chapter seven

    "Hi!"
 
   Tom walked into the kitchen and smiled as he passed her to fill the kettle. Lyndsey was perched again in her familiar position nibbling a sandwich in the weak, late afternoon light.

   "You’re back late…"

   The words came rushing to her lips and almost tumbled out; but she swallowed and hastily thought of something else to say. Something that wouldn’t tell him instantly what she had been thinking about non-stop since he had left the squat yesterday evening.

   "You okay?" She hit on a line neutrally and lamely.

   "Oh yeah, good – getting better." He was jovial and light as he splashed about in the sink. He turned to face her. "And you? Did you sleep okay?"

   "Can sleep without you, y’know." She was immediately defensive.

   "I'm sure you can. Hope it was more wholesome than mine though – only fell down at seven this morning." He was oblivious and happy.

   "You must be knackered."

   "No, I'm good – I said." He grinned at her and then continued preparing his drink. She bored her eyes into the back of his head, but determinedly pursed up her lips.

   Just a few uneventful details she heard from him later. Drink, drugs, chat and music. Old friends he hadn’t seen for a while. Some female. Yeah, Jon and Santa were there – still there. No sign of Helen though…

   "There’s a few more of ‘em coming up tomorrow – up from London." Tom spoke to her later while they were alone in the lounge together. "They’ll be staying here too, it should be good, probably another party too." He looked down at her suddenly raised head, "You up for it too?"
   "Yeah, sure."

   She meant it, she was sure. And it was tomorrow night too – plenty of time to build herself up to it. But why this disinterest, this inclination toward peace, quiet and no outside intrusions..? This unstoppable slide to the state she had been in before – before him. She concentrated, made an effort and tried to switch off and away from her tumbling mind.

   "How many people then? She injected her voice with enthusiasm and managed to sound like she meant it.

   "Oh… about twenty, maybe more. Should be a good night. Drink, gear, lots of people." He turned to roll a cigarette.

   She turned and stared into the middle distance and then decided to concentrate on the moment instead of thinking and building worries. She breathed out, relaxed and enjoyed the closeness of his lazy body as he sat trying to blow smoke rings around the lounge. Watching him fail miserably, she laughed, lightened up and joined him in his activity, forgetting her thoughts.

   Lyndsey was quite light headed as she bobbed and weaved her way along Argyle Street. In and out of the many clothes shops, picking up, trying on, then throwing them back onto racks. She was aware they wouldn’t fit, wouldn’t look good on her and no way could she afford them, but she tripped from one shop to the next immersed in her activity and enjoying the afternoon.

   Tonight was the night of the party and many more than twenty were expected. There was plenty of drink and drugs around, the music was already loud and Santa had been stoned since before breakfast. Everyone was up for it and Lyndsey intended to be no exception. So out to find a good mood – make herself look nice, get some new clothes.

   She already had the skirt, tights and boots; she just had a top and a necklace in mind that would go well with them. And here she was, alone but choosing, coveting, buying, sampling and thoroughly enjoying herself.

   "Lyndsey!"

   She jumped violently, the shouted word of her name jolting her out of her dream world. She looked up and saw Jill stood with a friend near some benches in the centre of the pedestrianised street. Jill waved and Lyndsey smiling shyly, walked over towards them.

   "Hi, okay?"

   "Oh fine – are you?" Hey this is Susan." Jill motioned towards her blankly staring friend and they hello-ed vacantly.

   "What are you up to?" Jill looked towards the bags she was carrying.
"Oh just a bit of shopping y’know. Almost finished, nearly ready to go back to the flat."

   "Well come with us first – we’re just away for a coffee, c’mon." Jill enthusiastically jumped up pulling Susan with her.

   "Where to – not Dino’s again?" Susan spoke for the first time, emptily and expressionless.

   "Oh, I don’t know. Coming Lyndsey?" Jill was grinning and happy, verging on giddy.

   "Yeah – sure." She spoke with exaggerated jollity, anxious not to be anti-social, and ready to smile and laugh. Happiness like Jill’s was her intended mood as they trooped away toward the St Enoch Centre.

