Chapter Thirty-Six

THIRTY-SIX

When the guard told her there was good news, the first thing Laura thought was that her mother had come to visit, and the second thing she thought was that she wished that her mother was not still the first person she thought of. Of course, it wasn’t that. Her mother had not come to visit, nor had she requested a visit. Her father had; he was due the next day, and that was nice, but she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t, she wanted her mum. Somehow, despite everything, in her darkest moments Laura still wanted her mum.

The guard, who was probably about her mum’s age and, if she thought about it, actually had a mumsier demeanor than her own mum, smiled kindly and said, “It’s not a visitor, darling. Better than that.”

“What?” Laura asked. “What is it?”

The guard wasn’t at liberty to say, but she led Laura out of her room and down one corridor, through the doors, and then down another and another, and all the time Laura was asking, What, what is it, oh, come on. Tell me.

Turned out it was Nervous Guy. “Him?” Laura couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Him?” The guard just laughed, indicated Laura should take a seat, and winked at her as she closed the door.

“Fuck’s sake,” Laura muttered, sitting down at the table.

Nervous Guy said a chirpy good morning. “Good news, Laura!” he announced, taking the seat opposite her.

“Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me.”

And then, would you believe it, it turned out that it was.

Dropping the charges! Laura wanted to dance. She wanted to fling her arms around Nervous Guy, she wanted to kiss him on the mouth, she wanted to rip off all her clothes and run screaming around the remand center. They’re dropping the charges. They’re dropping the fucking charges!

She managed to control herself, but she did scramble to her feet, yelping like a puppy, “I can go? I can just go?”

“Yes!” Nervous Guy looked almost as relieved as she was. “Well, no. I mean, not right away. There’s paperwork. There will be some forms I’ll need you to sign and . . . Is there anyone you’d like me to call? Someone you’d like to come and pick you up?”

Her mother. No, not her mother. Her father. But that would mean a confrontation with Deidre; that would kill her buzz stone dead. It was pathetic, really, when you thought about it; she’d no one, no one at all.

“Could you call my friend Irene?” she heard herself ask.

“Irene?” He readied his pen. “And she’s . . . a family member, is she? Or a friend?”

“She’s my best mate,” Laura said.

No, it wasn’t like flying at all, actually, it was like her insides had been knotted up, for ages and ages, weeks and months and years, and then all of a sudden, someone had come along and unpicked the knots, and everything had been able to unravel, and the hardness in her belly was gone, the fire dampened down, the cramp and ache, the tortured, twisted feeling, it was gone, and finally—finally!—she could stand up straight! She could stand up straight, shoulders back, boobs out, she could breathe. She could fill her lungs. She could sing, if she wanted to, she could sing.

There was Laura, singing, Well I told you I loved you, now what more can I do?

The nice guard told her to go to her room and get her things together, then go up to the canteen and have some lunch because it would probably be a while before they had all the paperwork sorted and she was bound to be starving and she’d have nothing in when she got home, would she? The knots started to retie themselves, but Laura pulled herself up straighter still, she stretched her arms right up over her head, she quickened her pace.

Told you I loved you, you beat my heart black and blue.

There was Laura, smiling to herself, head buzzing and skin tingling, skipping along, tripping along toward her room when, from the opposite direction, came a big girl with a nose ring who, three days ago in the canteen, apropos of nothing, had called her a fucking ugly gimp cunt and told her she was going to cut her face next time she saw her.

Told you I loved you, now what more can I do?

The big girl hadn’t seen Laura yet; she was talking to her friend, smaller but squat, powerful-looking, not one you’d mess with either.

Do you want me to lay down and die for you?

There was Laura, singing, but keeping her head down all the while, chin to chest, don’t look up, don’t catch her eye, whatever you do, don’t catch her eye. The big girl was getting closer, she was laughing at something her squat friend was saying, making a noise like a drain, exactly like a drain, and now there was Laura, laughing too, head still down but laughing, unable to stop herself because it was funny, it was just plain funny, undeniably funny, that drainlike sound coming from the girl’s wide ugly mouth.

There was Laura, her head wasn’t down anymore, it was up, she saw the big girl’s smile turn into a snarl, heard her friend say what the fuck, and there was Laura, laughing like a loon, like a bell, like a swarm of flies.

There was Laura, her head smacking the linoleum floor. There was Laura, screaming in agony as a boot slammed down on her hand, there was Laura, struggling for breath, as the big girl knelt on her chest.

Here I am here I am here I am.

There she was.