The Debt & the Doormat (8 page)

‘Yeah, cool.’

*                            *                            *

When she’s gone I make a big bowl of spaghetti bolognaise.  If there's one thing I’m sure will always cheer me up, it's a plate load of carbs and it’s easy enough for even me to make.  I always end up making enough to last me the week.  Then I usually eat most of it in one sitting, spending the rest of the night crying, disgusted at what a beast I am.  I really must ask Izzy what the deal is with buying food and stop stealing theirs in the hope that they won't notice. 

I’ve just put the garlic bread in the oven when my mobile rings.  I run to get it and my spirit picks up when I see that it's Jazz.  I’ve got so much to tell her. 

‘Hiya love,’ I sing down the phone.

‘Disaster!  I need your help urgently.  Can you come round?’  Her serious tone shocks me. 

‘Yeah, but why?  What's wrong?’

‘Oh Pops,’ she says, her voice breaking slightly.

She’s been in a car crash.  No, worse, she’s set my flat on fire. 

‘What??’

I hear her take a deep breath.

‘I need to get the morning after pill.’

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

The tube is a nightmare.  Trust Jazz to have an emergency at rush hour.  And trust me to always find the sweatiest, most obese people to be squeezed between.  When I finally get to the flat I find her sitting at the kitchen table in my track suit bottoms, a half empty bottle of wine beside her.  This must be bad.  She never wears tracksuit bottoms. 

‘Tell me everything.’ I demand as soon as I take my coat off.

‘Oh it's such a fucking mess.’  She drains her glass.  There’s smudged mascara under her red rimmed eyes, indicating she’s been crying.  ‘Have you got trainers on?’ she asks, suddenly staring disapprovingly at my feet. 

‘Yes, but TELL me.  What happened?’

‘They look terrible.  I thought I told you to wear the shoes today?’

How can she pick on my shoes in the middle of an emergency?

‘I did and they gave me fucking blisters!  Now tell me what the fuck happened?’

‘Ok, ok,’ she waves her hands in the air.  She takes a deep breath.  ‘I slept with Jake.  You know, the builder from last night,’ she explains while pouring herself another glass.

‘Against my orders,’ I say, my jaw clenching in anger.  If she would have just listened to me she wouldn’t be in this mess.

‘Anyway, it split and I told him no worries as I’d get the morning after pill.  But then I overslept and had to get to work.  I was still half an hour late on my first day and they told me I’d have to work through my lunch to make up the time.  So I didn’t have a chance.’

‘I’m surprised they didn’t fire you on the spot!  But what about after work?  Why didn’t you just go straight to a chemist on the way home?’

‘I did.  I went into one and ended up buying loads of random crap, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to ask for it.’

‘Work up the courage?  You’re a grown woman for God’s sake!’

‘
Exactly
.  That’s exactly my point.  If I was a stupid teenager then it would be better, but I’m a grown woman.  I should have known better and I know that's what they’ll say to me.  Plus all the women in there are always bitches.’

‘They’re not bitches.’  But I know what she means.  They do seem to cast their eyes over your purchases and judge you.  God forbid I buy thrush cream. 

‘It’s fine anyway,’ I say, trying to remain calm.  ‘It might have only split when he pulled out.  You may be ok, but either way we’re better setting off now for a chemist.’

I glance nervously at my watch as Jazz bites her lip, a big fat tear trickling down her face.  I know that look.  She needs to tell me something but she’s afraid of how I’ll react.  We really don't have time for her to be keeping secrets.

I sigh heavily and look her straight in the eye. 

‘Just tell me.’ 

‘Ok,’ she gulps.  ‘I lied.  It didn’t split.  We just didn’t have any condoms and got caught up in the moment.’

‘What?  And this is the guy you were supposed to be resisting on my orders?’ I can't help but add.

‘See, right there!  That's why I almost didn’t tell you.  You always go into this judgemental, I told you so, attitude.  For once, could you just not ask any questions and help me?’

Now I feel awful.  Maybe I am a massive judgemental bitch and I don't even realise it.  It must be years of my mum doing it to me.  God, please don't say I’m turning into her.

‘Ok, I’m sorry.’  I wipe a tear away from her face.

‘It’s fine.  I know you don't mean it.  It's just that....well, I feel like such a massive failure already.  I just don't need my best friend thinking that of me too.’

