The Jacaranda House, page 28
‘I know I said I don’t really go to church these days,’ David said. ‘Well, not often. But, you know, sometimes if you pray it can help.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
‘You weren’t the only one,’ David said.
‘The only one what?’ Polly asked as she collected her bits and pieces from the booth.
‘Pinching the drugs.’
Polly froze. ‘Who else was?’
‘That boy Terry.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I saw him. Well, I think I did.’
Polly came out of the booth. ‘Did you see him actually take them? Out of the drawer under the counter? With a key?’
‘I don’t know. I saw him a few times. It was after you’d gone at the end of the night. I was over by the door to the bar waiting for people to leave – you know how there’s always a handful who won’t hurry up and go home? And he was in the booth and I asked him what he was doing and he said Adler told him to come and look for something, so I left him to it. I don’t know if he had a key but that first time he was having a pretty good hunt around. After that he was more or less just in and out.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t think to, really. And he said he was doing something for Adler so, you know. I didn’t think it mattered.’
‘I hid the key to the drugs drawer underneath the seat of my stool,’ Polly said. ‘He probably found it.’
‘That wasn’t very clever,’ David said. ‘No offence. Why didn’t you put it on your key-ring and take it home?’
‘What if I couldn’t come to work? Or I lost my keys?’
‘Is there only one key?’ David asked.
Polly felt her cheeks burning yet again. God, she was daft sometimes. Adler could have opened the drawer with his key if hers hadn’t been available. ‘Yes.’
She ducked back into the booth and tilted the stool: the key was still there, pushed into the vinyl rim underneath the seat. As a petty act of revenge, she plucked it out and popped it into her bra. Now Adler would have to use his key.
Leaving the booth for the last time, she slung her handbag over her shoulder.
David appeared deep in thought, but then he often looked like that. ‘How will you pay the money back?’ he asked.
‘Well, at this point I can’t. I’m broke. I wouldn’t have pinched the heroin if I wasn’t.’
‘Can you sell anything? Got friends you can borrow off?’
‘Not really.’
‘I could give you a bit, but I send most of my money home to family.’
Polly was genuinely touched. Again. ‘That’s really kind, Dave, but honestly, I couldn’t. Thank you very much, though.’ There wasn’t much else to say now. She would miss Dave. She really liked him. He was solid, and kind and sort of . . . steadfast. And very cute. Finally she said, ‘Well, I’m off. It was really nice working with you.’
‘It was nice working with you, too, Polly. I’m sorry I won’t see you again.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘Will I?’
Polly pulled her notebook out of her bag, scribbled her address on a page and tore it out. ‘Come round if you want. I can’t guarantee what state I’ll be in, but you’ll be welcome. Come and meet my daughter. And just so you know, my flatmates work at Les Girls.’
Grinning, David pocketed the note.
Chapter Fifteen
Polly had gone out somewhere and Rhoda and Star were going through her room looking for drugs, but weren’t finding anything.
‘I think the cunning cow’s taken everything with her,’ Star said.
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Rhoda agreed. ‘She isn’t going to give everything up just because Evie told her to.’
Gina appeared in the doorway. ‘Are you tossing Mum’s room?’
Star laughed.
‘No, we are not tossing it,’ Rhoda said. ‘We’re just having a look.’
‘She’s taken her medicine with her.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I was sitting on her bed when she put it all in her bag.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Rhoda said, disgusted.
What the point had been of sending Gina downstairs the other day she didn’t know. She’d been part of the discussion about her mother’s drug use beforehand, and had sat around since, listening to Polly bullshit on about how she really had to give up now it had all gone wrong and she’d lost her job and owed money and all the rest of it, and now here she was making sure no one would take her drugs off her, and all in front of Gina! Did she not care what her daughter thought of her?
But the thing was, it didn’t seem to matter what Polly did, Gina carried on loving her as much as she ever had. Sometimes she made excuses for her but even when she didn’t her affection and loyalty never seemed to waver. Her mother was flawed and Gina didn’t care. And Polly – poor, unsound, bad-tempered, drug-addicted Polly – tried to love Gina back as best she could. Rhoda didn’t think it was good enough, that a child deserved stability and dependable behaviour from a parent, and a safe environment, but, to be honest, how many kids consistently got that anyway? Gina got a fair bit of it from three or four people and she supposed that, for now, that would have to do.
