She taken them off. 'You see,' I said. 'You look practically normal now,' I said. She frowned. 'I bloody well hope
not!' she said. 'You going to be out there all day!' shouted Fran. I give her 'Fuck off!' 'You get used to it,' I said.
That's all I said — I mean, not even
that,
to be honest, just give her a bit of support. And I weren't no different from anyone else. They was all like, 'Remember when
you come in! Stiff as a pole you was, stiff as a pole. Ain't that right, Vern, stiff as a pole. You look
much
better now. You'll get your money! Taken Michael three attempts!'
'That was to increase the rate,' said Michael. 'They didn't turn me down; they applied the wrong rate. They admitted their
error in the end. It was quite a different . . .'
'Whatever!' said Sue. 'All I'm saying, Poppy, is you'll get there. I was like you when I first come.'
'No you weren't!' says like everyone.
'I was,' said Sue. 'I was just like Poppy. Couldn't show what I was feeling inside. That's why I used to slash my arms up.
Always dressed stylish over the top. Nice little jacket, boots, you know! But inside . . . Remember how angry you was! Blowing
off all over the place!'
'She was
awful
to me!' says Astrid Arsewipe. 'I was scared to open my mouth! I was!'
'Brian seen through it,' said Sue the Sticks. 'Right from the start he said to me, "There's a sweet girl in there, Sue!" That's
what he said. "There's a sweet girl in there!"'
'I
seen it,' said Wesley.
'She ain't saying you didn't, is she!' said Astrid, got the hump with Wesley for something. I can't remember what.
It was Poppy decided her next assessment, 'stead of trying to get let out, she'd aim for a decent reference. I warned her:
'You got to be careful,' I said. 'They's weird that way, doctors. You tell them you's mad; that's just when they'll make up
their minds you been cured.' 'Well, good,' she says. 'I'm trying to get out. That'll save me from going through the hassle
of Leech's.' 'I'm just saying,' I said. 'You got to be careful.' It weren't like I didn't warn her.
But that's just the way Poppy Shakespeare was; once she'd made up her mind, do you know what I'm saying . . . Assessment day
morning, in she comes, looked like a ghost she was that fucking pale and rings round her eyes like Marta the Coffin would
kill for. 'No need to overdo it,' said Astrid, give her a nervous once over.
Astrid then Brian then Candid then Dawn, one by one they all gone off and one by one they all come back. 'I feel sick,' said
Tadpole. 'I do; I feel sick.' Gita kept turning her magazine. 'What's up with Rhona?' said Candid Headphones.
'What do you mean what's up with her?' said Sue the Sticks, bit grumpy as well. It was nerves; she weren't normally like that.
'She smiled at me,' says Candid Headphones. 'Rhona the Moaner smiled at me.'
'Bollocks!' said Verna. 'You're so full of crap!'
'Suit yourself!' says Candid and turned her Walkman back up to blasting.
'I thought she seemed friendlier,' said Michael. 'Last Communication Group. We might have to instigate a change of name .
. .'
'She never smiled at
me,'
said Astrid.
'Must be getting it,' Wesley said.
And Omar said something, but you couldn't hear what, on account all the pick 'n' mix tumbling about in his mouth.
I wouldn't call it smiling exactly, the look what Rhona give me. But it's true there was something going on and I ain't just
saying that benefit of hindsight. I know because I said at the time, I said to Omar as he gone in, I said, 'Is it me, or what's
with Rhona?' and you can ask him as well 'cause I'm pretty sure he'd remember.
Poppy thought Rhona was really pissed off. 'With you?' I said. 'Not with me,' she said. 'I don't know,' she said. 'Do you know
what I'm saying, though?' 'Yeah,' I said. 'Maybe.'
We was walking down Abaddon Hill that night. It was so fucking dark you couldn't hardly see nothing. Down at the bottom, Borderline
Road was like the lights round the shore, do you know what I'm saying, like when me, Mum and Shirley gone out in a boat and
I seen a seagull snatch a bit of fish.
' 'Bout time they done something about these lampposts,' I said to Poppy.' 'Fore someone gets killed. It's the whole of the
Darkwoods as well,' I said. 'Must be on the same wiring or something . . . That's what Tony said,' I said.