   "So anyway she said…and he said…so she did…and he just…"

   Jill was ensconced telling a gossipy tale to Susan. Lyndsey knowing nothing of what she was saying was politely quiet and staring into space, watching the hurrying bodies on the escalators, the school kids loitering, the pubescent girls tarting, the pre-pubescent boys posturing and posing.

   Jill noticed her quietness and turned to her. "Sorry Lyndsey – neglecting you. Just talking about a ‘mutual friend’ – an old one." She looked archly at Susan who laughed drily for the first time. "So how are you doll, okay?"

   "Mmm," she complied again in response. "Yeah, I'm good."

   "And how’s you and Tom?" Jill looked openly at Lyndsey.

   "Oh good, good." Lyndsey smiled and sat back casually to try to show her ease and relaxment.

   "Tom?" Susan spoke, not to Lyndsey, but to Jill. "Do you mean Tom McCann?"

   "Yeah, they’ve been together for a few weeks now, haven’t you dear?" Jill looked toward the shy, smiling face of Lyndsey.

   "You and him get on okay?" Susan spoke for the first time directly to Lyndsey.

   "Err – yeah, it’s good."
 
   There was a silence. Lyndsey spoke again feeling all eyes on her. "We went to Portree the other day."

   "Where?" Susan’s face was totally puzzled and she looked over at Jill.

   Jill looked on blankly, then suddenly up at Lyndsey. "Where… Oh do you mean up north – on Skye?"

   "Aye, that’s right." Lyndsey was glad of the recognition of her destination.

   "How was it?" Jill asked politely whilst Susan looked on bemusedly.

   "Oh really nice. A really beautiful place and through some wild, wonderful scenery. So…"

   "And did you take him with you?" Susan broke in roughly.

   "Err yeah – ‘course. We had a nice time." Lyndsey spoke more and more defensively, rather afraid of the hard face of the girl opposite. 

   The lined face of Susan looked much older and more jaded than it’s twenty-eight years should. Lyndsey found herself answering her questions and thinking of answers rather than merely replying naturally.

   Susan laughed again drily. "A nice time? So you two‘re sleeping together?" She cut straight to the chase, uninterested in polite small talk.

   Lyndsey’s face coloured and her smile vanished. "Yeah…" she murmured apprehensively and embarrassedly.

   "And how long have you known McCann?" Susan’s manner was getting more and more aggressive as she could see Lyndsey recoil and become more defensive.

   "Hold on – give her a chance!" Jill broke in hastily, seeing Lyndsey’s discomfort. "Herself and Tom are having a happy time, aren’t you pet?" She looked over smiling at Lyndsey supportedly.

   "Yes – we’re just having fun, I said. What’s the fuss?" Lyndsey spoke defensively and tossing up the question.

   Susan looked on and exhaled her cigarette smoke. "Well be happy then, maybe he is for now. But don’t wait around for him, and you shouldn’t be shopping for him either." She pushed her feet toward the bags on the floor belonging to Lyndsey, the eyes of whom were widening in shock at being confronted so, but Susan hurtled on.

   "McCann is okay – but he’s his own man, with his own…"

   "Sssshh..!" Jill furiously nudged Susan seeing Lyndsey’s face becoming more and more upset. "Ignore her Lyndsey, she’s a little bitter and rather a realist. Not very romantic or…"

   "What do you mean – what do you know about Tom?" Lyndsey ignored Jill totally as she nervously and furiously stared at Susan.
 
   Her questioner looked a little shaken as she realised she had perhaps gone a little far and disturbed the girl overmuch. "I said he’s okay. But he’s just… his own man. Follows what he wants to do, does his own thing – a typical man."

   "Don’t give me your cynicism and bitterness – I don’t need it. Tom loves me…" Lyndsey’s voice rose as she spoke impulsively and she instantly regretted it. But too late.

   She rose to her feet and made ready to leave, "I'm sorry to argue with you, but I don’t want to listen to you…" She trailed off embarrassed and left the sentence hanging. Leaving she turned to Jill’s uncomfortable and embarrassed face. "Sorry love for making a scene…got more shopping to do."