‘I don’t think she wants you to take it away from her,’ Gina said.
‘I think you’re right there, treacle,’ Star agreed.
Gina said, ‘She says you’re a pair of interfering old tarts. I don’t think that, though.’
Rhoda sighed. ‘I’m sure she does think we’re interfering, love. But we’re just trying to help her.’
‘I know that,’ Gina said. ‘Why don’t we get a magic potion from the Witch of Kings Cross and sneak it into her brandy or her tea? That might help.’
Startled, Star looked at Rhoda. Rhoda said, ‘Where did you hear about her?’
‘School.’
‘God, your bloody school,’ Star said. ‘Don’t they teach you proper things like reading and writing?’
‘Yes,’ Gina said. ‘Who’s the Witch of Kings Cross? Is she real?’
Rhoda rubbed her jaw as she thought for a minute. Was this really a suitable subject for an almost-twelve-year-old?
‘She’s real all right,’ Star said. ‘Her name’s Rosaleen Norton and yes, she is a witch. I think she originally came from New Zealand but don’t quote me on that, and she’s lived in the Cross for years and runs a coven and does this weird bloody art and sells spells and potions and shit.’
‘What’s a coven?’ Gina asked.
‘It’s a group of people who practise, er . . .’ Star looked at Rhoda again.
‘A particular religion,’ Rhoda finished.
Gina said, ‘What religion? I used to go to the Church of England when I lived with Nannie. The same as that?’
‘Not quite,’ Rhoda said.
‘So what, then? Some of the Island people back home were Mentholists. Like them?’
‘Methodists,’ Rhoda corrected. ‘No, not like them.’
‘Well, what then?’ Gina was starting to lose her temper.
Rhoda most certainly was not going to say Satanists, even though the newspapers occasionally published lurid accounts of Rosaleen Norton’s ‘satanic’ activities. ‘I think they might be something like paganists. That means they worship nature. I’m pretty sure she’s harmless, just a bit different.’
‘But she is a witch?’ Gina said.
‘Apparently.’
‘So can we go and see her and get a potion?’
Rhoda said gently, ‘Sweetie, do you really think a magic potion will work?’
‘Nannie puts curses and things on people all the time. She reckons they work.’
‘Your nan sounds like a right bobby-dazzler,’ Star said.
Gina said, ‘Can we at least try? Please?’
Rhoda hesitated. She’d heard Rosaleen Norton was quite odd. But then plenty of people thought she and Star were odd. ‘I suppose it can’t do any harm.’
‘Can I tell Mum?’
‘Best not,’ Star said quickly.
‘Why not?’ Gina asked.
Because your mother probably won’t take kindly to us consulting a witch about her drug addiction behind her back, then tipping God only knows what into her tea in an effort to hocus-pocus her into sobriety, that’s why. ‘Let’s just surprise her if it works, shall we?’ Rhoda said.
‘Can we go now?’ Gina said.
‘Now?’ Rhoda looked at Star.
‘Well, Mum’s not here. We can just say we’ve been to the shops.’
‘I don’t know where she lives,’ Rhoda said.
Star said, ‘I do, sort of. Brougham Street. Don’t know the number, though. I might know someone who does.’
Rhoda couldn’t think of a good reason not to go, except that it probably wasn’t a sensible idea in general. Gina seemed so sure it would help she didn’t want to disappoint her, though, so she said yes.
‘You can get a spell for your boobs while we’re there, Rho,’ Star said.
‘My boobs?’
‘Well, weren’t you moaning the other day about the hormone therapy not working?’
‘Don’t be a bitch. It is working. Sort of. I was just saying I wish it would work faster. God, you’re mean.’