'I know,' Poppy said. 'You said.'
'They's just upset 'cause of Wesley and Verna,' I said. 'It ain't 'cause of nothing you done . . . Just looking for someone
to blame,' I said. 'Fucking dribblers! Do you know what I'm saying! I said to them, I said, "Don't pick on Poppy. Ain't
her
fault, is it, they got discharged."''
When did you say that?' said Poppy.
'You must of been out in the toilets,' I said. 'I said, "Maybe it's time they kicked
you
out, Astrid. Ain't done you much good has it, being here so long!" ' I seen Poppy smile as she taken a drag. 'Can't hardly
believe I said it!' I said. 'Can you imagine!'
'No,' said Poppy.
' "Maybe it's time they kicked
you
out, Astrid!" Fuckin 'ell!' I said.
'The thing is,' said Poppy. 'What if they're right?'
'Astrid?!' I said. 'But I stuck up for you!'
'Not Astrid,' said Poppy. 'The doctors and Tony and . . .What if I
am
going mad?' she said. 'Then it all starts to make sense, doesn't it? Maybe they're just trying to help me,' she said. 'Maybe
I'm so mad I don't
know
I'm mad. Do you think so, N? Do you think I could be?'
'Don't ask
me,'
I said. 'I'm mad
myself
.'
'It's like I'm in no man's land,' she said. 'I don't know where I belong any more. It was Saffra's parents' evening last night.
I couldn't go in, do you know what I'm saying. We got to the school; I just couldn't go in. Saffra's like "Come on, Mum!"
but I couldn't. I couldn't even go through the gate. I just
couldn't;
I can't describe it, N. I couldn't face seeing everyone; that was part of it, but it was more than that. It was like I was
almost
paralysed.
I
was
paralysed; I couldn't move. I'm just stood there with Saffra tugging my arm and I honestly thought, I'm serious, N, I honestly
thought for a second at least, they'd have to call an ambulance. I mean, what would I have
said
when they came! "I can't move. I'm sorry; I just can't move. I can't go in and I can't go back." Can you imagine! But that's
how it felt.'
'So what happened?' I said.'
Well I sort of snapped out of it,' Poppy said. 'We just went back home. It was awful, though. 'Cause they're all arriving,
like
everyone,
and Saffra's in tears and I'm trying to like pull her. "I can't help it, Saffra, can I!" I said. "I can't fucking help it if
I don't feel well!" I swore!' said Poppy. 'I
never
swear. Not at
Saffra, never,
not
ever,
not
once.
It was awful, and everyone's going past, and you can see what they're thinking, I mean, not that I care, but do you know what
I'm saying, you can tell they all know. And I can't blame them either, I'd have been just the same. Well I don't know though
actually, I
would
have said
something.
But then maybe I wouldn't; you just can't tell. I mean, I've known Kate since antenatal class. Talk about a neurotic mother!
Used to ring me up fifteen times a day. "Do you
really
think he's eating enough?" . . . "Kate," I said. "Chill! If he's hungry, he'll eat." I
know
she saw me; she looked so embarrassed. They all did, N, it was like I'd pissed myself.'
41. How me and Poppy got more and more closer and told each other stuff
With every week passed me and Poppy got more and more closer. I gone round her flat like
all
the time, become like a second home pretty much, especially at weekends with Saffra round Dud's. She even give me my own set
of keys, least she lent me them once when I gone to the shop and I never give them back. She give me
loads
of fucking stuff as well. 'I just want
rid
of it,' she'd say. Like
everything,
her hair straighteners, ten pairs of shoes (they pinched, but still), her juicer she'd never even used, a digital camera,
a stack of CDs;
everything.
'I just want
rid
of it!' Between that and the stuff she'd sold on eBay to pay for Mr Leech, there weren't hardly nothing left in the flat,
except for Saffra's toys of course; she didn't get rid of those. She emptied her wardrobes out as well, three bin-liners full,
for Oxfam she said. 'I just want
rid
of it, N, to be honest.' 'You don't want to waste it on Oxfam!' I said. 'That's good stuff in there!' and I taken them home,
three bin-liners, one each day.