   "Lyndsey left quickly without looking back. Rounding a couple of corners she found the toilets she had been looking for, inside quick, then after locking the door she collapsed inside. Barriers down, feelings out, but behind closed doors away from the rest of the world.

   She felt mocked, judged and hurt; the tears began to run slowly. Then she realised she had left her purchases behind under the table and she disintegrated into streams and floods of tears.

   She had begun to break up.

Alone, alone but not at home. In the opposite direction to the squat she found herself walking along the Broomielaw next to the Clyde on the walkway absently searching the grey cloudy waters for answers and questions. After walking as far as she could, she turned back near the Kingston Bridge and re-traced her steps. Back home, back to what? Thinking again of… just other people. Interacting and talking with her, making her react and think more…

   She realised she was shaking still, so instead of returning to the squat, she lingered and put off that moment when she would need to be with others again. She diverted towards the Green and seated herself on a lonely seat in the emptying, darkening park, watching the street-lights of the Gorbals over the river assert their glow amid the gathering gloom.

   And still one thought in her mind as she tried to relax. One face, one worry, or one face giving her many worries for one heavy heart. She sighed as she finished one cigarette and eagerly began another. Long audible breathe out.

   Who else could torture herself as ably and precisely, as thoroughly and relentlessly as she? She was her own worst enemy, she knew this even though the main thing – the one truth she did know about herself, was that she didn’t know herself.

   Lyndsey was steadier now, no more shakes and the tears had long since dried up. Susan’s words hadn’t been particularly harsh, nasty or even personally perceptive of Tom. Just vaguely derogatory. But any negative or back-handed words against Tom… Well she would run anyone through with her mouth, and probably her fists too if events went too far and if anyone dared to speak or even suggest them.

   She was coldly aware now that she was calm again, that at the drop of a word or look she was immediately on her feet. Shouting and jabbing away, immaturely attempting to defend and praise his name and to praise his love for her. Even when she just had no need to and would only cause people to doubt her words and realise her neuroses.
The subject of him had her so immersed that it was difficult for her in the midst of conversation to realise others weren’t thinking like her, that others weren’t analysing and judging her’s and Tom’s relationship; that others weren’t thinking, deciding and arriving at the same conclusions as she…

   That he didn’t feel the same for her as she did for him.

   That he was probably already looking through to the other side, and to life after her while she couldn’t and didn’t want to conceive of such a life existing.

   That her fumbling and desperate actions to keep him were failing, failing…

   But if anyone was to merely hint, even accidentally at any of the above she was up and loud so fast to defend and assert that which she didn’t actually believe. And her actions were embarrassedly transparent and obvious.

   She exhaled a long stream of smoke again. There was only one thing she was going to achieve by following her spirit and feelings and lashing out at those she believed were insulting he who was special in her world. And that was to see and manufacture a premature end to that world and dream, as he departed hastily - as hastily as the words that flew wantonly from her mouth.

   She finished her cigarette and sat a little more, alone on her bench in the increasing darkness. But at least she was now settled, more ready for other people and their conversations. She had a guard of her tongue and a guard against dark thoughts and moods. She was going to be ready for this party tonight and she was going to enjoy herself and smile.

Back at the squat she went straight into hers and Tom’s room. And found her shopping bags that she had left behind hastily with Jill and Susan that afternoon. Very much relieved, she leaned over to take out the clothes, but then she jumped as she found a note attached.

   The little drawn smiley face made her do the same, and so she crossed the floor to the radio to turn it on while she changed and got ready. Something dancey, something up – something to cheer her and make her ready for tonight. She couldn’t say she was looking forward to the party ahead, but with a good attitude and a smile, whilst looking and feeling good in her new clothes she’d get through it fine and maybe, just maybe enjoy herself.