‘I know I’m a bitch, but I don't think you’re a failure!’  I bring her into an awkward half hug.  ‘Anyway, come on, get your coat.  It's 6.30.  We need to find a chemist that's still open.’

‘Ok.’  She smiles and drains her glass.

‘I wouldn’t worry too much anyway.  I mean, it would be just plain luck to get pregnant from one time, even for you.’

‘Actually...it was three times.’

Ok, three times makes it a bit scarier.  We walk quickly to the local chemist, all the while my blisters still stinging like hell.  I spot the neon OPEN light glowing through the window and feel myself start to relax.  Thank God.

‘We’re just closing up girls,’ the lady behind the till yells as we enter.

‘Ok, we just need one thing,’ I shout back smiling insistently.

‘Poppy?  Is that you?’ 

I turn around to find my Mum’s friend Helen grinning at me with lipstick on her teeth. 

‘Helen!  Hi!’ I exclaim, not quite believing our bad luck. 

‘How are you?  Your Mum says you’re keeping well and still have that great job in the City.’

Typical mum, talking me up.   I wouldn’t be surprised if she told her I was the CEO, not his assistant.

‘Yeah, all good thanks, but we really must get going.  You can go first,’ I offer, watching Jazz’s anxious expression.

‘Oh no dear, after you.  I know what you busy City girls are like.’

‘No, no, I insist.  Please, after you.’  I almost push her forward with my arms.

‘Now listen here love,’ she says insistently,  ‘I couldn’t possibly take your place.  Like I said, I know how busy you are.’  She looks at me expectantly and I realise I’d look crazy if I refused again. 

I exchange a glance with Jazz, it now obvious we can't ask for the morning after pill with her here.  At the very least my Mum would know and at worse so would the whole of St Albans. 

She smiles wildly, still insistent that I take her up on her offer. 

‘Ok thanks,’ I say through gritted teeth.  I walk slowly to the woman behind the till who looks annoyed that we’re taking so long to leave her shop.

‘What can I get you?’ she asks eagerly looking from my face to Jazz’s. 

‘Um...just some...aspirin please.’

*
                            *                            *

As we walk through the high street nothing but closed signs greet us.  We instinctively walk towards the tube station, the nerves taking hold of both of us.  Jazz has started chewing her nails and my own hands are shaking as I twirl my hair frantically.  Always a bad sign.  I twirled it so much during my Uni exams that I almost got a bald patch on one side and my hairdresser told me I’d have to stop or I’d go completely bald. 

Ok, don’t panic – it's only ten to seven.  We still have plenty of time.  I take a slow deep breath and try and get my nerves under control.  I’m sure that loads of chemists are still open.

‘Where are we going?’ Jazz asks stopping in her tracks.

‘I don't know.  Let’s just get the train back towards the house and I’m sure we’ll find one near there.  The closer into London I think.  You know what they say, the City that never sleeps.’  I laugh nervously. 

‘Do you actually
know
one there?’ she asks narrowing her eyes at me.

‘Yeah, of course,’ I say avoiding her gaze as I feel my insides clenching.

*                            *                            *

As we walk up Shepherd’s Bush high street I’m feeling a little more optimistic.  We’re going to find a chemist and this silly nightmare will be over.  We’ll laugh about this soon enough.  I notice a neon green cross in the distance and smile, now calm and confident that we’ll get this sorted.  We head towards it, but soon our fast walking turns into a light run and before we know it we’re sprinting at full speed.  Perhaps I’m not as confident as I’m telling myself.   

We collapse over once we’re outside, panting and sweating like athletic runners.  We really should take an aerobics class. 

‘Thank God,’ Jazz says to me, between breaths.

‘I know.’ I pant back.  ‘Come on.’  I grab her hand and open the door.

As we walk in the lights suddenly flick off and a young girl comes barging into us.

‘Sorry ladies, but the shop is now closed.’  She puts her arms up wide and pushes us out.

‘No!  We just need one thing.’  I try to push against her with all of my strength.

‘I’m afraid not.  We will however be back open tomorrow morning at 09.00.’

‘
Please
,’ Jazz begs putting on her best puppy eyes. 

But the woman doesn’t care.  Before we know it we’re back on the street and she’s locking up the doors. 