I met Dud as well, just the one time I met him, when he brought Saffra back one Sunday night. We'd been lain on the sofa all
day watching vids and drinking and smoking and chatting and stuff, really nice, when the buzzer gone. 'Shit!' says Poppy.
'What time is it? Fuck! Oh my God, N! Quick! No, you stay in here. Just open the windows!' And she rushed out the room.
Well then I heard the buzzer again and Poppy shouting into the phone. 'Alright, alright! Come on up.' And even while they
was climbing the stairs I could still hear her crashing around in the kitchen and I opened the windows like she said and I
had a look out but I couldn't see nothing 'cept the old people staring opposite and this flashy red car what was parked in
the street below. Then I heard her open the door. 'Saffra! Oh, darling! Give Mummy a hug. Did you have a nice time!' Then
this man starts talking, really posh, I mean
really
posh, make Middle-Class Michael sound practically common. 'Poppy. Look Poppy, we need to talk. This can't go on.' 'Not now,'
says Poppy. 'Not now, alright, Dud; I'll give you a call.' 'Yes, now!' says Dud. 'I'm not going till we've talked. You
say
you'll call . . .' 'I will, Dud. I will. I know . . . Fuck off! You can't just barge in my fuck . . .' and suddenly the door
burst open and this man come in, seen me, and stopped. Fact he pulled hisself up so sharp and short it was like he'd slammed
into a wall.
He was fucking good-looking, that's the first thing I thought. I'd of fancied him, I honestly would, if it weren't for Poppy
was my friend and stuff, which even if they
wasn't
together no more it was still like hands off 'cause that's me. But I did wish I wasn't still in my pyjamas, MAD ones as well,
what I'd nicked off the ward, and I wished it especially when Poppy come through and I seen she was wearing a sweatshirt and
jeans, must of rushed through and changed when he buzzed. It was weird seeing her stood there next to Dud. I don't know what
it was exactly; he weren't dressed smart -just a jumper and jeans, which if anything
Poppy's
was smarter, and he hadn't shaved neither and his shoes was all scuffed - but something about him, I don't know; it's just
Poppy looked different stood alongside. Shabby almost; the whole flat looked shabby in fact.
'This is N,' said Poppy.
And I nodded. 'Alright?'
But for all he was posh he didn't got no manners. A pig got better manners than him. Do you know what I'm saying, no 'Alright?'
or nothing, just turned away, 'Jesus, Poppy!' he said, like I weren't even there at all. Poppy made like I weren't there as
well but she said sorry later on account she been stressed. I might of forgot I was there myself, if it weren't for that Saffra
stood holding her hand and glowering at me like I'd murdered her fucking mother.
If there's one thing used to drive Poppy mad, it was every time she got a letter saying why she'd failed her appeal.
They always said the same, more or less. 'This is a letter about your appeal against our decision not to change our decision
not to award you MAD money. You asked us for an explanation why we made this decision. This decision was based on the information
you provided in your appeal. Your referees may also have been contacted. If you think this decision is wrong, you must write
to us WITHIN ONE MONTH . . .'
'What do they want me to do?!' she'd go. 'Jesus Christ, N! What more do they want!' And the thing is I didn't know what to
say, to be perfectly honest; I honestly didn't.'You just got to keep on appealing,' I said. 'That's something at least. You
can keep on appealing.' She's like, 'What fucking good . . .' 'Alright, Poppy!' I said. 'Don't have a go at
me!'
I said. 'I'm just saying, that's all. You can keep on appealing. It ain't
my
fault,' I said. 'Jesus Christ!' But the thing is although Poppy always said sorry and how she was just stressed and stuff
like that and it
weren't
my fault and I
knew
it weren't, I couldn't help feeling like underneath maybe she reckoned it was. It weren't like I give half a fuck if she
did
to tell you the truth, I mean what can you do. I done my best, do you know what I'm saying, but the fact is I wanted to help
her out 'cause that's just the way I am.
'You rung them up, Poppy?' I says to her. 'They got this number, you can ring them up.'
'Have I rung them up!' she said. 'Only like fifteen hundred times. Do you know what I'm saying, N, you can't get through!'