   Smoky, noisy and cramped. Loud heavy beats on the sound system. Lots of people, all shades and shapes of humanity, and most unfamiliar to Lyndsey. All seemingly older too, with easy, confident attitudes. All leaning, sitting, chatting, smoking and laughing.
She hung in close to Tom; quiet but alert and with a painted-on soft smile. She was a little embarrassed when at first she saw Jill, then later Susan; but there was no scene – not even any words. Jill merely squeezed her arm affectionately and smiled as she passed. Susan turned away and pointedly ignored her, probably embarrassed too.

   Who else was there?

   A stoned and reclining Santa, lying amidst the crowd of bodies near the centre of the room. Jon earnestly talking with a bunch of students away near the window. Ian, Helen’s gay friend, talking loudly, if anyone could hear him above the dense music, to a companion who, stereotypically, looked as if he shared his friend’s leanings. Helen was sat with a group of friends talking and laughing, seemingly all at the same time. She caught Lyndsey’s eye and beckoned her over, but the girl declined.

   Again Helen asked her to come over and enjoy herself with them, rather than doggedly and quietly sitting with Tom, but again she shyly but surely refused. And why? Tom was getting more and more stoned, and deeper and deeper into conversation with a group nearby, and none of their exchanges were involving Lyndsey; when she tried to do so she felt as though she was intruding. So why was she excluding herself from enjoying herself away from him, keeping herself from taking pleasure in others company, the music and the gathering itself? Why was she keeping close by him and keeping an eye on his actions?

   Because when you are not totally sure of that other person’s love and attention, of that person’s desire and interest, then you are consumed, occupied and terrified of where it and they are.

   A little insecurity = a lot of jealousy...

   But Tom was merely deep in conversation just now. Rather stoned and a little distant to her, but not irritated or distracted by her presence. But he wanted her to lighten up more and enjoy herself, meet other people and stop being so quiet and serious, stop being only interested in where he was so that she could sit by mutely smiling with a glass in her hand.

   Mid-late evening, much more of the night to go yet, but it was going so slowly, unsurprisingly, for Lyndsey. And this party was only growing and becoming larger, spreading out into all the other rooms in the flat, and further outside onto the landing and away into the other friendly squats and flats. Rather than merely a house party, this was more a tenement party. Lyndsey was just one of so many people present, but she must have been one of the most sober and quiet.

   And then…

   God what was it? Almost like she was something floating in the air, the whole room began to lift and revolve. Everybody seemed to be smiling, the music was soaring and trancing, and she felt this in each part of her. She stood up for the first time since entering the room and after walking a few steps she somehow and suddenly found herself in easy conversation with total strangers.

   She was laughing and shouting suddenly and living in the here and now, instead of observing the situations around her she was participating in them. Whatever was in her was lifting and pulling her up. Her shyness and lack of self-confidence had gone; her staid internal dialogue had become expansive and external. Where she had been demure and retiring she suddenly found openness and enthusiasm, planning and scrutiny had become randomness and impulse.

   And where she had been mindful and observant of Tom, she now switched off and away from him as she laughed and enjoyed herself fully for the first time since entering the room, indeed for the first time in days. She was totally enjoying the situation, the people and herself.
If she herself was unaware though, then those immediately around Lyndsey were pretty sure and amused by the reason for this suddenly loud, happy and careering girl. Whatever it was that had been dropped and mixed into her drink was now in her head and blood; she had never been here before and as yet didn’t recognise its symptoms or try to shy away from its obvious presses and urges.

   So if it made her think of smiling she smiled. Talk? Yeah, I'll talk – and talk and talk. Excitable and happy? Yeah – for sure!

   How long like this? God…who knows? But the hours flowed by as she circulated, laughed and became more and more bombed. Not recognising and knowing her state, she continued to drink alcohol and so continued to dehydrate, and so contribute to her heightened mania. Eventually she was beginning to get tenser and quicker as she started to notice the second looks she was getting from most of those around her, but she was not, even yet, alert to herself.