‘Please,’ Jazz pleads.  ‘You don't understand, this is life or death.’

‘I’m sure it is madam, but I’m afraid that's not my problem,’ she says with a snarl.  I can't believe the rudeness.

‘Well, I’ll be writing to your supervisor,’ I say to her back as she walks off.  She really doesn’t care.  ‘Minimum wage bitch!’ I shout out, despite myself. 

A few people on the street turn back to stare at me disgusted, but not her.  She’s already getting on a bus and going home.

‘Oh my God,’ Jazz says, bursting into hysterical tears.  ‘It's hopeless.  I’m going to be a single mum and I’ll have to live in a crumby flat and live on benefits.  My life is over.’ 

She slumps against the shop window and sits down on the floor with her head in her hands.  I open my mouth to tell her that she’s over-reacting, that it’ll all work out perfectly, but the truth is that I don't know if it will.  I start racking my brains but I can't think of one chemist open past seven o’clock on a Tuesday night.  What the hell are we going to do? 

‘Drink?’

I drag her to the nearest pub and plonk her down on a tired looking bar stool. 

‘Two beers please,’ I tell the heavily tattooed barman.

What the hell is this place?  The barman looks like he just escaped from prison, but the only few customers in here seem to be old men nursing a bitter and playing dominoes.  The place stinks of smoke, and I wonder if this is the kind of place where they make their own rules.  Maybe this is one of those pubs you hear about on programmes like ‘Britain’s Worst Pubs’ where they have boxing matches and fight dogs.   

‘Is your friend alright, love?’ the barman asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

‘Yeah, why?’ I ask, turning round to see what he’s talking about. 

Oh dear.  Jazz is crying hysterically, seeming to be telling a balding man next to her everything.  I swoop back and try to disengage her from the conversation as he offers her a dirty old handkerchief.

‘Sorry.  She’s fine, honestly,’ I say turning my back on him.

‘Well, there is that Boots chemist down by Pearl Cross.  I’m pretty sure that's a 24 hour one.  Because of the area, you see.  Full of druggies and hookers,’ her bald man says.

‘Oh my God, really?’ I shout as I turn round to face him, as excited as a school girl.

‘Yeah, last time I checked.’

*
                            *                            *

We run from the tube onto Pearl Cross high street, but stop dead in our tracks when we take in the view.  Wow, that guy was right.  This place is a shit hole.  Boarded up warehouses line the streets, as do hookers dressed in PVC.  The air stinks of sewage.  A quick stab of fear hits my chest.  I grab hold of Jazz’s hand to slow her down, and clutch on a bit tighter to my handbag. 

‘Oh my God, this place is scary.’ I whisper to her as we pass a crowd of guys with their hoods up.  I mean, why would they have their hoods up unless they wanted to mug us?

‘It’s fine,’ she says confidently, but her eyes say she’s just as scared as me.

‘Where is this bloody chemist?’ I hiss at her.

‘I don't know.  Let’s ask her.’  Before I can stop her she walks over to a woman wearing a short strappy leopard print dress and red knee high PVC boots. 

‘No!  Jazz!’ I whisper running after her, scared to be left alone for a second.  It seems to be getting darker. 

‘Excuse me, but do you know where the all night chemist is?’

The woman smiles, exposing buck teeth with red lipstick on. 

‘Yeah, it's down this road.  Just keep goin’ for ‘bout another mile.  But be careful.  You girls look classy and that means money round ‘ere.  Jus’ keep your wits about ya.’    

My stomach curdles at the thought and I’m suddenly ill with panic.

‘Ok thanks,’ I smile.  Who’d have known it, a nice hooker.

‘See,’ Jazz whispers proudly.

We carry on down the street as instructed; trying to ignore the odd looks we’re receiving.  I take to looking down at the pavement, counting each pave block to try and take my mind off the danger surrounding us.  Any minute now I’m expecting to be held up at gun point. 

When we finally get to the chemist (83 steps later), we’re relieved to find it wasn’t a lie and it is open.  There’s a little hatch where you can ask for things, like in a petrol station.  Jazz runs over and practically shouts that she wants the morning after pill, all previous embarrassment gone.  The man behind the counter doesn’t seem to flinch, clearly used to this kind of erratic behaviour.  He gives her two pills; one to be taken now and one to be taken tomorrow.  She swallows it down without water.