'You got to keep trying, Poppy,' I said. 'I'm not being funny but most probably they're busy. You just got to keep on trying,'
I said.
'You
try!' she said.
'I will,' I said.
'I've spent fucking hours trying to get through!' she said.
'If you give me the letter, I'll do it,' I said.
'I'm not kidding, N. I mean
hours,
I've spent.'
'Alright!' I said. 'So just give me the letter; I'll do it.'
Well I didn't got no choice after that, I fucking
had
to get through. And I didn't got no phone, just to make life easy. I used to have one till they taken it off me. 'You haven't
paid your bill,' they said. 'I ain't made no
calls,'
I said. 'I been in fucking hospital.' 'You still need to pay your bill,' they said, 'for having the facility. You
could
have made calls.' 'I
couldn't,'
I said. 'I told you, I been in hospital.' Tony offered to sort it out - to be fair to him, that's one thing he done. 'Ah,
fuck it!' I said. 'Let them take it. I can't be arsed.' And I didn't miss it neither to be honest with you. You's better off
not having a phone than having a phone don't ring. The only time my phone ever rung was the phone people ringing me up to
complain I hadn't paid my bill. I used to lift the receiver and listen, just to make sure I still got a tone.
Would of come in handy though, having a phone 'stead of going down the phone box every time I rung up the MAD Assessments.
I must of called them a million times, every morning on my way up the hill and every night on my way back down, when I didn't
go round the Gatehouse with Poppy or else back to her flat which I did half the time, then I'd have to say, 'Go on, I'll catch
you up. I just got to ring my friend a minute.' 'You can ring them from mine,' she'd say. 'Nah,' I'd say. 'You're alright.
You go on ahead.' And she'd smile to herself- don't know what she thought! Must of thought I was having an
affair
or something! - and carry on down Sniff Street. Then I'd sneak the letter out my tracksuit pocket and dial the number and
wait. I must of spent easy a thousand pounds, all my fucking MAD money! But then one day this dribbler was waiting outside,
Indian he was, with a chestful of medals, and he seen me putting the money in and when I come out he said, 'What are you doing!
You need to get a phone card. What are you doing!' And he give me one just like that, for nothing. 'I see you every day,'
he said. 'I call my brother in Hyderabad. Freephone British Gas,' he said, and he stamped his foot and done me a salute.
Whenever you rung the MMA, it was always the same voice answered. 'Thank you for calling MAD Money Appeals Ltd. We are sorry
but all our operators are busy at the moment taking calls from other clients. Your call is being held in a queuing system
and we estimate will be answered in approximately
(pause)
TEN
(pause)
minutes.' Then they give you this music to listen while you waited and it weren't so much that I minded the music; I mean,
take it or leave it, do you know what I'm saying, I ain't got a problem with classical, but when you're stood there watching
your card going down, or feeding in pound coins every two seconds, ain't exactly the most relaxing time for taking in highbrow
culture.
After five minutes she come back to you, told you you got another five minutes then stuck on the music again.
After two and a half she was back again and again after one and a quarter. After that she was counting in seconds. 'Thirty-seven
point FIVE seconds.' 'Eighteen point seven FIVE seconds.' 'Nine point three seven FIVE seconds.' 'Four point six eight seven
FIVE seconds.' With a quick blast of music between each one. 'Two point three four three seven FIVE seconds.' And every time
like faster and faster and higher and higher like Donald Duck, like my mum done with records when I was a kid, used to play
them the wrong speed on purpose to crack me up.
The longer you waited, the longer you thought, if I give up now, do you know what I'm saying, you've just wasted the money
then, innit. You couldn't even tell what she was saying no more; it all merged together in a single shriek, 'Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii',
with no beginning or end or nothing till you hung up the phone or your card run out like three months' benefit later.
So when someone picked up, do you know what I'm saying, it just thrown me a bit on account of I weren't expecting it. I didn't
even wait, like two rings and I'm through. 'MAD Money Appeals,' she said - I almost dropped the fucking phone. 'This is Trish
speaking. How can I help you?'