   Away she spun, away to the toilet, then into the kitchen and into more conversation. Out into the hallway she followed the group she had latched onto then away down the corridor. Out on the landing and outside the open door of another flat she could see a couple sitting quietly together. Talking and smoking, minding their own business. She could see one side of the girl – a pretty eager face enjoying her friend’s conversation, and she could see the back of the guy – dark haired, long tresses, looking just like…

   Tom – the face, the thoughts, the paranoia. All came back to her suddenly in a rush. For fucks sake, how long had it been since she had last seen him?

   Her first thoughts of course were the guy and the girl, but as she tumbled towards them they looked up startled and she realised her mistake.

   "What’s up? What are you…?”

   "Sorry…I…"

   She turned reeling and suddenly she felt very ill. The waves of happiness and laughter washing all over her had died; she abruptly felt drunk, very uncomfortably high and way out of control. The maladjustment of her feelings and emotions were all out of line and misplaced, and now she was starting as she realised his absence and most of all, the ‘lost hours’ that she couldn’t account for.

   Where was he? Who was he with? What was he doing?

   Down the hallway like a lame, lumbering horse, and through the doorway; she fell into the lounge almost knocking people over and out of the way – making them need to avoid her as she approached rapidly.

   Tom…Tom…Tom...Tom…

   She swept the room standing motionless, her head turning, and her eyes wide and searching.

   "Are you okay pet?"

   "What’s wrong dear?"

   "Lyndsey – what’s the matter?"

   But she ignored the questions and the bemused, concerned attention she was suddenly receiving. One thought, one mission, one person…

   Tom…Tom…Tom…Tom…

   Helen came over to where she was stood perspiring and blinking. "Are you looking for Tom?"

   "Yeah" She panted out the word.

   "Calm down. Relax. He’s in another part of the building, in one of the other flats I think." Helen was concerned as she looked at Lyndsey’s racing face, and at her current mood plainly showing and running through her wide eyes.

   "Where? With who?" Lyndsey spoke in breaths, almost shouting.

   "Nearby. Now come here and sit down." Helen put her arm around Lyndsey, but the girl broke free, spinning on her heel.

   "Who with…With who…Who with…" Out of her mouth she was repeating a mantra of her own insecurity. All good feeling and happiness had poured away, and now random negativity and paranoid thoughts were filling her up. Helen was sent staggering backwards as Lyndsey propelled herself forward out of the front room.

   Through the door, down the hallway and onto the landing she moved at great speed. And above the pumping bass of the loud, loud music could be heard Lyndsey’s maniacal, shouting, screaming cries.

   "Tom! Tom! Tom! Tom!.."

   Banging on doors, looking and shouting out of windows. Doors were opened roughly, the angry and surprised asking her what her problem was – why the shouting and anxiety? They found out as she ignored them and continued screaming for her man.

   "Tom! Tom! Tom! Tom!.."

   "Tom McCann? He’s in here…" Finally, a bearded man sat outside another filthy looking squat spoke to her and answered her anguished question. She didn’t acknowledge him but tumbled, staggering past and lurched through the crumbling doorway.

   This squat was much filthier than theirs; dangerous looking with bare brickwork and holes apparent in the walls and roof. And so very dark. As she ran headlong down the dank hallway, she tripped and fell headlong over a pile of bricks scattered across the floor. She rolled over trying to find her feet and groaned loudly at the pains shooting up from her bleeding shin, but she was suddenly quieter than she had been for a while. Then she heard voices coming from a room further along the corridor – voices and laughter. Lyndsey was up, away and felt herself go; no composure, no taking of breath, no thoughts other than one direction of mind…

   …Tom…Tom…Tom…Tom.

   Oddly and strangely, the room was reminiscent of the scene she had seen on that first afternoon when she had arrived here to her bolthole – to her haven. The room was dull, lit by burning down candles; there were drapes over the metal boards over the windows. Graffiti and pictures over all the walls that were bare to naked brickwork. But no furniture in this room, just rugs and old carpets on the floor, insulating the inhabitants from the cold of the bare stone surface. And the dog too, jumping up and barking at her; Jock was angry at this sudden disturbance to the peace and ambience of the room.

   But Lyndsey ignored the dog and screwing up her eyes, looked beyond its head to decipher what she could see of the reclining bodies in the gloom.