Brougham Street was within walking distance of Bayswater Road, but it was a long, long street running from William Street down to the harbour, and no one fancied traipsing all the way down one side and up the other looking for Rosaleen Norton’s house. So Star went downstairs, got on the phone and rang a few people and came back with a street number. It actually was going to be too far to walk so they rang a taxi.
The driver dropped them off outside a house whose front door featured a sign declaring, Welcome to the house of ghosts, goblins, werewolves, vampires, witches, wizards and poltergeists.
‘I think this is probably it,’ Star said.
Rhoda knocked and in a minute a woman opened the door. She looked to be somewhere in her forties and had black hair with a pronounced widow’s peak and extremely high, arched eyebrows, dark eyes, and a wide mouth accentuated with bright red lipstick. She really was quite strange-looking, and very thin. Rhoda thought she could do with a good feed of pies.
‘Can I help you?’ she said.
Rhoda nearly squawked with shock: the woman had the worst teeth she’d ever seen. Nearly every second one was missing top and bottom, leaving great, gaping holes, and her remaining top front teeth stuck out bizarrely. She must have had the most terrible overbite. But her voice was really quite posh.
Recovering, she asked, ‘Um, are you Rosaleen Norton?’
‘I’m Roie Norton, yes.’
Rhoda started to explain why they were there, but Gina butted in so Rhoda let her get on with it. This was her mission after all.
‘We’d like to buy a magic potion,’ Gina said.
‘Is that so? And what sort of potion are you after?’
‘Well, it’s for my mum. She’s a heroin addict.’
Rhoda winced. So much for shielding Gina from the truth.
‘I really want her to get better,’ Gina went on, ‘and I thought you might have a magic potion that could fix her, or even a spell, ’cos you’re the Witch of Kings Cross.’
A flicker of compassion crossed the witch’s face. ‘You’d better come in then.’
Rhoda thought, And you’d better not sell Gina a whole lot of hope and some stupid crap in a bottle that isn’t going to work because you’ll break her heart. She suddenly felt extremely angry at Polly for putting Gina in this position.
As they went inside, Star elbowed her. ‘Did you see her teeth? Bloody hell!’
‘Yes. Shut up, she’ll hear you.’
The hallway of the house was dark and gloomy, and decorated with some very odd paintings, ornate mirrors and several sinister-looking horned masks. They followed the witch into a lounge area even more crammed with bizarre bits and pieces. Bowls and candlesticks cluttered end tables, large squashy cushions were piled on the floor, more weird paintings, masks, diagrams, mirrors, and pennants hung on the walls, and the place reeked of incense. Most alarming, however, was a huge pentagram painted on the bare wooden floor.
‘Fuck me,’ Star said under her breath.
Looking amused, the witch said, ‘Have a seat.’
Gina was staring at an enormous painting on the wall above a couch. ‘Is that that man’s willy?’
Rhoda followed her gaze. The painting depicted a heavily muscled male figure with an elongated, grinning, goatish head sprouting a massive pair of curved horns. The figure was naked, and a fat, heavy cock hung down over a pair of balls. Behind the figure, nightmarish faces swirled in myriad bright colours, and rays of light beamed from the goat-figure’s eyes. It was actually beautifully executed, but Rhoda wasn’t sure she’d want it on her bedroom wall.
‘Er, yes, love,’ she said. ‘It is his willy.’
The more she looked around at the paintings in the room, she more she saw in them: tits, fannies, bums, cocks, inverted crosses, pentagrams, devils, bats, horns, crystal balls, wands, people having orgies . . . bloody hell, literally.
‘Did you paint all these?’ she asked the witch.
‘I did. They’re an expression of my spirituality,’ she said.
‘Oh. Right. Bonzer.’
The witch laughed. ‘You have your way of presenting yourself to the material world, I have mine.’
‘This potion?’ Star said, who hadn’t sat down and looked to Rhoda as though she’d rather be anywhere else but in Rosaleen Norton’s lounge.
The witch turned to Gina. ‘The thing is, you can’t always tailor a magic spell or potion to a specific dilemma. That’s not how things work in the realm of the Divine. I can give you something that will make your mother feel better in general, more in harmony with the universe and therefore calmer and more able to cope, but she’ll have to do the work of recovery herself.’