'Oh?' I said. 'Right.' 'Can I help you?' she said. 'Oh,' I said. 'Right. Gis a sec,' I said. I taken a deep breath and with
my free hand I unzipped my pocket and got out the letter. One time they answer I ain't fucking ready. 'I'm calling,' I said.
'I'm ca . . . I'm ca . . . I'm . . . I'm . . . I'm . . . Ma . . . Ma . . . Mad money claim,' I said. 'OK,' she said. 'Do you
happen to have your National Insurance number?' 'My what?' I said. 'Hang . . . ang . . . ang . . . Jussa sec' I scrunched
up the paper besides the receiver like I'm desperately searching through mountains of crap. 'Just your address will do fine,'
she said. 'Nah,' I said. 'S'OK. Hang . . .ang. . .jussa sec. . .' Then I read her the number from off of the letter. 'OK,'
she said. 'Alright,' she said. 'Come on!' she said. 'I'm sorry, it's this computer; it takes forever.' 'I'm . . . I'm . . .
I . . . I'm nnnervous of phones.' 'Come on!' she said. 'You never know who . . . who . . . who . . .who's lllistening, do
you?' 'Ah!' she said. 'Alright, here we are.' 'I'm pppp . . . pa . . . pa . . . pa . . . paranoid,' I said. 'Oh my God!' she
said. 'Poppy!' she said. 'I don't believe this! Poppy Shakespeare? Is that you!' 'Yeah,' I said. 'Urn . . . um . . . yeah .
. . yeah . . . yeah, it is!' Alright, girl, I'm thinking. Alright, girl, keep cool . . . 'It's me!' she said. 'Trish! You
know, Kilkenny Trish?' I almost hung up then and there, I did. 'Kilkenny Trish from Harbinger Krapwort Harbinger!' Fuck, shit,
bugger, I'm thinking. 'So how are you, Poppy?' says Kilkenny Trish. 'Ay-oh,' I said. 'Yeeooo knayoh!' Gone all la-di-da. Don't
know why, it just happened, born actress or something. 'Are you alright, Poppy?' she said. 'How's Saffra?' 'Little daaaaahrling!'
I said. 'She's a lahv!' 'And how's Dud?' she said. 'Or shouldn't I ask?' 'Ay-oh,' I said. 'Yeeooo knayoh!' 'I do!' She laughed.
I laughed. I'm like what the fuck. 'You know I lost my job,' she said. 'I'm back in Kilkenny now staying with my parents.' 'Ay-oh
deeahh!' I said. 'Semply awwwful for yeoo!' 'You sound really different. Are you
alright?'
she said.
So then of course I had to get back to why I'd rung up in the first place. 'Cause she'd thrown me a bit do you know what I'm
saying, all that la-di-da business, forgot where I was and now I was worried I'd gone and blown it by coming over too normal.
So I give it full throttle, do you know what I'm saying, all about how mental I was, all that slashing my arms up and puking
and shit, and how Al Qaida put a bug in my brain and was playing my thoughts live to the Taliban and they wanted to turn me
into a suicide bomber. And I told her how there was like seven of me. ' "Multiple personalities", that's what they call it,'
I said to her. 'All different, they are, and they talk different too. And some of them sound almost normal,' I said. 'But
they're the most maddest of all.'
I got to admit I thought Poppy be pleased when I told her about what had happened. I run up the hill to the Abaddon, and I
sat there and waited, weren't even half-nine, like puffing and sweating and wheezing away and all buzzed up do you know what
I'm saying to tell her how slippy I'd been. But the thing is with Poppy you just couldn't tell. She was so fucking moody, I'm
not being funny, she was worse than Astrid, she honestly was, and sometimes it did piss me off a bit, like especially when
I'd gone out of my way to help her, do you know what I'm saying, and all I got back was a slap in the face. I used to think
why fucking bother.
'Trish!' she said. 'You're joking, aren't you?'
'Said she used to work with you,' I said.
'I know she used to
work
with me! She was a two-faced bitch, as well,' she said. 'I swear to God she slept with Dud.'
'I told her how mad you was,' I said. 'You should of heard me!' I grinned, couldn't help it.
'I'll never get out of here,' she said.