   Four were sat close together. One lying full out, smoking and unconnected physically to the others – female. One sat up, conversation faltering as they all looked up startled at the sudden intrusion – male. Another, again lied out, laughter expiring as she turned the head that was resting on the other man’s knees to face the sudden noisy entrant – female. And the other man, also lying down, talking and smoking with a melting smile – Tom…

   Everyone had stretched out as the evening had moved on. The twenty or so anticipated had trebled, and the small squat had not nearly been large enough. And so the whole tenement block was alive with music, laughter, conversation, sex, drugs and people.

   Even during the bright and sober daylight hours the block was unnerving and dark, with seedy squats and corridors running off everywhere. And littered also everywhere were people sat and huddled around – drinking, smoking, chatting. The thumping bass and noise of the competing sound systems sounded up toward the traffic of the London Road and attracted the aimless hangers-on drawn to the noise and disturbance.

   So much money changing hands as the dealers offered a quick entrance for those who wanted to join in rapidly. Those inside swarmed everywhere, into all the rooms – nowhere was off limits or out of the party. So much more was out of control other than just Lyndsey.

   She would remember little later; occasionally parts of her memory would surface and she would reel, painfully remembering. But the mind is sometimes merciful – sometimes she forgets some of the memories we would rather lose.

   The girl resting her head on Tom’s knees wouldn’t forget the wild girl ripping her pullover, as she violently dragged her off the suddenly shouting and jolted body of Tom though. Nor would she forget Lyndsey’s claws as the wild girl furiously pushed her away.

   Disaster and doom were as large as life and all around as the distorted and speeding Lyndsey screamed accusations at the shocked face of the innocent reeling girl. As she fired questions also at the shaken and furious Tom, she filled the room with venom and wild abuse. Screams, shrieks, incoherrence...

   And so suddenly Tom snapped; he grabbed her and lifting her clean off her feet, he took her outside. Out of the room, out of the squat and out of the building. And throwing her shaking, hysterical and unwilling body down, he dropped her out of his life.

   Fierce nasty words, his mouth up close to her face. He finished his short burst, then pushed her back forcefully into the wall. Neither of them were particularly clear-headed or receptive to outside stimuli; but as the bricks hit her shoulders, they sent wracks of pain that crumpled her legs and sent her sprawling. She watched his disinterested shaking body hurry back indoors as she tried, but failed, to get up.
 
   Then the moment hit her.

   She could suddenly feel the wind and the light spray of the drizzly night rain as she lay outside the tenement cutting her tights and legs on the broken glass under her. She was dizzy and suddenly so weak; mercilessly her head was now clearing and she was touching down.

   No more speeding, no more racing thoughts, and no more being blind to what was happening around her. The noises she could hear rather than feel, the surroundings she was existing in rather than floating above. And now she knew exactly where she was and why she was here; the enormity of the last few moments hit her and she felt physically winded.

   She could hear faintly his distant echoing footfall as he left her lying there, and the distant rebound of the door, then no more. A wave of silence – nothing whatsoever in the air. Then it did hit her – REALLY hit her. Harder and more painful than any emotion she had ever before felt. Waves upon waves of misery. No other thoughts now, waves and waves of self-pity, self-hatred.

   And loss, loss, loss. Just misery; misery and him. Him.

   What had she done?

   What had she fucking done?

   She pulled back into the alleyway to shelter from the rain. Her bleeding leg she didn’t heed, she just mudded and blooded her tear-strewn and makeup-run face with her caked hands as she pounded with self-loathing at herself. The rain had matted and stranded her hair and was helping to add to the rivers of tears that were now pouring from her eyes.

   She fell back and leant her shivering and uninviting body back against the crumbling wall and the door-frame; the rain getting stronger now, soaked through and ran through her skirt and tights in contact with the floor. Her head was resting on her knees, her arms were thrust up over herself protectively, but she was thankfully untroubled by the few passers-by who took her for a wasted junkie.

   And then mercy returned. The copious amounts of drink that she had ingested kicked in and closed her eyes, and for now she was unconscious to it all.