Gina looked disappointed. ‘I don’t think Mum’ll give a stuff about being in harmony with the universe.’
‘Well, I’ll give you something to try anyway. How old is your mother?’
‘Thirty-one.’
‘Star sign?’
Gina turned to Rhoda.
‘Ah, end of May, so Gemini.’
‘All right, I won’t be long,’ the witch said, and disappeared out into the hallway.
‘Man, is she weird,’ Star said.
‘Look!’ Gina said as a black and white cat appeared from behind the couch. ‘And there’s another one!’ she exclaimed, pointing at one perched on a windowsill half hidden behind a curtain.
‘There’s one under that table, too,’ Star said. ‘Christ, they’re everywhere. Don’t touch them! They might be people she’s put spells on.’
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Rhoda said.
Gina bent to pat the cat from behind the couch. It rubbed happily against her leg, leaving fur on her jeans.
‘What are your cats called?’ she asked when the witch returned.
‘The black and white one is Hecate, the one on the windowsill is Aradia, and that’s Kevin under the table. He’s the neighbour’s cat. Here you go,’ she said, handing Gina a small cloth bag. ‘It’s not a potion, it’s a charm. Put it under your mother’s pillow. It should start to work in a few days.’
Rhoda felt about as disappointed as Gina looked, though she didn’t know why as she’d no idea what she’d expected. She opened her purse. ‘How much?’
‘Three pounds fifty.’
Rhoda paid. ‘Well, thanks. Let’s hope it works.’
Outside on the footpath Gina opened the little bag. ‘Doesn’t look very magic to me.’
‘What’s in it?’ Star asked.
‘A pebble, a piece of red string, a bit of paper, some leaves. And it smells funny.’
‘What a swizz,’ Star said. ‘I think I’ll go into business. Star E. Knight’s Magic Charms, AKA bits of crap in a bag.’
‘We don’t know, she might have charged it with some sort of special power,’ Rhoda said, though she wasn’t sure she believed that. ‘And you thought she was the real deal when you were in there. You were shitting yourself.’
‘I was not.’
‘You were.’
‘I liked the paintings,’ Gina said.
‘They were a bit bloody rude,’ Star said. ‘All those knobs and minges. What a weird bloody sheila.’
Gina said, ‘What’s a minge?’
Rhoda sighed. They’d probably crossed several lines with Gina today, and here came one more. ‘It’s a slang word for a lady’s private parts.’
‘Is it? Minge.’ Gina tried it out again. ‘Miiinge.’
‘That’ll do.’
‘Let’s go home,’ Gina said. ‘Hopefully Mum’s not back yet. I want to sneak this under her pillow.’
Star asked, ‘You don’t think she’ll appreciate it? It’s just a little bag.’
Gina thought about it. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’
‘No,’ Star said after a moment.
They walked down Brougham Street until a taxi went past, which they hailed, and arrived home fifteen minutes later. Polly was back.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Star asked.
‘Out.’
‘Well, we knew that,’ Rhoda said.
Polly opened her handbag and tipped it upside down on the table. A pile of things fell out – make-up, tissues, sunglasses, gum, keys, a small notebook, a sanitary pad, hairclips, etc – and a pile of money. ‘I’ve been up the fountain to sell some of my drugs. I got just over two hundred quid.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Star said.
She looked at Rhoda, and Rhoda could see she felt as uncomfortable and shamefaced as she did herself. ‘Oh. Well. I’m really proud of you, Pol. Good on you.’ She hoped she didn’t sound patronising but she suspected she did.
‘You’ve been in my room again, haven’t you?’ Polly said.
‘Um, yes.’
‘Did you think I’d taken my stash so you couldn’t find it?’
‘That was me, Mum,’ Gina said. ‘I thought that. And it was me that told them you’d taken it with you.’
Polly beckoned to her, and when Gina approached, she put her arm around her. ‘I haven’t got rid of everything, love. I can’t do it all at once. Baby steps to start with. It’s the best I can do, OK?’
